#everyone elses' height is from back when they were not broken. :|

[mixingandmelting]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with a s/o who’s like the sweetest thing ever and he just sees them get mad, mama bear mode at a super powered hero who could end s/o if they wanted too. Like this super powered hero abused their powers and hurt someone on purpose cuz they’re thought it was funny or like violated their mental privacy with psychic abilities and messed with their head just cuz they are slightly annoyed at them over something mildly inconvenient and basic, (), (a fellow ally hero) and for some reason didn’t see a problem with it and they look confused like they didn’t see the problem as to why they’re being scolded like a bad child and apologise to s/o to appease this s/o cuz they’re friends, and s/o like, “are you kidding me? It’s not me that you need to apologise too and not do that again!”? Maybe the boys have seen slight glimpses into their s/o having some fire in them sent the boys way in the form of some sass when the boys are wrong about something and be stubborn about it?

Dick: 

Does he laugh or cry?  Donna’s covering her mouth with both hands while tapping him every other second to ask if the team should step in. Wally is making him concerned about the potential chance of him dying from hypoxia because he can’t stop laughing. Maybe he should’ve been the one to give the whole lecture why abusing powers for personal reasons is a big no-no. And he was going to do it too, already having the infamous Batman-glare from not being happy, at all, for witnessing the misuse of power for a petty reason. But so far, in his opinion, you’re doing a pretty good job at getting the message across. 

“-Oh, so you think you’re the next Superman or Green Lantern, huh? All big and tough when you resort to using your powers for being called jumbo?” 

See? Plus he’s pretty sure no one, including himself, wants to interfere when you’re like this. You left the Titans a strong impression when you, the warmest and kindest person he has known, showed this side of you before Dick and Gar were about to go at it with each other during a mission that was going wrong. Not only had you asked him if he was trying to prove he’s babygirl  by snapping at his fellow teammate over speakers of his phone, you had gone after everyone else the second your sharp hearing caught the sound of snickering. It was quite a humbling experience to say the least. They managed to actually get themselves back together and  improve their teamwork, starting with everyone comforting each other as soon as you hung up (too bad it didn’t help his case. He still remembers standing in front of the door for over five minutes, hesitant to enter his own home on the day he came back). 

“Are you kidding me? It’s not me you should be apologizing to. Go apologize to the right person and don’t do it again!” 

Oh, no. Well, there’s nothing he can do about it now. He gives the other his condolences, understanding what they must be going through. Doesn’t make the scene any less ridiculous though, the vigilante ten times your size and more powerful, slightly bending forward with a sad puppy look while you’re waving your arms. He plops himself on a broken part of a building and sits back to watch the other party turn around and drag their feet towards the victim while you walk right behind them like a disappointed mother. 

Jason:

He’s turned around, his hand is on the intercom, the other wrapped around his waist to sell the image he’s in the process of tying the loose ends of the finished mission. But it’s getting harder by the second to not burst from the conversation you’re having with the other vigilante. 

“So what you’re telling me is that using your powers to get back at someone because you were annoyed with them is perfectly acceptable and not immature, childish, or stupid. And you’re sure you’re not being immature, childish, AND stupid.”

He covers his snort with a cough. Listen. You’re already considered tiny when with him. Muscles, strength, give or take height. Your heart is the one exception, wider than the sea and accepting to most including himself. To the vigilante? You’re an ant. But here you are, lecturing them to the brink of their ears falling off while they look like a child getting scolded. 

He gets it. Had he been in the hot-seat, he probably would look the same. Out of good faith once, he took Duke  on a mission that involved Black Mask, To give the teen the taste of working as a solo vigilante even though he was far from completing vigilante training. By the time Bruce and the rest of the gang had arrived, his head hung low, standing as if he was the military. You, on the other hand, were forty-one minutes in and counting on your lecture, the poor teen behind you at a loss on whether he should stop you or not. Trust no one in the family to keep silent when people he doesn’t know come up to him at gatherings to ask if the story of him getting served by you is true. He’s still bitter, especially with everyone knowing he can’t do a single thing. Not when it’s tied to gentle and loving you. So when someone who’s close to you and/or him goes through the same misery, it brings him joy from gaining a new comrade, a sympathetic companion. 

“You better get going and apologize right this instance or so help me I will-” 

“That’s my babe.” Jason murmurs, faking a tear from how moved he is under his helmet. Proud that his one love is able to verbally go face-to-face with someone that can squash you if they wanted to. Until it registers in his mind that you’re silent. Turning around, he flinches and awkwardly waves a hand at your glaring form. Well damn. When things were getting good too. 

Tim:

He doesn’t even bat an eyelash to what’s unfolding behind him, going over the mission like normal despite all the glances the JLA gives over his and the rest of Young Justice’s shoulder. 

“Based on how the sediments that were being transported in the crates, we were able to rule out-”

“Sorry to interrupt Robin, but what’s going on behind you four?”

It’s a record-breaking moment. Their responses have never been as in-sync or instantaneous until then.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not an issue.”

“I don’t see a problem.”

“There’s a problem?” 

The JLA members force themselves to ignore it for the time being from the expression all four of them give. Good. The less questions asked, the better for the team. It was the other day Cass had to face you from the stunt she pulled during said mission they’re going over right now. He knows for a fact that Conner and Bart remember all the times you remind all three males the fire that resides in the soft and sweet you when not taken seriously. When it’s him,Tim can never manage to make eye-contact with you for a few days. Bart hides behind the nearest and largest object the second you’re within a ten-mile radius of him. Conner? He has it the worst. Often left in skin and bones, he used to lie on the floor of his bedroom and contemplate the meaning of life every time someone enters and tries to talk to him. He’s gotten better, having progressed to where he seems to freeze on spot if ignoring the miniscule sniffle he makes. 

You do manage to amaze Tim at the same time, proving to him how  “if there’s a will, there’s a way” is a scientifically proven phrase from the way you stay perfectly fine despite going on for five minutes straight without breathing. 

He does sympathize for the vigilante that can probably kill you on the spot had you not been their friend. From the background of his screen, he can see you point at a certain location before the other dejectedly floats towards that direction. Just in time too. He was running out of ideas on how to stop the league from further finding out Young Justice can’t function without you momming them. 

Duke:

He sends a prayer, wishing the victim to rest in peace. He’s seen you before, experienced first-handedly how you are when you’re in mother-hen mode. And he can say, with complete confidence, the person on the receiving end is a goner. 

Duke’s first time was back during the We Are Robin movement. Looking back, he has to admit younger him was an idiot to think he could dismantle a bomb on his own with no experience, nonetheless one set by Penguin’s men. But him in the past was in his emo-teen phase. Meaning, he didn’t acknowledge or consider all the red flags blaring at his face from how dangerous it was going to be, his mission on proving how useless the adults were to keeping a city safe taking priority. Needless to say, he was a mess when he got back to the base, barely managing to escape with his life intact. 

He thought he knew what was coming when everyone pats his shoulder as they walk out and leave him with you in their meeting room. You didn’t scream. You didn’t yell. The worst part?  He couldn’t defend himself. There was no room for any counter arguments because you knew he knew everything you were saying was right (and because he had a massive crush on but that’s besides the point). Charred front and back, he was instantly put in place and shedding out of his phase there and then. Hence, that moment being the last encounter with that side of you from all the efforts he had put in to do anything to avoid having those horrid times he experienced that day repeat itself again.

“What part of you makes you think it’s me you need to apologize to? On top of messing with a person’s mind because you didn’t like their attitude toward you? Are you sure you’re trying to help save the city? Or are you just- ” 

He shakes his head. He watches the remaining fight in their eyes disappearing, face becoming impossibly paler and ashen when you proceed to shred the remaining dignity in them. On one part, it almost, almost, makes him want to step in and save the other from further looking as if they wanted to dig a hole and bury themselves in it. On another, he’s glad he’s not the one facing your wrath. He can do another day of not going through it, thank you very much. 

Damian: 

He’s having the time of his life. Not as much as he usually does when he ruins a criminal’s perfect night, but still, nonetheless enjoyable. Despite the disapproving eyes Jon shoots at him, his grin grows wider at each strike you give to the vigilante. 

It satisfies him deep in his heart, the image of you destroying their soul piece by piece. Them tasting the hell he constantly goes through.

He suspected you had a fire in your heart since he first met you. How else would it explain your warmth and care you showered others in, including himself? Most cases, he has to maneuver himself to keep most of that warmth to himself. When he doesn’t, that’s when he gets burnt. 

Somehow you always manage to catch him, finding out from someone, perhaps from Drake, Brown, or Todd, about all the reckless actions he did during the mission he went on. Remember the Amazo suit mission he had with Super Boy? You were waiting at his and Super Boy’s hide out the day after it was over. The incident at Lazarus Island? He never wanted to die so much as he did when he had to endure your motherly wrath in front of Suren and Maya. Twice, in fact, after he chased the two that snickered at him during the whole session with his katana.

“Mr. Damian Thomas Wayne-“ is not where you stop. Your grip on his ear is surprisingly strong, where he can’t get you to let go no matter how much he struggles from pure resolve to have him stay where he is. His family had once laughed when he told them how terrifying this skill was, only you in possession of it to his knowledge. Now they, too, fear it having experienced it when they tried to thwart his very much valid and warranted concerns once in front of you. 

“You need to apologize to them, not me! And-Hold on! What do you think you’re doing? Don’t use psychosis! Actually say sorry to them!” 

There’s distraught written all over the vigilante’s face. They aren’t given the choice to choose seeing you don’t budge, leading them to childishly stomp their way towards their fellow teammate, grumbling all the way. They could’ve not listened to you and retaliated back if they really wanted to. Unfortunately, for him, it seems that they want to be in your good grace. Something along the lines of being your friend. Too bad, he disapproves. They’ve been too chummy with you the past few days for his liking and need to be taught the bare requirements to be close to you.

[whinelo]

OP! Reader x X, reader got isekaied into TBHX and is not affected by the trust system, and is being a cryptid and doing their own thing there, confusing and piquing X’s interest, not understanding why she’s so powerful and not causing so much chaos. Just an idea that was in my mind :3

A/N : OP reader is just a silly goober why is she getting hunted down by the commission free her asap she’s just whimsy. X poking at a bear ( reader ) is so funny hehe, just imagine meeting someone far more powerful than you and your first reaction is to tease them- smh. Reader’s height is below 190 cm so.. sorry to my tall readers out there :,) I got carried away with the word count too..

CHARACTERS | X ( Bai Xizhuang ), Reader ( You )

SYNOPSIS | 'The Second Coming of Zero' They dubbed your existence, you don't actually do anything bad- the public is just making ooc headcanons of you lol.

INCLUDES | Slight religious reference, X is a cryptid, the Hero Commission is a warning too, Cryptid X likes to tease friendly eldritch Cryptid Reader, ( have you ever thought of punting this man to another galaxy? ), cryptid to cryptid communication.

[ Name ]

X

Queen

[ RELOADING ]

X

Queen

Dragonboy

It was an ‘error’ the commission said, just a fault within the rankings— ‘[ Name ] does not exist, this person does not exist’ The commission said. But the public cried- why would that suddenly happen? They asked, no answer. Who is this [ Name ]? A person who managed to stay at pinnacle until their name was forcefully removed. Why would the rankings suddenly display such a specific name? Why not ‘error’, or maybe even a line of broken jumbled code?

The leader board has remained so reliable over the years, why break now?

So many questions, so little answers— a mystery shrouded upon more mysteries, a ‘person’ of unknown origins, a being with immense power.

Reliable journalism companies such as ‘Focus’ tried to keep to under wraps, better yet- Tried to bury the outcry in some cold ditch, but when news like this is fresh and piping hot- y’know how society gets. Panicky, fidgety, curious— yet fearful of the unknown. It was like a domino effect, the moment a social media post gets seen by enough people- the faster the news spread, the harder it is to contain.

The harder it is to ignore.

The commission had a meeting, ‘The Second coming of Zero’— They feared- and while common sense was lacking in that very meeting room, a thought was expressed- “ If they really are such a threat- why haven’t they done anything yet? “ Congratulations, someone managed to figure out that you weren’t some malicious entity hoping to destroy the globe. You watched beyond the normal eyes, you knew what most didn’t.

Back at home, this universe was just fiction- a story you found comfort in.

Now it’s reality, you live here now—- For who knows how long, and watching as how people scurried to find hints and tidbits of your identity- scouring the globe, trying to grasp at invisible threads.. It was fascinating, diving into the depths of the nigh-infinite internet, investigating people that had a name similar to your own- Searching within every hospital, every medical center— Just to find out who [ Name ] is.

Bare their hands were.

.. They were looking for a drop of clean water within the dirty ocean, it was impossible.

You didn’t belong here, you were brought here.

Hence you had no legal identity, no recorded biology, nothing.

You were as unknown as could be, known by name- and nothing else, everyone knew you- no one knew you.

And while you said you weren’t malicious, you weren’t wholly good either— The story that partakes in this world is not yours to direct, not yours to alter— Never yours to change in the first place. Because you were a viewer, you know this world from the eyes of a viewer- a watcher, an observer.

Which made sense, if this world truly wanted you as its own, you would’ve re-spawned as a child.

Every day— You spent days theorizing, analyzing- following bread crumbs just to understand this world; How much did this world rely on the Belief System? Is the Hero Commission the ruling power of this world? Just how different was the body composition of the people here? Does religion exist?

If you were born here maybe you would’ve known. But you were transported, body- soul, and mind.

You were basically an entirely different species of human with no blood relation to anyone here, hell— you weren’t even sure if your biological similarities with these people were as similar as your physical makeup- or was it? People here had hair colors that were impossible to obtain in your home world without the means of hair dye, eye colors so uniquely bizarre— And with the Belief System? People had abilities that weren’t even possible at home.

And yet this world rewarded you just for existing here,

Vague memories from back home- you remember that you grinded for Belief Points within the Bxlibxli Website— And while you normally got it from.. Usual means- What moved you to do something.. treacherous, was a split second decision to hack into the code of the website, to alter the points you got— have ( and soon, will have ), and you did.

Zeroes upon zeroes added unto the right side of your original digit— Surpassing millions, billions— Even going beyond with the addition of exponents; sure, rigging the vote for your favorite character’s favor and ensured they held the ‘X’ title for the third season of To Be Hero X— was wrong — but you didn’t care, the definition of favoritism had your name on it and you didn’t care.

It was a fuck it all decision, and the very second to the last decision you’d ever make in your life.

So when you reloaded the site once more and noticed that— it worked, you had the points you definitely didn’t work hard for- You coded another program, one that would automatically give the votes to your favorite— Without you being there physically, maybe the team behind the voting system would remove the absurd amount of votes and possibly your account too, but it didn’t matter- you weren’t going to see it anyway.

Unfortunately fate had it out for you and now you were here— Inside the universe of your comfort show, most people would’ve been ecstatic— You originally were, until you remembered — The commission, the heroes, the cults, the everything — Oh you were cooked.

Until you looked at the hologram that flashed on your wrist—

It was the same.. The same number of points you had given yourself.

And when the world caught wind of it,

… How could you guarantee your own safety without getting caught by the commission— What if you get changed by the system— What if?

Finding about your own abilities was.. Unique to say the least…

—

There was a few hours that the Belief System stopped working.

No hologram on your wrist, no powers— As if it never existed in the first place,

But then it came back.

At first everyone shrugged it off as a ‘them’ situation, but the realization soon dawned upon them that it was a collective experience— No one knew what exactly happened, but they knew exactly what was lost.

The Commission knew exactly who it was, it was Mystery- The name they gave [ Name ], was it a ploy to make her sound more inhuman? Maybe it was. The Commission finally figured out Mystery’s ability— Power over the Belief System as a whole, they realized that this ‘being’ wasn’t the second Zero— They were worse, more powerful— far beyond the system’s means, far beyond comprehensible power.

But their fear for the apocalypse was irrational.

X was well aware that this event was caused by a person, so as the media dubbed ‘Mystery’— ( Now, the bigger question is why they dubbed this person ‘Mystery’ and not ‘random nobody’ like they did with him— ) Someone that was able to take the world by a storm just by existing— And he was curious, how were you able to obtain such an absurd power just to be able to do such?

While it was hilarious to think that you possibly got the trust of every extraterrestrial being in the universe ( if there were any ), or the trust of every single microorganism to exist— It was just a theory, nothing solid to create an actual reason.

In this game of chess he wondered- Who would you be? What purpose, what role will you serve in this twisted manipulation of fate?

Being able to end the system.. He doubted that would be your only trick in the book, he was curious— painfully so, sadly he had a job to work— and as a corporate wage-slave, he knew that gathering information on you would come at a later time ( preferably one where he’s free from the shackles of his cover-up corporate job. ) So making use of his time, he’d strategize in the meanwhile.

Was he potentially playing with fire just by coming into contact with you? Potentially, but the very nature of your existence confused him— Were you the exception to the madness of ultimate power?

And if so, then is the commissions fear irrational?

“ Guys! “ Looking up from his laptop screen, in the middle of his office his boss stood out- No. No not again. Please don’t say it.

His boss clasped his hands together, stern as ever- as his wrinkled face looked at them all. “ Considering we’re behind on schedule and we have a deadline to meet, we’ll be working overtime until eleven p.m alright? “ Screw you. Bai Xizhuang thought bitterly, and judging by the same dejected look his co-workers shared— This was going to be another long day of hard work.

‘Maybe I should quit to do Hero work full-time.’ Though he’d never act upon such an enticing thought, Bai Xizhuang had to restrain himself from actually doing it so that he’d pass off as a normal citizen once more.

—

..Now what does he have here?

Considering the nature of the Belief System, and the sheer amount of mass hysteria you’ve garnered— X thought that you’re appearance would be more.. ‘Eldritch’, to be completely honest with himself he expected to be faced with a being who’s form is an incomprehensible amalgamation of tethered limbs, and congregations of stars and cosmos..

Instead, X saw a completely ‘normal’ human being ( uncanny albeit, ) wandering across the empty city streets- gasping and wide-eyed at the environment, sometimes stopping by to look through the windows of a closed shop. This wasn’t what he expected at all, then again what did X expect in the first place?

A being capable of bringing the world to it’s knees.. Acting so abnormally innocent and docile.

Suddenly your gaze quickly turned to the left- His left. “ I know you’re there.. X. “ You spoke- apprehensive, uneasy by his secondary presence— X cocked his head to side before deciding that indeed, there really was no use to hiding anymore when you’ve been caught, red-handed.

With a calm tone, he asked “ Did you now? “ Stepping out of the shadows he stepped closer to you— Wow, you’re much shorter than he expected. You looked up at him, brows furrowed as you tried to discern his own reason for coming to you— Say could he ask if you could be his arm rest—?

Raising your arms, “ .. I’m not here to cause havoc- I swear, “ You explained, averting your gaze- The swift air blew against the both of you in that dimly lit street- the sound of distant ads acting as background music- Feeling the need for a drink, X snapped his fingers a can of Iced Cola appeared from thin air- a muffled sound resounded as he caught it within the palm of his hand.

Giving a sly grin, he then teased “ Now, aren’t you excited? Don’t go answering questions- I, haven’t asked yet. “ He shrugged, opening the can as he brought it towards his lips- Sipping the fruity carbonated liquid, now which can is this- the 22nd can.. or the 23rd? Inserting his hand into his pocket.

Your brow then raised,“ So.. you were going to ask that? “ you ask in utter monotony, giving him a deadpan look as you watched him take a sip from his soda.

“ Maybe, “ Deciding to remain vague, ( on purpose ) he then removed the can from his lips- Gulping down the liquid.

“ What are you doing alone in this cold night, anyway? “ X followed up, gaze towards the can in his hands- feeling the coldness of the droplets contrasted greatly to the warmth within his palms.

“ Kinda' obvious that I’m just wandering around.. “

X hummed, “ Mhm.. “

“I have a question, “ You piped up, “ Shoot it, “ X responded, curious.

Taking a breath, you looked at him determined— “ Why do you wear shades at night? “

“ ..How about we don’t talk about that? “ X shot down.

[ivybucky]

lightning in a bottle - logan howlett x reader

mutant!reader nearly harms the team in a moment of panic and feels unable to deal with the aftermath, but logan is there to bring you back in more ways than one

a/n: i have so many ideas besties... currently have a list of 5 fic ideas and this is the first one I was able to flush out. here's some angst with happy ending for ya (no smut)

content: angst with happy ending, lots of electricity(literally), mentions of torture and screaming, mentions of mutant experimentation, implications of shitty birth family, confession of feelings, reader crying, sad reader, angry/sad logan

words: 2329

~~~~~

All you could think about was the lightning. 

You remember walking into the room, where the footage of your torture was displaying blatantly across the TV news cycle, the team sitting there and watching with rapt attention. “Mutant Experimentation Footage Leaked” scrolled across the screen. You remember the static tingling in your fingertips as you recognized what you were watching. Your own cries echoed from the speakers as footage of Stryker’s experimentation on you from a month prior when you had been captured is played to the nation. 

“Turn it off,” you had said quietly, pleadingly. The team’s gaze snaps to your silhouette in the door frame. Their eyes held sorrow, and something else that you did not want to see. 

“Y/N-” Storm had started to speak, but you wouldn’t have it. 

“Turn it off, now,” you’d said, clenched fists at your side as the panic began to swell, small flares of electricity flaring around your knuckles. Memories of the torture, the agony, the hatred came rushing back all at one and your eyes couldn’t leave the screen as it continuously replayed it. 

As the feeling heightening, electricity cracked in the air. Your eyes lit up, a bright purple gleam taking over. There was too much silence in the room, the sounds of your screams playing in a loop like a broken record as the news team played the footage over and over. Finally, someone broke it. “Y/N,” Logan had spoken up, an odd, unfamiliar tone in his voice. Good god, was that pity?

“What?” You had snapped, finally looking away from the footage and making eye contact with the team, with Logan, and you understood it wasn’t pity you heard in his voice, but a form of fear. Your anger slowly dissipated as you took in the state of the room - everyone in that room (who wasn’t bald) had hair floating up into the air, falling under the influence of the clouded electricity that filled the ceiling, just as one is before they get struck by lightning. 

And gods above you had almost struck them. 

Your fists fell lax at your sides, realization of the height of your emotions, the loss of control taking over your features. “I-” you stuttered, unsure how to apologize for the pain you nearly inflicted. “I-I’m sorry.”

For a moment, no one moved a muscle, no one said a word. It wasn’t the first time you had lost control, but it was the first time any of them were in danger because of it. Everyone stood like statues, watching you with bated breath, as if you were one nudge away from electrocuting the masses. You turned and fled the room, quickly striding back to your room to inevitably lock yourself in. It was the only place you felt like you could be and not hurt anyone.

Hours had passed since, but you couldn’t shake the look on their faces, the pure fright they showed, caused by you. Decidedly, that wouldn’t happen again - you wouldn’t allow it, in any capacity. Would they always fear you now? Could you manage to stay surrounded by people you loved, but knew there would always be a limit to how far their love for you went? Could you withstand the constant pins and needles your family would walk on around you, again?

It was that thought that had you hurriedly shuffling through your closet to find the duffle bag you had lugged over your shoulder when you were originally picked up by X-Men. It was crumbled into a wrinkled ball on the top shelf, thought to no longer have any use. 

You paced around the room, picking up the things you knew you couldn’t leave without. The students can go through my clothes, you thought with some sort of sad acceptance. Though, that didn’t keep you from packing some of the staples. The school logo printed on a t-shirt, an old sweatshirt that was singed from a fire fight in your first mission with the rest of the team, a stolen old flannel that smelt like smoke and whiskey-

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” You look up almost startled at Logan standing at the door to your bedroom, now cracked wide open. Logan… You’d nearly forgotten about the worst part - leaving him behind.

He leans against the door frame with a confused expression, arms crossed over his chest. You furrow your brows before turning back to the half-full duffle bag that sat on the foot of your bed. You knew you couldn’t look at him when you spoke again. 

“I’m leaving,” you nearly mutter and you stuff more clothes into the bag. You can feel your eyes getting hot, and try to take a deep breath to calm yourself. 

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” he asks, his own brows furrowing. “Leaving for a mission?”

Your movements paused. You could tell the truth, but the reality was that he would try to stop you. And even if nothing had come out of the tension that hung between the two of you, you knew you would give in. 

“Yeah,” you swallowed as you lied. “Just a quick one, some intel gathering. I’m leaving sometime tomorrow morning.”

There was a brief pause, like Logan was trying to get a read on how truthful you were being. “Maybe I should come with you,” he says. “For backup, just in case.”

You clench your eyes shut - of course, he thought you needed to be accompanied. “I’ll be fine on my own,” your hands slow their movements as you place the last item in the bag, a gray zip up hoodie Logan had given you once. Were you saying that to reassure him, or yourself? You lied through your teeth like it was painful, as if the act of clenching your jaw so hard would break your bones and your will. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

There was another pause, and you were sure he was going to call your bluff, but he just clicked his tongue. “Well alright,” he said gruffly, almost dejectedly. His hand fiddled with the door frame for a moment hesitantly. “You know that if you need-“

“I know,” you interrupted, turning to give him a tight smile. “I know.” He gave a saddened half smile before nodding and walking away. 

The space he once occupied at the door was empty now, but for a moment you stared at as if he was still there, as if he was still trying to comfort you even when he didn’t know how. 

An errant tear slipped from your eye and trailed down your face for a moment before you snapped back into reality, wiping the tear away quickly with the heel of your hand. You aggressively zipped up the bag and slung it over your shoulder, eager to leave before anyone, mainly Charles, got an idea of your plan. 

With the click of the front door, and the clap of a thunderstorm on the dark horizon, you were gone. 

As Logan left your room, he externally winced at his inability to provide comfort - to you of all fucking people - as if the non-action hurt him. The pain on your face seeped into the air and into his adamantium bones, as if it was transferable through the longing gazes and secretly honeyed words. 

He hung his head and he slowly walked further down the hall, a part of him hoping he would hear your door creak open and hear you call out his name. Instead, he was met with the faint sniffles of a teary nose that only his heightened hearing could pick up, a scuffle of fabric being shoved tightly into the duffle that was then harshly zipped shut with a shuddering sigh.

He turned the corner to retreat to his room before he could hear any more, deciding to join the mission the next morning anyways. 

The following morning, Logan made his way to Charles, unexpecting wanting to make his intentions to follow her known to someone. He entered the room, Charles already staring directly at him with a face one could only describe as similar to an omniscient god.

“Logan,” Charles spoke, somewhat resigned. “She doesn’t have a mission.”

Logan paused in his step with a furrowed brow. “What are you talking about? She said she was leaving this morning.”

“I did not give her one,” he confirms. “I have a feeling-”

Logan cut him off before the professor could continue. His jaw was clenched tight as he spoke the words. “She left.”

A tense silence took over the room, Charles watching Logan with a straight, yet dissecting gaze. Logan broke eye contact and looked away momentarily as he felt his heart sink to his stomach for the first time in decades. 

Finally, he looked back to Charles with a determined glare. “Where is she?”

The side of the professor’s mouth twitches up. 

—-

It only took two days for Logan to reach you. Charles was able to track your location easily as soon as he was asked. It took nothing for Logan to take the bike and peel out of the upstate town. Now, he stood in the rain staring at the shitty side-of-the-road motel with a simmering glare. 

His mind floated despondently in the air above him, completely unattached from his body as it stomped its way up the stairs and down the hall to your room. His fist banged on the door loudly, uncaring of its stability under his metal skeleton. His heightened exhaustion and emotions tethered him enough to not let his head fly too far away from him, but the reality was that he hadn’t slept since you left and the only words he spoke were to himself as he practiced what he would say to get you to return.

But then, the door swung open. His mind snapped back to his body as soon as he saw your face, but the pleas he had planned to beg left him just as quick. 

“You lied to me,” he growled, he accused, standing in the open door, his hands resting up on the door frame. The rain continued to pour just past the motel covering, evidence of its duration linger in the form of wet tracks down his leather jacket, the dampness of his hair, the drops that stuck to his face. 

“Logan-”

“You lied to me, Y/N,” he repeated, a new kind of angry heat simmering in his eyes. “You were not leaving for a mission.”

You take another deep breath. “‘M leaving for good,” you utter softly, your hands trembling slightly at the first out loud admission of what you had planned to do. You circled the back in the room, putting the cheap mattress in between you as some sort of barrier. The duffle bag he saw you packing days ago sat mockingly between you both. 

“Come on, what the fuck? ‘Leaving for good’?” He asks incredulously, taking a step forward and letting his arms drop to his sides. “You were going to leave the mansion, just like that?”

You stare at the duffle’s opening, having only reached that motel hours ago, not long enough to unpack the only remaining items you had. “I can’t stay, Logan,” you say softly, not moving to look at him. “No matter how careful I am, no matter how hard I try, I can’t control it, I can’t control me. Even Charles doesn’t know what to do with me, I-I had to leave, it’ll be better for everyone.”

“No,” he says defiantly, moving cautiously closer around the side of the bed. “Not everyone.”

The tears welled in your eyes at his words, unable to stop them from falling and you crossed your arms in front of you protectively, the tear-stained cuffs of the hoodie, his hoodie, pushed up your forearms. “Why are you here, Logan?”

“Why am I- are you stupid?” He scoffed, causing you to flinch at his harshness. “I’m here to bring you back. You’re not leaving the school, you’re not leaving me alone-”

“You don’t want me,” you cried, with tears streaming down your face as you shake your head. He can feel his heart break at the side of your distress. “None of you do. I nearly struck all of you the other day, just because I got emotional. I almost hurt you, and that’s the last thing you need, Logan.”

Logan quickly moves closer to stand in front of you and cups your cheeks, bringing your wet eyes to his. “Don’t you get it,” he says with a strained, rough voice. His thumbs sweep gently under your eyes to brush away the tears. “You are the only thing I need. Fuck everything and everyone else.”

Your hands come up to hold onto his wrist, keeping his hands exactly where they are on your face. “Logan-” you stutter as you search his eyes almost hopefully. “What are you saying?”

There’s a brief silence in between your soft sniffles and the sound of the rain on the other side of the motel door. When Logan speaks again, it is deliberate, and it’s what he wanted to say all along. “I’m saying I am nothing without you, sweetheart,” he urges, his thumb pulling your bottom lip from your teeth. “I was nothing before you, and I know that if you leave now, I’ll be nothing all over again. Not a single person in that school wants you to leave, me especially.”

You squeeze your eyes shut in time with the hopeful clenching of your heart, forcing tears out as you do so. You rest your forehead against Logan’s as he continues. “Please,” he nearly whispers, his nose bumping against yours. “Come home with me and turn nothing into something again.”

You nodded against him and spoke a wet “okay” before pressing your lips, finally, against his. And, just as you had predicted you would several nights ago, you gave in. 

_____

a/n: quickly posting this bc if i keep staring at it i'll never post it pls tell me how i did :D logan smut comin soon, pls like, comment, reblog

[reiderwriter]

Smutty part two of the hand to hand combat fic plz

A/N: Your wish is my command! I think a lot of people were frustrated at where I left the first part off lol, so here's a special treat for everyone who lowkey hated me after that lmao. Enjoy! 18+ MINORS DNI Also it is a crime that there aren't more gifs of Spencer wet, I have used most of them ㅠㅠ

You can read the first part here!

Warnings: shower sex, fingering, suggestive washing idk, Intercrural sex (he fucks the gap between her thighs for a while), no contraception, PinV sex, slight cum play? I guess?

You can also find my masterlist here, and if you enjoy my 18+ works, I'm partaking in kinktober, and you can find out about all of my plans here :]

As you washed off the day's sweat, standing in the shower rooms of the FBI gym, you cursed the gods above for making you such a coward. 

If you'd been bolder during your sparring session with Spencer, you could've ended the day in a much more pleasurable way, or you'd at least have the memory of whatever you'd do to aid your fantasies. You thought back to your humbling defeats of earlier that day. You really thought you could get the upper hand on Reid in at least one of your rounds, but no. He’d got the jump on you all three times, leaving you squirming under his touch on the mat as he enjoyed his defeats. 

The second-round had been close, having the initial upper-hand being in the assailant role, but he’d used his extra height to throw you off balance, pinning you to the ground from behind, his hands trapping yours against your lower back. You’d blushed at the compromising position, your ass raised suggestively, his bodyweight pushed on top of yours, crotch to your centre, as you tried stay calm despite the very thin materials of both of your work out gears that separated you. 

Not that you were complaining about the extra contact, but you weren’t beneath using it as an excuse for your loss. In your final round, he’d let you think you hand the upper hand for a second, teasing you about enjoying the view from your place above him, straddling his waist as you pinned him down. By that point, you were beyond horny, reaching near orgasmic levers of desperation to feel him push up into you, and he’d let you enjoy the feeling of your core grinding into him for a few minutes. Just long enough that no one else would notice that your movements weren’t simply struggles to keep him pinned. Then, he’d gone and ruined it by thrusting his hips up quickly and using the momentum and your shock to buck you off to the side, returning you to your earlier pinned pose. Despite the losses, you couldn’t really find much else to complain about other than the fact that you hadn’t kissed him right then and there, having not thrown caution to the wind. 

With each pulse of water from the shower head, you tried to clear your head, but he'd consumed your thoughts. You didn't think you wanted him this badly, but apparently one touch was all it took for you to become aware of the desire you had for him. You let your own hands trail between your legs as you decided to deal with your bodies pent up frustrations.

The door to the bathroom opened, though, just when you were about to get going and you had to pull your hand away as you called out to your new friend. 

"Pen? That you? God I'm so fucking sweaty from that work out." You laughed a little as you greeted her, but the other person didn't make any other noises, stopping dead in their tracks. 

"Y/N?" Somehow your blood ran cold as your body heated up. 

"Spencer? What are you…?" You whipped your head around to get a look at him over the glass shower stall door, pulling your hands over your chest, reflexively. 

"Morgan said the men's showers were broken, and he was heading home to shower. But I can't sit for that long on the subway without getting rid of all this sweat. He said there'd be no one else in here since we stayed so late…. I can… I can leave if you need me to?" 

"No! No, it's okay, it's not like we're using the same shower or anything, and I don't want you to feel so… Uncomfortable." 

He thanked you, then slipped into a stall a three away from your own, as you tried your best not to watch the flex of his arms as he firmly gripped his towel around himself. 

Turning back to your own shower, you decided you needed to speed it up, actually get on with it so you could escape this awkward, tempting situation. You were almost sure this was some kind of divine punishment. You lathered up your hair and began to massage your head when the water suddenly ran so cold it burned. 

"Ah, shit," you whimpered out as you ran from the water as quickly as possible. 

"Um, Spencer?" 

"Y-Yeah," he responded, having heard your moans and immediately perked his head up. 

"Your shower stall, it's the second from the door right?" 

"Yeah, why?" 

"Shit, I should've mentioned something," you ran a hand through your hair as you turned off your shower. "That one doesn't work too well, when you use hot water in that one for some reason, it makes the rest of these showers run cold for the rest of the day." 

"Oh, I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't realise." 

"No, it's good, I guess it's just cold shower time for me now." You sighed in a huff of annoyance, and turned your shower back on. 

"Do you… Do you want to come and use this one? My water's still hot and the cold water really won't be good for relaxing your muscles after all that work." 

"With you?" Your eyes meet his over the walls of your shower stall and you try not to sound too eager. Maybe this could be your chance after being such an idiot earlier. 

"Yeah, I guess. I still need to, you know, wash up?" 

You nodded at him then, and began collecting your things, your towels in your hands covering your sensitive areas, but only just as you stepped into his space.

He pressed himself against one of the walls as you entered, doing his best to cover his cock with his hands, but failing pretty miserably. You shot a single look down there, hoping he didn't notice. He was hard, and God did you want to help him out. 

But unsure of how to broach the topic, you ignored it and put your things down, before turning in to face the shower. A little sign of contentment fell over you as you felt the heat against your skin again, body relaxing as you began washing off your hair once again. 

You felt him move until he was a shadow at your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. 

"Y/N, let me help you clean your back. I don't want you to flare up that arm injury, and you're not reaching that well." 

"What?" Ill advisedly, you turn to face him. His eyes trail over your body, landing on the swell of your chest as you stand only millimeters from touching. Gently dragging his eyes back up, he repeats his plea, and turns you around, grabbing your body wash.

"Trust me, I'll help." But you know this isn't going to do any good easing the tension in your body, his hands on you being as distracting as they were. You almost jusmo a little when his bare hands finally come down on your waist. 

"S-Spencer I have a loofah!" You almost moan out as he begins to rub circles into your skin with his fingers spread. He's closer now, and with his hands out of the way. You can feel his cock, bare against your ass, twitching as you realise he's getting a lot of pleasure out of this. 

"Do you know how much bacteria can live on one of those things? You wanted to get clean, right?" It's all you can do not to buck back into him as he releases the words, hands coming up to your shoulders as he works his strength into your skin. His hands feel so good against you, that you barely notice them slipping around your front, as he begins to work on the plains of your stomach as well.

You throw your head back against his chest in pleasure as he slips higher and higher, hands eventually cupping your breasts as he slowly lathers them up, taking his time to feel every single inch of your skin. You whimper in your pleasure, and you hear his heavy breathing similarly pick up. 

"Spencer…" You don't know what your words are asking, begging for, but it's clear he does, as his hands spread. One goes up to your neck, wrapping around you tightly as you gasp out a breath, the other washing hanging in the air as he rids it of soap before trailing down between your legs. 

His fingers find your clit and you whimper. 

"That's it baby, I'm just gonna help you get clean, okay? Gonna make you feel good, too." You nod at his words, giving him the silent confirmation he needs to press his cock in between your thighs and start rubbing it up against you, not yet pushing it in. You're pushing your ass back into him now as he starts to fuck the folds of your sweet cunt, writhing in pleasure everytime his tip catches on your hole, pleasure rolling off your tongue in waves. 

His hand on your neck keeps you from gaining volume, keeping you grounded as he gets you close to that euphoric bliss. You're desperate to actually feel him inside you though, squirming in the hopes that one of his thrusts will accidentally land on target. 

"Spencer, please…" You know what you want now, and you're desperate for him to listen, as you turn your head to the side, grabbing the back of his own as you pull him down for a sloppy kiss. His hips still as he falls into the kiss, tongue dragging over your lips and begging for entrance. His hand stays on your clit though, and within a few more rubs you feel yourself twitch in his arms, fully held up by his hand on your neck. 

"Spencer, please, need you…" 

"Are you sure, Y/N? This is still a public bathroom, and I don't want you to think you have to do anything just bec-" You cut him off with another kiss, and that's all he needs before he's pressing you back into the shower stall, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing his cock inside of you. 

You pulled his lips down to yours again and again, desperate to taste him, shower abandoned behind you. His pace picked up and soon he was slamming into you, with the full force of his body, the weight that had earlier been used to pin you down now being used to pleasure you to the fullest. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, letting his eyes fall to the place where your two bodies met, his grunts filling the space as you tried your best to bite your tongue. You knew that if you let yourself be as loud as you could've been in that moment, someone would definitely notice. 

"Just like that, Spencer, fuck, just like that." Your hips bucked wildly against his as he pulled your other leg up and around him, holding you fully off the ground as he continued his movements. 

You gripped his back, letting your nails find any purchase they could, dragging scratches down his skin, marking him as yours. You didn't feel so bad about the pain you must've been dealing him though, not when his hands were leaving red handprints on your hips from his tight grip, the sharp discomfort only fuelling your passion. 

"Spence, I'm… Fuck I'm close." Your head slumped into his neck. 

"Cum for my, Y/N, need to feel you clench around my cock." He grunted, and somehow your body listened to his demands perfectly, spilling over the edge with his next thrust. 

He moaned out quickly, lowering your legs to the floor, still holding you up, as he pulled out and stroked his cock a few more times. His white release painted both of your stomachs with his climax, and you fell against each other in your bliss, trying to both gain back your normal heart rate and calm your breath. 

"Spencer, I think we need to get back in the shower," you smiled up at him, and dragged him back over to it as he flushed, not finding the words needed to apologise for his mess. 

You pulled him in for a kiss under the water and mentally thanked Morgan for putting you through hell that day. He pulled away from you to attempt to talk, but you didn't want to let him. 

"You know," he started, but you tried to shut him up again, wanting desperately to feel his lips right back on yours. 

"Y/N, please," he laughed pulling your head away from him as you whined out childishly. 

"You know, Morgan was lying about us needing to do this physical thing." Your eyes bulged at the confession, as you tried to stammer out a reply. 

"What? I… What?" 

"He pulled the same act a year or so ago, too. Y/N, Penelope is never in the field, she doesn't have to do physical training, and we both have enough case hours to cover any further requirements." 

"So he… ThatThat son of a bitch." You muttered angrily to yourself as he ran a hand through your still damp hair, smiling down on you peacefully. 

"Wait, Spencer… If you knew that he was making this whole thing up, why did you go along with it?" 

"Needed an excuse." He pulled you in for another kiss, this one slow and languid, as you felt him twitch to life again at your thigh. 

"An excuse for what?" You moaned out as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving behind a trail of love bites you were sure would bloom into purple bruises, just another decoration for your neck alongside his handprint. 

"An excuse to touch you. You're very good at following professional boundaries, you know?" You laughed at him once more and let him pull you close into him again. It took you an extra hour to shower that day, but it was worth every second. 

[callsignserpent]

🇦🇹 König x Medic Reader Headcanons 🇦🇹

The whole ordeal was meant to start out innocently, believe it or not.

This giant boi had come walking into the medical bay after one particularly tough mission, sporting multiple lacerations across one arm and his face, along with a few bruises.

The way he'd sat there quietly as he waited for his turn, grumbling to himself in German, something about how he "doesn't need the hospital".

But when it was finally his turn and he'd seen you? Oh, this man was a goner, from the very beginning.

It was like a switch had been flicked, his whole demeanor changing in a snap.

Grumbling, stubborn 6'8" Austrian now becomes quiet, curiously observant patient.

"How did you get these?" you'd asked, gesturing to the cuts visible beneath the torn sections of his shirt.

"Die Mission verlief nicht gut", he'd simply responded in German, shrugging like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You'd been with KorTac long enough to have picked up several fluent phrases here and there, so you sort of understood him. Kind of.

You'd told him you needed to clean the cuts and bruises, and like a good soldier, he'd sat there and taken it, only wincing once, when you'd gone to clean the cut along the edge of his jawline, visible beneath the torn, ragged section of his sniper hood.

"Es tut mir Leid..." you'd hastily apologized.

The utter look of shock that passed over König's face when he heard you speak his native tongue-!

"Du sprichst Deutsch?" he'd grunted, trying not to crack a smile, to which you'd nodded and held up a finger and thumb inches apart, indicating you spoke just a little.

He'd seemed almost thoughtfully quiet after that, sitting and watching you as you worked.

Once you were done, König had seemed almost.. disappointed? ...that the time had gone by too quickly.

You'd dismissed him quietly with a gentle smile, telling him he was welcome back any time if he needed something.

And you better believe this man took those words to heart, quite literally.

Because not even three days later, he was back again, this time for just a small series of scrapes he'd sustained along the backs of his knuckles, presumably from a tussle with someone else.

"Ich würde den anderen Kerl ungern sehen, ja?" you'd joked in broken German, upon which König had accidentally cracked a grin beneath his hood, before he'd corrected himself.

"Your German is getting better, maus..." he'd answered, his tone unusually soft that day.

The answering blush in your face that little nickname had produced, that was a look König would picture several times in his head later that night.

From that point on, he would make it his mission to call you cute little nicknames like "maus", "liebling", "meine lieb"...

He'd also make it a point to try and find some excuse or another to see you throughout the week.

"Colonel, it's just mild allergies."

"Colonel, you're not bleeding, it's fine. Nein, you don't need stitches. Ja, I'm sure."

To which he'd insist "König. Und ja, it'll get better faster if you look at it, liebling, bitte?"

Everyone on KorTac's base eventually noticed how their Colonel had become a frequent flyer to the infirmary, their hushed whispers sometimes being overheard.

"Surely he can't be getting hurt that often?" "Is he clumsy, or is it on purpose?" "Maybe it's just bad luck...?"

Little did they all know, you were the real reason he kept showing up.

You yourself were sort of oblivious the first couple of times, until you eventually caught on.

König would even wait until your shift was done for the day, trying to appear casual as he leaned against the doorway to the infirmary, having to duck down a little due to his monstrous height.

Sometimes he'd bring you little gifts too, little things you could keep at your work station, or take back to barracks with you.

(The little stuffed brown bear dressed in a nurse's uniform was your pride and joy, always sat on display at your desk.)

On a more serious note, there was only ever one time he had scared the living shit out of you, when he had gotten really hurt.

A few of KorTac's best had been sent out on a mission, and König had been among them. When he'd gotten back, it was... bad.

You'd never seen so much blood in your life, and you weren't even sure half of it was actually his.

You'd spent that entire night (and the next) looking after him, surviving off coffee and pure adrenaline just to stay awake for him.

And when he'd finally opened his eyes a day later, even his badly torn sniper hood couldn't hide the soft grin that lit up this man's face.

"Mein liebling, sie sind hier?"

The light swat you'd given him, combined with the way your eyes shone with unshed tears, his gaze would soften so fast.

"I thought I was gonna lose you, Kö..."

"Nein, meine kleine maus, Ich würde dich zu sehr vermissen." came his gentle reply.

From that point on, the two of you were nearly inseparable; wherever you went, he would follow, and vice versa.

It would eventually reach the point where if anyone would try and mess with you, they'd very quickly be warned not to fuck with "the Colonel's girl".

You'd rather liked the sound of that, perhaps a little more than you should.

Being König's favorite person, that wasn't so bad.. right?

💀 TAGLIST: @nixwolfe @konigsbeloved @konigsblog @konigslittleliebling @kghostly @konigsqueen @konig-brain-rot @your-booklover-gal @konig-breedme @konig-is-bbygrl @koenigsbleachedshirt

[mvrders-are-okay]

— ( I HATE YOU . . . ! )

— [ kunikuzushi × male reader ]

— [ content warnings: modern au – uni students. afab scara. friends with benefits trope. toxic reader, toxic relationship, i do not condone any of this in real life and nor should you. drunk reader. dub con. size difference. mating press. degration. no aftercare. ]

— ( NOTES . . . ! )

this is my first work.

as a broke college university student, the ever so sharp-tongued kunikuzushi could do nothing but share an apartment with you. it also didn’t help that his mother didn’t care about him – not that he’s complaining, he’s used to it.

he guesses this is better – having moved out for college – than staying with his so-called mother, enduring the uncomfortable silence between the two of them. they’ve always had an unspoken tension. his mother, ei, isn’t a bad mother, per sé, but rather inexperienced. she almost left him at the mall once when he was young, and that’s just the start of it. ei proved to be a careless parent, and it only proved him right more when she got a new lover, yae miko.

ah, well, past is past.

kunikuzushi was currently in the small kitchen of the apartment, heating up some instant ramen to satiate his growing hunger. school has been nothing but a bitch to him lately, not once giving him a break. not only that, but the people surrounding him never ceases to give him a headache, thus why he’s always so hotheaded – with his good friend childe always there to calm him down.

what also gave him even more migraine is you. he expected to hate you, too, just like he hate everyone else. but he was slapped by reality.

fuck. in kunikuzushi’s eyes, you’re a fucking asshole and a jerk. you were the typical bad boy or the hot delinquent from those cheesy rom-coms. but . . . in the first few months of the two of you rooming together, your somewhat of a charming personality grew on him, despite him trying to deny it to himself.

and before he knew it, he was falling. hard.

he claimed himself being insensitive. he was harsh and full of attitude, which led him into thinking he can’t fall in love, or simply feel fond or affectionate in general.

but archons was he wrong.

“how’s my favorite roommate doing?”

kunikuzushi involuntarily flinched. oh, you came home early from your friend’s house. he scrunched his nose as his nostril was filled with your scent; you reeked of alcohol and . . . did you smoke?

“i’m your only roommate,” he found himself replying.

“yeah, but that still doesn’t mean you can’t be my favorite.”

with kunikuzushi having his arms folded akimbo to his chest, and leaning against the counter, he just jolted slightly in surprise when he felt your lips against his cheek.

oh, yeah, right – the two of you had this arrangement. the cliché friends with benefits, no strings attached. kunikuzushi had long broken that rule, obviously. fuck, he doesn’t even know why he agreed.

kunikuzushi huffed, moving away. “you stink.”

“oh?” he heard you say, he could tell you weren’t offended. “what’s got you so uptight tonight?”

he hated this. he hated how you always render him speechless, and how he’s tongue-tied, when he shouldn’t be. he felt insecure – he felt very conscious about how he’s going to reply; how he’s going to form the words.

“fuck off,” kuni settled on saying.

“hey, now, dolly —”

“stop calling me that, you jerk.”

you inched closer to him, and because he was already cornered against the counter, he just had to lean his body back. you were caging him in with your arms, and your mouth was already latching itself in the pulse of his neck.

what bothered him, though, is him not pushing you away. he just . . . let you continue.

“i missed you, you know? say, how long since we last fucked?” you asked, your voice going huskier and deep, all while wrapping your arms around his petite waist to hug him to your chest. he was much shorter than you – the height difference making his knees feel jelly as it always does. you easily overpower him, you could ruin him any time.

“l-last week,” he replied.

“hm, too long, eh?”

the last thing he saw was your malicious smirk, and he just found himself being carried in a bridal-style, and him being thrown into his bed – it all happened so fast.

“i missed your body, doll.” he couldn’t help but whine into your words, giving in to your faux affections.

you climbed on top of him, spreading his legs wide with you settled between them. you leaned down and latched your mouth on the side of his neck again, making him moan. you two never kissed – it was also one of the rules. it’s always just you marking his neck, his collarbone, anywhere you can access.

“ah —” kunikuzushi gasped at the feeling of your nimble fingers tracing circles in his clit through his skimpy shorts.

“such a slut,” you murmured against his ear. “always falling for me. you have no sense of pride nor dignity. you always just allow me to use you like the cheap whore you are.”

kuni found himself tearing up at your words. you were right, and that only made it hurt more; that it will always be just him feeling something.

you lifted up his baggy shirt, pinching his nipples and he whimpered, arching his hips into your fingers. he was soaking wet.

“you’re mine, got it, slut?”

kuni hated himself the way he just nodded. “m-mhm . . . oh — !”

you had ripped off his shorts and his lacy underwear coming next. you proceeded inserting two fingers in his wet, hot cunt. you scissored him with no remorse, curling your fingers and repeatedly hitting his bundle of nerves which made him arch his back deliciously.

he felt himself fast approaching, his toes curling and his eyes rolling back with a silent scream as he squirted into your fingers.

“that was fast,” you said, letting him ride out his orgasm. you pulled out your fingers and admired his slick and cum glistening under the dim room. then, you inserted them into his mouth, letting him taste himself. he complied, sucking your fingers, full of experience – he didn’t even gag when they reached the back of his throat.

kuni watched with hazy eyes as you unbuckled your belt, taking off your trousers. he saw your prominent bulge against your boxers, and he felt his breath getting knocked out of his lungs when you also took it off, your huge cock springing free and slapping against your toned abdomen. it never fails to make his insides churn in nervousness and excitement, no matter how many times that thing entered him.

you pumped your cock a few times before aligning it to his pussy. kuni’s eyes rolled back as your tip entered, and he screamed when you bottomed out.

you held his legs and pushed them back, his knees tucked to his chest, which made you reach deeper.

“oh . . . ah . . . ahah . . .” he moaned shamelessly as the two of you rocked back and forth, your thick cockhead kissing his womb.

“you like that, bitch?” you grunted out. “you’re so tight . . .”

“mhm! yes – yes . . . like that – I love it — !” he loves you. “right there, right there! please – d-don’t stop!”

you thrusted in and out of him in an animalistic pace. aach one sending his mind off the abyss, he’s seeing stars.

“you’re mine. mine. all mine,” you said, fucking him brutally he knows he wouldn’t be able to walk for a few days – and he fucking loved it. “this slutty body of yours is mine, all right? say it, slut.”

“yours, yours! hah—a-all yours . . . only yours!”

you chuckled, which caused him to flush deep red. he was so fucked dumb, he can’t think straight anymore.

“i’m cumming, doll —”

“inside. Inside, please! hng—!” impregnate him for all he fucking cares. knock him up, and he’d love it ‘cause then you wouldn’t leave him.

or would you?

no, that can’t happen.

kunikuzushi’s eyes rolled far back, his back arching miles off of bed when you busted your load inside him, ensuring a child to grow inside of him.

he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close – wanting to make this last.

yet he just wallowed in self-pity and hatred when you pulled out, stood up from the bed, dressed up, and left his room without a word.

i beg to please do not plagiarize my works—it’s no fun.

© mvrders-are-okay [ 2023 ]

[42ap]

I remember that day when we arrived at the beach—it was already too late. Everyone had left, leaving behind only the remnants of fireworks scattered across the sand. Colorful confetti, soaked by the sea, made the advertising print on them nearly illegible. Among shards of broken colored glass and seaweed, you found an already opened condom wrapper in the muck and excitedly pointed it out to me, while I felt nothing but disgust.

At the time, I didn’t love this filthy backyard excuse for a scenic spot. I hated how dull, backward, and utterly empty it was. I especially despised how other small-town residents saw it as some romantic haven, drawing teenagers who wandered the damp sand like pilgrims. They’d come meticulously dressed, as if convinced their destined love would emerge from the sea, birthed into the arms of a lonely soul like a newborn from its mother’s amniotic fluid. But this was the 1970s—the moon was already covered in steel machines. Even Venus ought to emerge from a delivery room by now. The beach was no place for romantic miracles.

You nudged me and told me to take off my shoes. I didn’t. You burst into laughter and, with no regard for the risk of being cut by glass, walked barefoot onto the damp sand. I watched your feet, but you didn’t step on anything—not glass, not anything else. You kept walking into the sea, farther and farther, fading into the growing darkness. Soon, I could barely make out your figure in the vast, dark ocean. Then you stopped, raised your arms, and shouted toward the opposite shore, your voice swallowed at the edges by the white noise of the waves. You sounded happy.

When you came back, you said, disappointed, that you hadn’t expected everyone else to leave so early. You strained your eyes toward the other side but saw nothing—not even the lights of New York. Because it’s already four in the morning, I said, swallowing the second half of my sentence. We were late because I wouldn’t leave the house until I finished an assignment I was deeply invested in at the time. You never interrupted my studies.

We leaned against the car, watching sparks crawl along the fuses of the fireworks you’d set up, and you cracked open a can of beer. I declined when you offered me one, immediately regretting it. The fuse took far too long to ignite the firework. I had nothing to do but look around and again caught sight of the torn condom wrapper. Not long ago, someone had made love here, I thought. Then you moved.

We were standing so close that I could feel your body heat in the gaps between the sea breeze. Someone had made love here, right on this beach, and now we stood on the very same sand where they had.

The firework exploded—yellow and orange. You shouted in excitement, but I was lost in thoughts of what happens when people make love. They take off their clothes. They touch each other. They whisper sweet words. Smoke rolled up from the firework casing as I turned to look at your face, bathed in orange-red light. Then, with a jolt of horror, I realized that lovers also kiss on this beach.

As the yellow sparks faded, they turned the color of calcium chloride. The purple ones, I thought, must be from strontium salts and copper chloride. These burning metal salts streaked through the air, their brilliant colors dyeing the smoke that trailed behind them. I tilted my head and lowered my gaze, pretending to examine the firework casing but really sneaking glances at your face from the corner of my eye, trying to study the shape of human lips.

Kissing. I thought about the word. I didn’t know how to French kiss, but at that moment, I knew nothing could stop me from leaning forward and pressing my lips to yours. A chill ran down my spine.

I asked myself why I would think such a thing, but a more terrifying voice asked why I wouldn’t. Maybe it was a kind of high-place phenomenon, like wondering whether touching the firework would hurt. I wanted to know what it felt like to jump from a great height, to drink sulfuric acid, to press a blade hard enough to slice my finger open, to walk into the sea and let myself be submerged. I wanted to know what would happen if I kissed you. It was all just idle thoughts, but in that moment, I felt dizzy, hyperaware of every part of my body as though I might forget to breathe if I didn’t focus.

I started to feel trapped inside my own small body. I thought I saw you glance at me, and I was terrified you might know. I was even more terrified that you didn’t, because that would mean we weren’t close enough.

I wondered what excuses I could use if I did it, and that thought pained me because I wanted to be honest with you. Sitting beside you on that New Year’s night, watching the fireworks turn purple, all I could think about was how intensely I felt that if I didn’t kiss you at that moment I might die,I would never have another chance. Summoning all my courage, I finally turned to look at you, overwhelmed by thoughts and realizing I might start vomiting if I didn’t speak. Just then, you turned to look at me too. In your eyes, I saw the reflection of the fireworks.

You said, “After we finish the fireworks, can we go to my friend’s house and watch a movie? There’ll be a bunch of people—it’ll be fun.”

I said, “Sure.”

We finished setting off all the fireworks we had. It was fun. We even tried to use the fireworks to light the surface of the sea. On the way back, we saw other people—they had just gone elsewhere to hang out. You stroked the steering wheel, musing about how great the car’s engine was, and that was the first time in my life I felt shame.

[oopsnewaccount]

Moments of Peace/Alex Mahone

Summary: Tension breaks between you and Alex after getting him out of jail.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, smut

...

The daytime was too tense here. At the compound, all of you sitting around the long metal table wracking your brains until it hurt - it was too rigid. You felt like you couldn't breathe until the lights went out, like exhaling wasn't an option until you were alone. You stayed up a little later than everyone else to soak this in, to bathe in silence and to just not think.

You sat tonight on the edge of the table, eyes closed, just breathing. The air was chilly, but not uncomfortably so. You wore a black sports bra and a pair of loose pajama pants, your hair down. You fiddled with the drawstrings of your pants and rubbed your socked feet together, thinking about absolutely nothing for as long as you could.

A deep, gentle voice startled you from your silence.

"I know it was you,"

Alex.

"You know what was me?" You still didn't open your eyes.

"They wouldn't have broken me out if it wasn't for you. I couldn't blame them. This was all you,"

Ah, yes. It had been hard. Alex had been caught at the horse race yesterday afternoon and taken into custody. Agent Self had made a lackluster attempt at freeing him, but ultimately failed. Practically you understood why breaking him out was not in the best interest of the group or the mission. Hell, a few months ago you would have said fuck him. But, after the time you'd all spent with him, you had grown very attached to Alexander Mahone. As soon as you saw him in cuffs your heart dropped. You begged and begged the group nonstop to find a way to get him out, and eventually Michael agreed.

Now he was back and standing right in front you - like, right in front of you. If he was any closer to your perch on the edge of the table he'd be touching you.

"It wasn't all me. They agreed, they were given the option to opt out and they didn't."

You opened your eyes. Alex was looking down at you just slightly, his lips holding the slightest smile. He was wearing sweatpants you struggled not to look at and a tight grey t-shirt that showed off his strong arms. He had a bit of scruff on his face, much nicer than the clean cut version of him you first met, and his hair was just messy enough to be attractive rather than unkempt.

"My theory," your breath caught in your throat as Alex reached up, gently tucking a bit of your hair behind your ear. "Is that no one can say no to you."

He let his hand linger on the side of your face and you leaned into it, smiling when he moved his hand to softly hold your jaw.

"Does that include you?"

He chuckled. "I don't know. What I do know is that I think of you every second of the day and somehow you always come to my rescue."

You sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying the tense moment. You leaned up just slightly, Alex in turn leaning down a bit. You laid a hand on his chest, his coming to cover yours. With your other hand you held his wrist, keeping his hand on your jaw.

"I would never have left you there."

"I know." The words barely left his lips before he leaned down, pressing his mouth to yours. Your hand on his chest grabbed his shirt, and the hand laid over yours moved to your hip, gripping you tightly. You released his wrist and moved to hold his face. You didn't know how, the compound wasn't exactly stocked with Bath and Body Works, but Alex smelled like cedar and cologne. His lips were soft but rough against yours. His tongue was in your mouth and his hands were tight around you. You let out a soft moan as he kissed you, your heart beat quickening and your thighs pressing together.

Alex pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours. He was a bit out of breath, it pleased you how restrained he seemed, like he was just barely holding on to control. "I think we should go to my room,"

You bit your lip, rubbing his jaw with your thumb. "I mean... the table is a good height."

Alex let out a breathy laugh, dropping his head. "You sure about that?"

You released Alex, lifting your hips from the cold table and pulling your pajama pants down and tossing them from your ankles to the floor. Alex stepped back, eyeing you like a predator watching its prey. You lifted your bra just over your breasts. You shifted to the very edge of the table, bringing your knees up and apart, totally spread out for him.

You could see him calculating his next move, hand palming the delightfully large bulge in his sweats. To your surprise, he reached down, collecting your discarded pants, and then scooped you up off the table. You let out a surprised sound, throwing your arms around his neck as he carried you. You giggled at him as he brought you through the compound and to his little room, kicking closed the door and then tossing you on the bed. You removed your bra completely, dropping it on the floor of the bed where Alex had laid your pants. He took off his shirt and kicked off his pants and underwear and you couldn't help the little 'mm' that left you as his thick cock bobbed in front of you.

This was a long time coming. You two were always watching each other, unnecessarily brushing by each other, trying to get paired up during missions. You'd almost kissed several times in fleeting moments together, you just hadn't been alone long enough to get anything else done.

Now, Alex was crawling over you as you leaned back on your elbows, legs parted and face flushed. He nestled his head in your neck, leaving wet kisses from your collar bone to the spot beneath your ear. You sucked in a quick breath when you felt his fingers graze your lower lips, dipping in slightly to see if you were ready.

He let out a quiet laugh when he felt the wetness in your pussy engulf his fingers. He pressed his two long digits in deepers, swallowing thickly at how tightly you held just his fingers. You felt smooth and hot and sopping inside and he didn't think he could wait any longer. "You ready?"

You nodded eagerly, clenching your pussy to try to draw him back as he removed his hand from your cunt. He reached his two wet fingers up to your mouth, his lips twitching as you sucked them in. He let out a quiet hum as you sucked them clean, and you shivered as his cock twitched against you.

"Good girl," he mumbled, taking back his fingers. He gave himself a few pumps before lining up his cock and rubbing the tip against you. You shifted up your hips, trying to push him in yourself, whining when he pulled back. He intended on teasing you, but when he took in the sight of you he couldn't help himself. Thick thighs parted to give way to a glistening pretty little pussy. Your tummy was soft and your hips were wide, your breasts slightly pink because your chest was as flushed as your cheeks. Your hair was messy and your pupils were dilated. He could be coy another day.

He leaned down over you, taking your lips in another steamy kiss. He slowly pushed himself in, moaning into your mouth as he bottomed out in you. He stretched you so nicely as he pulled out a bit, pushing back even deeper, his tip pushing against the soft little spot that made your toes curl. You let out a few unintentional moans as his thrusts began to speed up, trying to lift your legs even higher. You weren't trying to be too loud, but you'd wanted this for so long that now that you felt like all of your nerve endings were twice as sensitive. Alex kept his pace up as he leaned back, pushing your legs up and settling his hands in the crook of your knees for leverage. He pounded into you now, the new angle damn near bruising your cervix and making your head spin. You gripped his forarms tightly, head lolling back on his pillow. Alex's expression was intensely concentrated but you could tell he was struggling to hang on. The deeper he pushed and the more he pushed your legs the more you felt the heat in your belly build. You didn't want to cum already, but you wouldn't be able to hold it back.

"Fuck, I'm - I'm -"

You didn't make it through the sentence. It started as a tingle from your fingertips to your toes, a spreading of a euphoric, warm sticky feeling from your lower belly up. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried not to cry out too loudly, your body shuddering as your orgasm hit you. Alex could feel your leg muscles twitching and your cunt clenching. He was almost there too. He kept thrusting in and out, your pussy making a vulgar squelching sound now that you'd cum. You watched his eyebrows furrow, his determined expression faltering. He was almost there.

"In me, Alex. Please cum in me," You begged, riding the high of your orgasm as he continued plunging into you.

Alex nodded, unable to speak anymore. He released your legs, leaning on his elbows over you. He buried his face in your neck, trying to muffle the moans he was no longer able to hold back. You felt his thrusts begin to slow, and with one long moan, you felt him twitch inside you. Spurts of his cum filled you deep inside, and you locked your legs around his waist to keep him in. He stayed in you for a few moments, regaining his breath. You massaged his scalp with one hand, your other hand trailing up and down his spine lightly. He eventually pulled back, kissing you gently and pulling out his now soft cock.

He laid beside you, pulling you tightly into his chest. You tucked your head into his neck, breathing in his scent. His arms wrapped around you and your legs tangled together. You felt warm and untouchable and content. Alex's fingers ran up and down your spine, his other hand playing with your hair. Sleep began to overtake you, your body exhausted from the stress of your current 'job' and the energy of sex, your mind tired of worrying and momentarily at rest.

As your eyes began to close, you felt Alex press soft kisses to your forehead. You lifted your head, kissing his jaw before laying it back down on his broad chest.

"I would never have left you," You mumbled.

"I know." Alex kissed your head again. "I know, Y/N."

You weren't sure where this journey would take you, but at least you knew you'd be with Alex. On one hand you felt more secure knowing you had him, on the other hand you finally had something to lose. It was intimidating, but you wouldn't trade it for the world. You would soak in moments like these whenever you had them, when it was just you and Alex, still and at peace.

[olasketches]

I like Sukuna and Yuuji for the same reason as you! But you can tell me to back off if you don't agree with what I'll say next lol

To me Sukuna being reduced to a petty child is so interesting to me because I used to think of what lead him to take his place as the King of Curse and how it pushed humanity farther than him, as he was already not treated humanely. The same way, he say he doesn't feel anything but Yuuji keep pushing his buttons, something he end up recognizing no matter how boring he call Yuuji. Petty until the end too

As for Yuuji... Despite what the jujutsu world tried to drill into him, he found his way back and found value in life again, and that none of them were worthless. Even Sukuna. Even if he hate him

Because Yuuji applied his reasoning to everyone, Sukuna included. We all knew how Sukuna would react but I still really loved to see Yuuji put his values over his personal feelings

We are all aware of the flaws ect ect... But at the end I am happy I discovered and followed Jujutsu Kaisen.

Do you plan to try phantom parade too? And what do you think about Sukuna admitting defeat and the possibility to take another part

Seem like he took Yuji's "you don't have to take the role of the villain" to heart to me

sukuna is such a petty brat and I wouldn't want him any other way. I think the reason he hated on yuuji so much is because he reminded him too much of himself while also being nothing like him. yuuji and sukuna are two sides of the same coin. yuuji even said so himself “sukuna… you are me” 

during the shinjiku arc the fandom has been pointing out how yuuji was slowly morphing into sukuna or how yuuji is going to become another king of curses. and this could have very well been the case… if only yuuji didn’t have his grandpa. during both shibuya and shinjiku arc this boy has been battling his own demons and darkest instincts. when pushed to his limits yuuji turns into a cold blooded demon and we can clearly see that during his final confrontation with mahito and then over the course of his fight with sukuna.

 I’d argue that if he was rejected the way sukuna was he would’ve turned into something far more demonic than sukuna ever was (and that's a personal opinion) cause despite sharing a lot of similarities and having the same level of potential, yuuji is the one who’s the feeler between the two. he feels deeply and has an immense capacity for love but the same is true for other emotions too. that’s why I don’t like when the fandom downplays yuuji’s kindness and compassion as his default traits and think of them as his weakness that can be broken, exploited or corrupted. there is a reason why sukuna couldn't break yuuji no matter how much he tried (and oh boy… he DID try lol), because his compassion and kindness for others don't come from naiveness or because he doesn’t know any better. yuuji is kind because he actively chooses to be kind and his final moment of empathy and compassion towards sukuna, despite sukuna putting him through hell and back, is the biggest prove of that. 

yuuji is strong in ways sukuna couldn’t be and I think sukuna always knew this but never wanted to admit it or face it. even uraume admitted that yuuji has potential equal to sukuna's and uraume is like… THE BIGGEST sukuna glazer so for uraume to admit something like that means that this has always been the case. I believe that sukuna always knew that yuuji could be his equal. and the reason he kept denying it is because yuuji is nothing like sukuna.

yuuji has never felt rejected or resented by anyone in his childhood. his grandfather loved him and cared for him like he would for his own son. he taught yuuji his core values that he still holds onto till this day. sukuna never had anyone like that. people resented and persecuted him, which pushed him to grow stronger and reach heights no one else could. he wanted revenge to punish and curse those who rejected him first, because he was afraid his own curse would burn him from inside out. so when he came across yuuji, a boy just as strong, with the same potential and the same hair colour lol and realised he is still nothing like him that the only curse he’s burden with is sukuna himself… I think something must have snapped in him. I think that little cursed wretch got jealous. I mean how come this brat, this “weakling” who definitely doesn’t have the same potential as him could ever reach his heights and become as strong as sukuna if not stronger. how come he can be his equal when he’s just so… disgustingly human? it’s like some part of sukuna realised that yuuji is both strong and loved despite carrying a curse inside him, a curse he later realised he was also born with. 

I think that must have stung… knowing that due to some twist of fate, a guy that might as well be another version of him since he was made from the same soul as his… just had it better. that he didn’t have to become the strongest, a deity, a calamity to earn respect and receive love… because he had it from the start. 

so to answer to your question after my long and probably unnecessary rant lol I think the moment yuuji defeated sukuna and THEN offered him to live with him and accepted him even if the rest of the world might not, and despite putting yuuji through hell and later turning into a literal blob, meant more to sukuna than sukuna would ever be willing to admit. In that moment yuuji gave sukuna something no one else ever did - love and acceptance. I think this alone is what allowed sukuna to find peace in death. he may have lost everything, but in the end he was finally able to regain his humanity. I believe that’s why he decided to head north and start again. he died as a curse, but now he can be reborn as human, because in the end he was still loved…

and to be loved is to be changed. 

also right now I'm only enjoying phantom parade through other means (new illustrations and people who actually play it lol) since I’m not a gamer myself… but I still might stick around for a bit longer we’ll see :] 

thank you for your ask and hope to see you around too!! 

[vultursvolans]

— ☆ 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐀

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: whenever summer comes around, especially when dahlias bloom, everything begins to remind you of your late lover

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: alhaitham x gn!reader. sfw. angst. modern!au (could be read as canon tbh), character death mention (alhaitham), hurt/slight comfort, very bittersweet, previously established relationship, unresolved grief, reminiscing, heavy summer and flower themes 0.8k wc. masterlist

a/n: this is my submission for the @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday that we do every few weeks. this time the prompt was "goodbye, my summer love". as I deal with some personal grief rn, writing this was a nice way to cope, and doing a very angsty take was kind of fun. the title of this drabble was named after the perfume 'Midnight Dahlia' by Korres but the plot is my own

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Summer days were always long and languid.

Once, they felt like a letter from a lover, but now they remain a capsule of something lost. Alhaitham always said that when being bathed by the sun, time truly slowed down; if you listened carefully, you could hear the world hum under its breath. 

Alhaitham said a lot of things, which was ironic because back then, you and everyone who knew him, had always teased him for being the quieter type. 

But the truth was you never fully understood ‘quiet’ until he was gone.

It was during the height of summer when he’d bring you dahlias. With his endless knowledge of everything that lived and breathed, you quickly learned the meanings — purple for dignity, yellow for joy, white for purity. His mixed bundles were his way of telling you that, to him, you were all of the above.

Dignified. Joyful. Filled with the purest form of love. 

They weren’t always your favourite but over time, you had grown to love them because they reminded you of him. Since the day he left you, it took you longer than you wanted to admit to stop weeping every time you saw one.

Still, you made the effort to bring some home whenever they were in season. It was akin to pretending that he was not truly gone but just somewhere else for a while.

As the last day of summer transitioned, you sat on the porch, watching the sky deepen into the hours before dawn. The dahlias in the vase beside you were wilting, petals curling as if bracing for the inevitable chill of autumn. Your chest tightened, knowing what that meant.

People used hourglasses to measure time. You had flowers.

You brushed the fragile petals with your fingertips, and for a fleeting moment, you were taken to a time when your world was whole.

It was a late evening when you and Alhaitham sat in silence, surrounded by the last blooms of the season. He had been reading, and you simply watched him, content with the quietness. Amused, he rose from his spot to pluck a single dahlia from the garden and tucked it behind your ear. You were baffled, he noticed in your face, but you relaxed when you were met with his eyes. They were honest and made your skin grow hot. They were worth a room full of gold.

It had been years since Alhaitham passed. The grief dulled but it never left, lingering like a curse that could not be broken. You tried to move forward but summer always brought him back.

Something as simple as a stroll on the beach was enough to tug at your heart because the sand bore one less set of footprints, the warmth of the sun graced one less body, and sometimes when the sea breeze came, you felt the echo of his presence behind you as if you were still walking, hand in hand. 

But it was the dahlias that hurt the most. They mostly bloomed in the heat and every summer, they seemed to grow just for you, as if Alhaitham was sending them as a reminder. 

Closing your eyes, memories came flooding in like waves, threatening to pull you under into the past. You remembered how his hand brushed against you the day he made you his and your fingers involuntarily twitched at the thought. In his bedroom, the air was thick with the scent of earth and flowers, and sunlight spilled lazy shadows onto the wooden floors through his sheer curtains. Your lips quivered because you never forgot how it made you feel when he leaned in and kissed you. You could still taste the sea salt on your lips.

Time stretched endlessly that day but time caught up with everyone, eventually.

You exhaled a shaky breath, your jaw was trembling.

Summer always ruined you.

Grief, no matter how much time passed, always weaved its way back in. Saying goodbye to him never felt final. He lingered in the corners of your heart, in warm afternoons, in the bloom of the dahlias.

When a cool breeze brought you back to the present, you felt the world shake. You opened your eyes just in time to see one of the petals lift from its stem and float away. It danced through the air, weightless and alone, waiting to disappear into the night. You watched it until it was out of sight, lost to the starless sky.

“Goodbye, Alhaitham,” you whispered. You even thought you smiled a little, too. 

For the first week of autumn, you returned to the porch, waiting for a hint of rain and watching for any sign of encroaching storm clouds. You breathed in and out. It was time for the axe to fall.

Goodbye, Alhaitham.

The dahlias will come again next summer, and with them, so would your memories of him. 

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform.

networks: @houseofsolisoccasum @nereidsrealm

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[peachhcs]

can we get any this from Sammy and Will at world I just need my broken heart to be fix for one moment

night out in prague

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

a night off in the city leads to the usa men's team heading into the city for a much needed night out.

1.4k words

as promised, here is some of samy and will at worlds before they broke up because i said i would still write about their happy moments in between the sadness to get a small break from the angst :)

au masterlist

will's gaze stuck itself to samy as she walked towards him with a drunk smile spread across her lips. she wandered off towards the bar an hour ago taking shots with some of the girlfriends of the guys with will keeping a watchful eye on her a few tables away. he enjoyed seeing her get along so well with the others despite their age difference to some of the other players on the team.

the blonde forgot his conversation he was having as samy reached his side. he quickly smiled down at her, "hi."

"hi. miss anything exciting?" the girl wondered, tucking her head into will's shoulder since he was her height sitting in the booth.

"not really. enjoy your shots?" will chuckled lightly when samy eagerly nodded.

"so good. you should've done a round with us," the brunette always got more touchy whenever she got drunk. her fingers reached to will's curls to play with them and the action had the boy flushing.

he loved the feeling of samy's fingers in his hair, but being around everyone else while she did it was still something the boy was getting used to.

the other guys at the table hardly even noticed, but it still sent a blush across will's cheeks nonetheless.

"i'm hungry," samy mumbled as she leaned more into her boyfriend. his arm wrapped around her waist basically keeping her up against him.

"wanna leave soon?" will wondered.

"no, i'm okay. don't wanna pull you away," she hummed towards the guys still in their own conversation will stopped listening to.

"i don't mind. i was thinking about leaving soon anyway," the blonde said.

"are you sure?" samy never wanted to pull her boyfriend away if he wasn't ready to leave. she didn't mind hanging around longer as long as she probably started drinking water instead of more alcohol.

"yeah, i'm sure. don't worry," the hockey player beamed up at her. his smile was hard to ignore knowing he was being serious, so samy returned it.

"okay, as long as you're sure. i'll say bye to luke," the younger girl caught sight of her brother a few tables down.

the middle hughes saw his sister walking towards him, smiling a bit, "what's up little hughesy?" poor samy would never escape that nickname, especially whenever she was around her brothers since they were always "hughesy" before her.

"will and i are gonna leave. just wanted to let you know," the girl told the older boy.

"leaving already?" cole wondered from beside luke.

"yeah, i think those rounds of shots did me in," samy chuckled lightly.

"i can tell. your cheeks always get red whenever you have a lot of alcohol," luke quickly squeezed samy's cheeks which instantly made her pull back.

"shut up. you're the same," the girl poked her brother's flushed cheeks. he just rolled his eyes while the others laughed.

"have fun back at the hotel. don't be too loud," trevor teased earning an eye roll from samy and a gagging motion from luke.

"god, do not say that shit around me about my sister. gross. text me when you get back," luke shook his head in disgust.

"you're such a baby. see you," samy pinched her brother's arm before finding her way back to will who finished paying their tab.

"ready?" the blonde hooked his arm around samy's waist again. the girl nodded, so the two hurried out before anyone could stop them and drag them back in.

the city slowed down once night hit besides the few cabs driving through the streets and people wandering back home from the bars much like samy and will were doing. prague was so beautiful at night, too. the girl's gaze was glued to the buildings with incredible architecture that reached into the sky.

"i could stay here forever," samy mumbled.

"you and me both," will hummed, his hand going to intertwine with samy's

"do you ever wish you could stay in the countries you travel to forever?" the youngest hughes' gaze fell on her boyfriend. from the side he was stunning. his curls started growing back out after his last haircut and his entire face in general was just to die for.

"yeah, sometimes. i wish we'd get more time to explore," will's own gaze flicked across the impressive buildings and night sky.

"i don't know if i've said this, but i really like traveling with you. it's really fun and it's been super awesome cheering you and my brother on," samy felt will's hold tighten on her hand. he met her gaze with a smile, stopping them on the sidewalk for a moment.

"i'm really glad you're here. it means a lot that you came out and i hope we can continue doing this," the two exchanged warm smiles before their lips were on each other's seconds later.

will's told tightened on samy's hips as their kiss deepened. the streets of prague were practically empty, so the couple used that by their advantage to kiss under the starts as cheesy as it all sounded. samy's fingers tugged at the curls on the back of will's head making him kiss her even harder. they practically lost themselves in one another.

"you're so beautiful," will mumbled when they finally pulled apart for air.

"i love you," samy hummed earning a large smile from her boyfriend.

"i love you more," the blonde placed one more kiss to her lips before making them continue walking to the hotel.

the rest of their walk was spent in comfortable silence. the two gently swung their connected hands back and forth until reaching the hotel. the front desk nodded to them as will dug out his key card to take them to their floor.

once will kicked their door open, samy stumbled in. she tore her heels off, falling back onto the bed with a happy smile painting her lips. the blonde chuckled seeing her sprawled out across the bed, quickly plopping down beside her as the two began staring at the ceiling. 

"be honest with me. are you signing when we get back?" samy wondered because she saw the news headlines and all the circulation about will, gabe, and ryan possibly signing. the couple hadn't talked much about it since they lost the ncaa finals as will kept it pretty sparse around her and everyone else. 

because of samy's slightly intoxicated state, she didn't pick up on the hesitation in her boyfriend's face nor the way the smile faded from his lips. she just assumed he didn't hear her or something. 

"i'm not sure," his answer finally came. 

"i feel like there's so much speculation going around. i mean, i'd be happy for you either way," the girl shrugged, a light smile tugging on her lips still. 

she missed will's hesitation again because he just rolled over so he was on his side and samy met his gaze. "i know you'd be happy for me either way. i think you're my number 1 supporter," the boy chuckled. 

"well, after your family, i hope i'd be. have i ever missed any of your games when you were close to or in michigan?" the brunette raised her eyebrow. 

will's smile faltered a bit, but again, samy didn't notice. her hand reached up to caress the boy's cheek as he leaned into her soft touch before kissing the inside of her palm. his gesture had samy giggling before pulling him into a real kiss against her lips. she fell back against the bed again as the hockey player sort of hovered above her so he wasn't completely crushing her with all of his body weight. 

the two continued making out until will pulled away knowing it was late and samy was intoxicated so they couldn't take it further. she pouted though when his lips left hers, "why'd you stop?" 

"it's late, we should go to bed. i got practice in the morning," the blonde chuckled. 

"when has that ever stopped you?" the girl teased some making will blush. 

"maybe when you're not drunk, yeah?" he grinned, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek instead. 

"fine," the boy rolled off of her back onto his feet where he reached his hands out to help her back up. 

the couple exchanged warm smiles before samy started towards the bathroom to wipe her makeup off and get ready for bed. fifteen minutes later, they were ready for bed in their pajamas or in will's case, pajama pants and no shirt. samy flicked the lights off before crawling into his side, snuggling into her boyfriend's extended arm. 

"i love you, sleep well," samy hummed into the boy's chest. he smiled even though she couldn't see it. 

"i love you, too," he placed one last kiss to the top of her head and then quickly knocked out for the night, soft snores filling the hotel room. 

[sparrowrye]

The Archivist's Oath || Chapter 20: results

Summary: Alastor finds an archivist who can translate Old World texts. Equally bound to their duty, reader and Alastor traverse the tricky landscape of love and commitment…but to whom and to what?

Chapter Synopsis: We see the results of our work, Alastor has more internal battles, and a new threat arises

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I stared out at the ravine full of broken branches and torn roots. Parts of the ravine wall had crumbled away, covering the floor in sharp, jagged rocks and the plots of farmland were completely gone, their soil now coating the ground. It was a mess.

People had crawled out of their deep caves to start the clean up. The next storm was coming tomorrow but the more they cleaned up in between storms, the less they had to do and the easier it was to clean at the end of the season. Women were sawing away at branches while the men lifted heavy rocks to make a path for carts to come through.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Rosie asked, stepping up beside me.

My shoulders sagged further. "It didn't work."

The words added another layer of weight just from speaking them. I had never been good at handling failure. Usually I would get recklessly angry, but this time all I could feel was disappointment and an entire lack of motivation to do anything.

"Didn't work? Didn't work?" Rosie came around to stand in front of me. "This is the least amount of damage we've ever experienced."

"But the trees and the farmland...they're all—"

"Better than any previous Storm Seasons," she interrupted, bending down to be level with my eyes. "The farmland always gets washed away. Our walls are constantly crumbling. And yes, there's branches all over the ground but this is so little compared to years past, dearie."

"You saw the Middle District on the way here. This is nothing," Husker supplied from behind. His hands were in his pockets and he wore his usual scowl. I had seen the damage of the Middle District. The houses were all wrecked like a tornado had swept through. There was barely anything left.

Alastor had been standing at the edge of our viewpoint, surveying the damage. His bright red coat contrasted the gray atmosphere. He kept his back to me as he said, "You haven't experienced Storm Season before."

"That's right," Rosie agreed and put a hand on my shoulder. "You haven't seen what a normal Storm Season looks like. Trust us when we say this is the best kind of damage we've seen in ages."

I surveyed the destruction in the ravine, but it still looked anything but a success.

"So now what?" I asked. I knew I was struggling to hide my disappointment.

"Now we rinse and repeat." Everyone turned at the sound of Lucifer Morningstar's voice.

The short ruler was flanked by his cheerful bright-eyed daughter, his cane tapping on the stone as loudly as his heeled boots. He came right up to me and my neck sent a silent Thank You to him for being the same height as me.

"You are the catalyst for something great," he said with a grand gesture. I'm sure it was meant as a compliment, and I originally took it as one, but the rational side of me remembered I was helping a dangerous city.

No. The city wasn't dangerous. It was just a collection of people trying to survive. Their leaders were the ones taking over smaller communities. Everyone else was just trying to live. I was saving their lives, wasn't I? I was saving humanity, right?

"The wind shields are a huge improvement!" Charlie stepped forward, her grin as wide as ever, and moved like her father with wide gestures. "The Middle District is a mess but it always is. Everywhere else is so much better!"

I picked at one of my nails. "The shields are working?"

"Yep! They're going to be even safer the more we improve them," Charlie went on. I noticed her father watching her with an approving smile. "Vox is already making improvements and fixing the ones that are broken."

I tensed at the mention of his name but, fortunately, no one seemed to notice. No one except Alastor. He saw the stillness in my hands and the tension in my shoulders.

"What kind of improvements?" I pushed out.

"I'm not sure," Charlie answered. "But he said he's experimenting with ways to protect the Middle District better."

I eased at the response. I didn't like the idea of Vox meddling with a project of mine, nor being close to the Agriculture District, but if he was experimenting with a desolate and unpopulated district, then I had no reason to worry. I wouldn't have to worry about him unless I was moving between Districts, and even then I had Alastor or Husker with me.

Lucifer cleared his throat. "Make any changes you need here. When you think you've got a good enough plan, we'll do the same to all the other districts."

I baulked at the sudden authority over a serious project. My plan was originally meant to 'brace' Rosie's district in a way of saying Thank You to her for her kindness. I had expected, but hadn't really accepted, the idea that my work would be used for the rest of the city.

This was actually happening.

"Lucifer." Alastor stepped forward to lean down in the king's ear, "a word."

Lucifer glared up at him and was ready to snap back, but Alastor had already stepped away. Charlie continued to talk to you and Rosie about the new plans as he followed the Radio Demon.

"What is it?" Lucifer demanded once they were far enough away, arms crossed.

Alastor rested his hands on his cane and sneered down at the smaller man. "I expect not to be pulled into meetings regarding her work anymore."

Lucifer scoffed at the second command. "You most certainly will be pulled. Just because she does better work with you doesn't mean you get free rein of her assignments."

Alastor wasn't bothered. "It stands to show that she does exceptional work with a goal she's passionate about, as well as when she's finessed and not maimed."

Lucifer winced at the reminder. "Regardless of what happened, Storm Season is just one of our many problems. If we're being brutally honest—"

"Then everyone should be bowing to me," Alastor interrupted. "Coaxing a suicidal Archivist into working again is not an easy feat."

Lucifer's lips pulled up into a devilish grin. "My sources tell me Rosie is to thank, not you."

"She deserves credit, of course," Alastor replied smoothly, despite the sting to his ego. "But the dynamic between me and our lovely Archivist is also to thank. I found, delivered, saved, and convinced her to work in our favor. Truly I am a man of great magic."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Once Storm Season is over, you're getting pulled into a meeting about what we need to take care of next."Alastor's lips curled into a snarl but before he could say anything else, Lucifer continued, "And since you're so 'full of magic' you can convince her to translate this."

A swirl of gold pulled Alastor's hand into an upright position. A flimsy book appeared in his palm, one that Alastor instantly recognized. His red eyes found Lucifer's hard stare, a stare that dared Alastor to push his luck and place on the food chain.

{|}

Alastor asked me again to join him in the living room. I decided to do a show of good faith and bring down a book to translate. He noticed, of course, but said nothing. I kept the book open on the couch cushion beside me and my translation notepad in my lap. It took only a few minutes to feel comfortable and I breezed through my translation better than ever before.

Tonight Alastor wore a simple red long sleeve with pale red lines. It mimicked his coat but the small, white collar that was undone by at least two buttons made it causal enough. Every now and then I caught a glimpse of his chest fur poking through.

I could still remember what his chest looked like during and after his injury. I could see the blood staining his clothes and clumping his fur together. I could also remember the softness of it after I had changed his bandages.

My mind then drifted to the day he bathed at the stream. His fur had been pressed to his body with water, dripping off him like a wet animal. Well, he had been a wet animal. He had looked anything but the well-composed, cruel, and terrifying Radio Demon.

Then I remembered when he asked me to help wash his hair. My cheeks burned and—

Bright light flashed in the room followed by a large clap of thunder. My body froze, muscles braced, then eventually eased down when there was no sign of danger. The fire continued to crackle, emitting warmth to fight off the cold draft that sneaked in. The temperatures had dropped significantly this time around.

Niffty had spent most of her time lying in front of the fire until she dozed off. Alastor attempted to coax her into going to bed, but when she didn't comply and fell into a deep sleep, he gently lifted her off the carpet and carried her upstairs. My mouth nearly dropped open at the sight.

Another bright flash and crackle of thunder. The storm was worse this time around. The wind shrieked on the other side of the stone walls, thunder shook the floors and shelves, and lightning was frequent. I was too ramped up to focus on my work anymore, so I sighed heavily and flopped on the floor like I used to do in my bunk.

I shifted closer to the fire as another clap of thunder shook the tower. Storms at the bunker were never this bad.

"Have you finally achieved boredom?" Alastor asked as he came down the stairs.

I quickly sat up. "You say that as if I'm incapable of being bored."

He practically glided to his chair with his long legs and I shifted around to keep him in view. "You lived in that bunker without going insane. You must be invincible to boredom."

I smiled despite myself. "That must be why I'm still alive then," I met his eyes, "after knowing you for so long."

He scoffed, clearly not insulted, and crossed his legs. "I find myself rather entertaining. Your work, however, meets the criteria." He reached for his glasses and book. The gentle smile on his lips spoke volumes.

I remained were I was for a few moments, debating with myself, before finally stretching out again. I stared at the ceiling and clasped my hands together over my stomach. I drew in a slow, deep sigh. "You were the first time I didn't feel bored."

Silence hung between us.

I dared a glance in his direction to see if he was annoyed by the comment. The only expression I got was a blank stare. I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad sign, so I looked back at the ceiling and wrung my hands. "Sorry," I mumbled.

In a way, I had gotten my wish for a more entertaining life, albeit a very challenging and scary one. And painful. Alastor had promised to show me more of the world. It wasn't in a way I liked, but there were moments when it looked like he was trying—really trying. Maybe things would turn out okay.

Alastor watched you from his chair. He had gone very still, stuck in decision paralysis. He wanted to lay beside me, to touch my skin again, to watch me give in to his touch rather than flinch away. Ever since Vox, Alastor wanted nothing more than to make you seek him for shelter. But the cavern between the two of you felt far too wide.

You were the first time I ever felt calm, he wanted to say in return. Why he kept quiet, he'll never know. Perhaps because it was easy to be open around you, and that fact unnerved him. You had very little magic yet could pull out a forbidden side of him with ease.

He lifted his hand to his lips, pressing the cool tips of his claws to his cheek. The memory of your first kiss had chased him in his dreams for weeks after you had banished him. They had subsided when he brought you here, but now? Now it was something he couldn't stop thinking about. It didn't help that it had been the first kiss he initiated; the first one he had actually wanted.

Your eyes found his again and his chest tightened. He wanted to lay beside you like that night on the rooftop. He wanted to feel your hands running through his hair, firm but gentle, and with all the care in the world. He wanted to feel the heat of your words when you were pushed too far. He wanted those gorgeous eyes on him at all times, your focus on nothing and no one else other than him. He wanted to pin you to the floor and have another kiss just so he could feel the buzz of electricity that zipped under his skin.

There were a lot of things he wanted but couldn't have. Acting on any of those wants would damage the weak bond he had managed to piece back together with you. He always had a plan. He always knew what to do and when to do it. He always knew.

And yet, he could do nothing but sit in that chair with your eyes on him and his hand over his mouth.

{|}

The storm eased up the following day. The inside of Alastor's tower remained the same—dark, gloomy, and moist. The air felt thick and I worried the books would be damaged, though there was nothing I could do about it.

After translating a few more pages of the plumbing and electricity texts, I finally wandered downstairs. Niffty was on the couch crocheting something—probably a bug—and Alastor was in his usual spot near the fire and his radio. He wore a dark long sleeve, halfway between black and navy, and his bright eyes were already glancing towards the stairs as I came down.

How the hell was he not sweating?

"Wonderful of you to join us," he greeted. I nodded and quietly went to his bookshelf for the novel I had been previously reading, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. Niffty showed me her crochet project—indeed it was a bug, a cockroach no less—and let me sit beside her.

I tucked my legs up and leaned against the armrest as I began to read. The silence was comforting—the crackle of the fire and hum of radio static were the only things that permeated the peace; aside from the constant rain just beyond the walls. I recalled the long winter nights with my family in the bunker, huddling around a small clay pot and candle, and playing several rounds of card games.

When my brother left it was just me, my mother, and my grandmother. We handled everything just fine by ourselves, but my brother had left a hallow, quiet, irreplaceable hole that was felt by all of us.

Once my grandmother passed away, things took a nosedive from there. My mother couldn't do much of the heavy lifting chores anymore and she spent most of her time sleeping away the hours of the day. I felt her grief as heavy as my own and it nearly crushed me had I not been too busy trying to keep us alive. She stopped translating altogether after she began making too many mistakes, ones I was fortunate enough to catch.

It wasn't long after my grandmother's passing that my mother became ill. I watched as my mother succumbed to her grief. She stopped cooking and could barely make it from her bed to the couch without running out of breath. And when I tried to play cards with her on rainy days, she couldn't concentrate. She would slip in and out of sleep until one day, she didn't wake up.

I spent a week trying to dig her grave. My crying and screaming got in the way, and my usual chores were just as demanding, somehow more so. For that entire week I kept her body wrapped in a blanket on the couch. Once I had finished her grave, right beside my grandmother and her mother, I carefully lowered my mother's body into the grave. It was raining that day.

Niffty suddenly shifted off the couch and it pulled me back to reality. I took a deep breath and my throat loosened as I remembered where I was, the ambience of the tower filling my ears once again. As confusing as Alastor's presence was, I wasn't physically alone anymore.

Niffty scurried into the kitchen to make a light snack for lunch. Alastor let out a heavy sigh then removed his glasses and placed his work on the side table. He stood to his full height and stretched out his long arms, giving me a chance to run my eyes along the muscles pushing against the dark fabric.

"Would you care for anything?" he asked, meeting my eyes as a blush surfaced to my cheeks. I looked away.

"Sure."

I waited until he walked into the kitchen before sagging against the cushions. Things weren't as tense as they were before, but the awkwardness seemed to follow me everywhere I went. Did he feel it too? Probably not.

I stood up and stretched out my arms and legs, and twisted my torso in an effort to relieve my usual back pain. I glanced at Alastor's chair, at the indent in the cushion from his weight. His leather-bound journal was filled with various papers and his round glasses sat atop it. What was even on those papers? What did he spend all his time reading?

I wandered closer, nervously checking around the corner in the kitchen. Would Alastor be bothered? Would he get mad at me for not asking him instead? Would he answer truthfully if I asked what his notes were about?

I figured a small glance couldn't hurt. I carefully pulled one of the pages further out and felt my hands go cold. It was Old English.

I pulled it out the rest of the way and examined the note. It was plain and simple and written in his handwriting. Where did he read this? Did he know what it meant? Has he been trying to decipher my translations and learn how to translate himself? Was that even possible?

Footsteps came up behind me. I turned, bracing myself, and looked up to meet his eyes. They blinked back at me. "I see you found something."

I gripped the note tighter. "Wha—what is this?"

He stepped past me and lowered a plate of bread and cheese on the side table near the couch. "A White Angel prisoner carved it into the floor of her cell." He moved back to his chair and I stepped out of his way. "So I copied it down."

I glanced at the paper, then back at him. "Were you going to ask me to translate this?"

He tilted his head slightly, the dawn of a question on the tip of his tongue, but then he suddenly closed it, eyes widening. "You can read it."

I nodded and looked at the paper again. "It's Old World language. Old English," I explained. The handwriting was crude and clearly a copy of someone else's writing, but unmistakably Alastor's.

Now he was leaning forward in his chair. "Can you tell me what it says?"

His sudden interest sent a prickle of fear along my skin. I felt compelled to deny him, but then remembered this paper wasn't from my archive. I could technically freely translate this. And considering what the paper said, I felt he most certainly should know.

"It says: When the waves are calm, more will come."

Alastor stared at me for several moments, lost in his own mind.

"It could be a warning," I suggested.

He rubbed his chin. "Or a threat."

I read the note to myself again. "Do you think they meant literal waves?"

"Perhaps."

Feeling comfortable enough, I moved closer to him to put the note back on his side table. He watched me intensely as I did, though I avoided his eyes. They were as hot as the fire on my back.

"Do you think..." he began gently, making me stop in front of him. "...that you might be able to translate what the angel says?"

My mind was split. One half of me wondered if it was possible to translate something other than text, while the other half realized that I might be used in an interrogation if I could. Another tool.

"I...I'm not sure." I shifted uncomfortably and glanced into the small fire. It burned away the mist that clouded the room but made my clothes stick to my arms with sweat. "I've never tried," I murmured.

Alastor gestured towards the couch. "Consider it. We have plenty of time thanks to this storm."

His offer gave me an out and I took it, settling on the couch and pulling the book into my lap. But I couldn't focus. The note still burned in my thoughts and I silently repeated the phrase over and over again.

Was it a threat? More had to mean more White Angels. That much was obvious. But the waves didn't make sense. Was it used in a literal sense? A metaphor for chaos? Waves of people? Storm waves? Ocean waves?

Then it hit me like a lightning bolt.

I stood suddenly, clutching the small book to my stomach.

"The coast."

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

Author's Note:

You're getting a juicy chapter next week :P

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

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@drevisrose @until-thedaysof-spring @torustesseract @sirens-and-moonflowers @papas-ghoulette @eris-norwega

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[sxveme-2]

Dance With Me Tonight // Bucky Barnes

MASTERLIST

DESCRIPTION:

"ᴀ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴇ ɪꜱ ᴍɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴍ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴀꜰʀᴀɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴᴅ ɪᴛ."

After you lose the beat in your heart, what happens next? What happens when your heart is splintered in two, and no one in the world can put it back together now that the only person who could have is dead? Can life go on? Can a person keep living when their lungs' breath is stolen?

Ninety years ago, Clara Phillips lost the very light in her eyes. The gentle girl began to rot from the inside out, corroding in on herself until all she spat was venom from the forked tongue of a snake. HYDRA stole the girl away from the small slice of solace she had secluded herself to and turned her into their own personal snake in the grass—their Black Mamba. Brainwashed and tortured beyond recognition, Clara took on the mantle of Anastasia—HYDRA’s secret weapon and the Winter Soldier’s knife in his back pocket.

Only when HYDRA falls does a girl with a broken mind and a destroyed spirit escape. Not Clara, not Anastasia, but someone else. A girl with a ruptured mind searching for small pieces of herself to put back together—all while her heart ached and pulsed for a singular man that her now broken mind did not know.

Follow Clara as she stumbles through the world around her, searching for a man, or myth, that could sew the torn stitches of her heart back together again.

DISCLAIMER: My works are only published here on Wattpad, Tumblr and AO3; thank you!I do not own any original characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Studios and Marvel Comics. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else. This work handles mature things such as nudity, sexual content, emotional distress and trauma. Do not read if you are not comfortable with these. I am not responsible for your media consumption and what you choose to read. This fanfiction is semi-canon compliant; there will be a deterrence in certain points to fit the story.

STATUS: Unedited

Chapter Two

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol and PTSD

Word Count: 3279

May 16th, 1936

Mary and I got ice cream today after school, and I kept swearing to her that Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were following us the entire time. Every time I looked over my shoulder, the two would conveniently be looking at something the opposite way. One day, I'm going to tune them up for it, tell them how creepy it is to follow two girls around after school. Most girls in my grade would be fawning over Bucky following them, and don't get me wrong, I agree. If I had the guts at all, I myself might've let myself dream he wanted to be around me.

She said I should be lucky. That I should be overjoyed that he would want to spend time with me in any capacity, ever since he rejected Cindy Porter's invitation to the prom. Rumour had it that he planned to ask another girl, but I knew he would probably just go with Steve. Their friendship is cute, and it reminds me of Mary and me, in a way, but it is reversed. She's always so peppy and charming. Everyone loves Mary Taluse, myself included, but I can't find myself enjoying the company of people the way she does.

Honestly, I think that Bucky wanted to see her in reality. Everyone stops to look at Mary, with her brilliant gold curls and tabloid-winning smile. She's perfect in my eyes, and I'm just glad she keeps me around.

"Mind if Steve and I buy you two ladies a scoop?" Bucky cooed with his signature tone, a cool melody that had both Clara and Mary look up from their conversation.

"Oh, I've got my own money, but thanks," Clara hummed, dropping her eyes from his as heat rushed to her cheeks. If she were honest, she'd had a crush on Bucky since the second grade—but like hell she'd ever admit that to anyone aloud, "I've got enough for Mary's too."

"Dad up your allowance, Little Miss Crown Heights?" Bucky teased, foot poking forward to nudge at the Mary-Janes she wore. He would not be getting her attention.

"Watched my neighbour's baby actually," Clara retorted, lifting her head to give the taller boy a sly look, "I get my money by honest means, Bucky."

"Well then, maybe you'll be on the front lines with the suffragists," he continued on, his smile leaving her cheeks warm once more as she fumbled with her change purse, "C'mon, Clara, just let me—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Clara and Mary were twisting around the two boys towards the front. Clara knew he meant well, that there was nothing negative about his offer, but she had a soft spot regarding these things. Ever since her mother passed, she always wanted to show people that there wasn't any need for pity—she was fine, and she would continue to be okay, even without the guidance of her mom.

—

"This is a really stupid idea," she muttered, readjusting a few strands of hair while admiring her appearance in the mirror, "Throwing me to the wolves right now. Absolutely ridiculous."

The time was 2015, and Nick Fury had the brilliant idea to get 'Helena Howlett' in the room with the Avengers—as his spy. After all, the man could never trust anyone fully, let alone a bunch of jacked up superheroes. Her job was to watch, learn, convince them she was just another wealthy socialite with the right connections to get into the room. They were banking on the fact that Steve wouldn't pay her too much attention, or that she was smart enough to avoid his gaze.

Clara kept the blonde for years, deciding it changed her features enough that it would be harder to place her as a woman from a different period of time. She had it roughly curled tonight, leaving it down in case she needed to make a quick exit from the Star Spangled Man with a plan. The outfit though—Lord did she have a bone to pick with Maria Hill for choosing such a dress. Hill was the only other person in the world to know Clara's true identity, and thankfully, she would be able to keep her close enough that Steve wouldn't come sniffing.

The dress was something that the 1940's dame in her squirmed in, feeling it huge all the wrong places for her and all the right places for onlookers. It was a dark navy black velvet that reached her knees, lace trim at the bottom and along the edges of the sweetheart neckline that dipped just too low for her comfort. It had straps that cut across her shoulders and tied behind her neck, where a small mic recorder hid for Fury's reconnaissance.

"They're all going to be too busy with their conquest of the evening or whatever alcohol Tony is serving to even notice you," Hill sighed, whacking Clara's hand, "So, I recommend Helena stops fussing with her appearance before someone thinks you're on something."

Clara glared at the agent before stilling her movements, "I'm sorry. I just...I haven't seen Steve in seventy years. I know I'm not here for him, but still...You can't blame me for having emotions about it."

"Wow, it's almost like you're a real human being and not just a spy. What's happened to you?" Hill teased, earning a grin and a small chuckle from the blonde.

When the elevator to Stark's penthouse opened and the sound of modern music and laughter filled Clara's ears, the agent in her immediately turned on. She steeled her gaze and gave Hill a curt nod before trotting her way into the party, making quick note of where Steve stood. She hesitated for a split second—barely even—watching as he confidently laughed with men that were like Gods to the mortals of Earth. He had a smile that outlasted time, and Clara felt like a sixteen year old girl back at the ice cream shop again.

He was always so kind, so caring—he walked with her to class before he had to leave school and would always offer to buy her a soda before Bucky swooped in for her attention. Clara adored Steve, and seeing him now—it didn't feel real. None of this did anymore, she felt like a woman living on borrowed time.

"Yours is a face I don't recall seeing often," a suave voice cooed from a few feet in front of her. If she hadn't known any better, Clara might have believed it to be that of her old comrade, Howard Stark. Instead, her eyes lifted to meet a slightly different twinkle, but the same spark.

"Call me a fan," Clara hummed, a British accent slipping into her words to further mask her identity, "A girl hears of her friends getting invited to a Stark party, who am I to pass up on the plus one invitation?"

"While having fans is lovely, how about a name instead?" Tony quipped, "Call it security."

"Helena," she answered quickly, "Helena Howlett. Need an ID too?"

"No need," Tony hummed, a knowing eyebrow lift setting her heart to double speed. If she gets exposed tonight, Fury might just have her head—and she his, "It's just rare for HYDRA agents to manage their way into my parties."

Clara gripped at her purse before Tony's hand clamped onto her wrist. Silence fell over the two as both struggled for the upper-hand. Both knew she could have him dead within seconds, but that would expose her, and would lead to the Avengers versus a previously HYDRA employed assassin who had been missing for nearly five years. Tony was just as much of a security risk at his own party right now as she was, the difference is, he had an army behind him—all she had was HYDRA hijacking and a killer punch.

"Who sent you?" He hissed, eyes scanning the room as they both took a few steps away from the crowd, "What is the Black Mamba doing out of retirement?"

Clara twitched her neck at the name. Her call-name to those outside of HYDRA was something that she had despised ever since she managed to slip away when her hijacking went rogue on a mission five years prior. Someone had yelled it and it clicked that that was her—while to those in HYDRA, she was their beautiful Anastasia. To Tony Stark though? She was the infamous covert killer and Russian conwoman who garnered HYDRA the most foothold it had ever had. Clara hoped he had enough sense to know if she was here on a take-down mission, she wouldn't have been stupid enough to walk through the front door.

"I don't work like that anymore," she insisted, wide eyes pleading with his, "Therapy works wonders, clearly."

"Oh no? So, you're not going to snake-out on me tonight?" He challenged, head tilted, "Answer the question, Howlett. Or is it Phillips?"

Clara pushed the man into the hall with a swift shove, barely feeling it as her muscles worked. Her arm pressed into his throat and the gun she concealed in her purse was quickly pressed to his stomach. The super-soldier serum HYDRA had pumped into her veins coursed through her body and he could feel it with the pressure she applied to his throat. The stand-off began to tip toe on deadly, and she had to regain her composure before it went too far.

Uncocking her gun and slipping it back into her purse, Clara took a few steps back from the billionaire. As a HYDRA agent, Clara too had trigger words similar to the Winter Soldier, but nothing set her off more than the reminder of the life that was stripped from her. HYDRA had taken everything from her—her life, her husband, her child, the love of her life. She had everything stolen from her in the blink of an eye, and anytime someone reminded her of that, it was like she was back in that chair, feeling her brain scorch itself of any humanity.

Raising her hands in innocence, she spoke, "Listen. I'm not here to cause trouble. I've been sent to watch, that's all. I can't go near Rogers, he'll recognize me instantly. I'm assuming you did a facial scan of everyone who entered the building."

"Well yes, throwing a party as an Avenger isn't exactly the day to turn off security protocols," Tony admitted, readjusting his suit, "I'll ask you again, Helen. Who sent you?"

"It's Helena. And you know him, and you know he won't cause you any issues unless you cause them first," she hinted, readjusting her dress, "You know, you look just like your father."

"Oh, did you know one another?" Tony remarked, sarcasm dripping from his tone, "Had no idea that he was so close with everyone that HYDRA seemed to be such fans of."

"I wasn't taken because of him," Clara mumbled, fidgeting with the bottoms of her dress, "Truthfully, I don't know why I was. But pardon me if I don't feel like exhuming the past with you, Stark. Have a lovely night. It's a beautiful penthouse."

Clara was quick to make her exit from his line of sight, catching Maria's eyes following her. She gave a quick nod of reassurance. Her feet were quick to trot up the stairs to the second floor where she would be able to have the best vantage point. She needed to be able to see everything, hear everything. With each step she had taken since leaving stark, she dropped tiny mic patches that would pick up the voices of those around her. It was information overload, but she would have to sort through it all later.

Her only job now was to make it through the party without being exposed as a war nurse from the 1940's, and avoid being face to face with Steve Rogers long enough for him to realize who she was. It sounded easy enough, but a sneaking feeling in her stomach knew that nothing ever went her way like that. Something was bound to go wrong, it was only a matter of time.

—

After what felt like hours of mindless conversations that often ended abruptly, the party finally began to dwindle. Clara's feet ached from the heels she wore and the way that the dress she wore itched around the chest. Everything about the night had gone surprisingly calmly—she had managed to subvert Steve, and his buddy Sam, and keep cordial with everyone who approached her. Having to fake a British accent made it easier, and it seemed no one was sober enough to put together who she was.

That, or no one knew their history deep enough to realize the significance of her presence.

Deeming it safe enough, Clara abandoned her post and wandered out towards the balcony of the penthouse. The group of Avengers and the last few partiers hadn't realized they had a straggler so she was relatively safe to take a few moments to stare out at the New York City landscape this vantage point gave her. Clara's heart clenched like a fist as she stared out at the brilliant lights of the city. She stared out towards Brooklyn, her mind showing fleeting images of memories she couldn't quite place.

"It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?" A voice hummed from behind her. Something cold struck down her spine—she knew that voice, even if she'd never heard it before.

Clara lifted her gaze and nearly lost the strength in her legs. Her knees felt like they were shaking, her stomach mimicking the feeling as the cocktails she had choked down to appear casual threatened to come back up. His eyes were too familiar, it felt like she was staring at a swapped reflection. His face was creased to show his age, but there was no mistaking it.

The image of a baby flashed into her brain, his coos filling her heart that now felt rotten. The sounds of her voice got caught in her throat, her mouth open and closed like a fish out of water. This wasn't in her plan, this wasn't what was supposed to happen tonight. Nothing that her and Nick Fury had thought about even considered that he would be here.

"It is," she whispers, her voice nearly failing her, "There's nothing like it."

It seemed even he was caught off guard, his knowing eyes scanning her face, trying to place it. Lifting his drink to his lips, he tests the liquid with his lips. There's a beat of silence, a beat of knowing between them that neither is willing to explore.

"Do I know you?" James Daniels asks, pointing quickly before leaning against the railing.

"Me?" She scoffed, shaking her head, "No, I don't think so. I just have that sort of face, I think. I have been mistaken for Anne Hatheway a few times before."

"Right...What's your name?"

"Helena. Helena Howlett."

"James Daniels," he introduced, nodding and taking a few steps away from the woman, "It was nice meeting you Helena, I have to get home to my daughter."

As he walked off, the pit that sat heavy in her stomach dissipated, and her throat seemed to unclog itself of whatever was hoping to run free from her lips. It felt surreal, as though she was letting a part of herself walk away without a fight. Maybe she should have told him, and should have admitted to him who she was behind the mask. She could've found some convoluted way to explain what happened, where she went—why she wasn't there to raise him.

But she knew it wouldn't have worked. He would've thought she was insane—some crazy history fanatic who used her facial likeness to Clara Phillips as a way to convince people she was the stolen woman from the 40s. Whatever explanation she could've come up with would have made the situation even worse. Only then did it hit her what his final words were—he had a daughter. There was a little girl out there who would one day have to hear the reality of who her grandma was, and what happened to her.

Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he didn't read the files that Black Widow released about her. Perhaps one day, when things didn't seem so impossible, and she had more of her mind back—Clara would go back and be a mother to that man, and become a grandma to whoever that little girl is.

Time wasn't on her side now, though, as the sound of yelling caught her attention. The agent in her was activated once more and Clara ran through the doors to the penthouse, only to nearly be taken out by a flying shield of vibranium. She caught her breath in her throat and pulled her pistol out, shooting at one of the robots that flew towards her. The fact she would be seen by all those she tried to avoid fled her mind as robots now tried to kill her.

She grabbed the shield that lodged itself into the wall beside her and threw it back at the Captain, using the railing of the inner balcony as leverage to vault herself onto one of the robots. She cursed at the tightness of the dress before lodging a knife into the exposed chords of the mechanical corpse, ducking in a flip onto the bar and throwing another knife at a second robot. Only when Thor threw his hammer at this "Ultron" character, did Clara realize whose eyes burned into her skull.

"Clara?"

The blonde lifted her attention towards the sound of Steve's voice. While the others seemed focused on the robots, his startling blue eyes only sought her. The woman stepped down from the bar and dusted the debris from her body, sliding the pistol back into her purse.

"I think you have more pressing matters at hand than my identity, Captain."

—

Clara paced back and forth in the kitchen of her small Brooklyn apartment, biting her lip and fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. He would find her, it was only a matter of time. She should've told Fury no, she shouldn't have agreed to go to that party. She wanted to go find Bucky, to help him and free him of the everlasting consequences of being indoctrinated into HYDRA unwillingly. Fury had promised her the time would come, that she would be able to help Bucky by doing these things for him.

He said she'd be making the world a safer one for him to walk back into. Right now, she wasn't sure that was true as she awaited Captain America's inevitable descent into her life. It was only a matter of time before—Knock Knock Knock.

Clara let out a deep breath before grabbing the small pistol she kept taped under her table, cocking it behind her back as she creeped towards the door. The floor creaked under her feet, and she peered through the eyehole to see his broad stance standing there in all its glory. She let out a tense sigh before unlocking the seven various locks on her door. Taking one last deep breath, she cracked the door open a few centimetres, keeping the gun at her side just in case he wasn't here under friendly circumstances.

"Clara? Or is it Helena? Or Eileen, maybe?"

Clara squeezed her eyes shut as tears threatened them before she fully opened the door, allowing him entry into the small slice of home she still had. He looked massive compared to the shoebox of an apartment she occupied. The air was tense, and he eyed the gun she kept gripped in her hand. Pursing her lips, she uncocked the gun and placed it on the table, raising her hands as a sign of innocence.

"So? Who am I talking to now?"

"Who would you like to be speaking to?" She questioned, defenses still up.

"The girl who punched Billy Vaughn for stealing my lunch in the first grade."

"Clara it is then...Have a seat, Steve. I fear we'll be here a while."

[ranposbabe]

The Blindfold Stays On!

pairing: von herder x fem!reader

summary: herder just likes to prove you wrong :(

warning: smut, unprotected sex!!!, herder himself is a warning tbh

“Who’s there ?” Herder calls out as he remains seated working on a gun Moran had once again broken.

“It’s me ! It’s y/n !” You reply, practically breathless as you walk down the steps that led you to the German engineer.

With his back turned to you, you couldn’t see the slight smirk upon his lips.

Of course he knew it was you. By now, Von knew what exactly your steps sounded like . He could tell the difference between everyone in the manors steps yet every time he asked for confirmation you would always assure him that it was you. He knew. He just liked how you forgot every time. It was a little joke of his.

“Ugh ! Von I’m so tired !” You groan, stretching out your arms to soothe the tightness you felt throughout your body.

As you walk straight over to where Von worked at his desk, you couldn’t help but peer over his shoulder to see what he was working on at such a late hour.

As you would of guessed. It was a weapon. “Ha ! You’re tired ?” Von blatantly laughed, continuing on with his work as if you weren’t even there.

“Louis sent me away !” You as Von would put it dramatically sigh, sitting down on the blond’s right knee despite there being a chair right beside him. “I thought Louis was doing paperwork upstairs so what exactly are you doing down here ?”

He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist while still continuing to work on the gun.

“He was and everyone else is busy so there’s nothing to do that’ll even wear me out since you don’t even think I’m tired !” You roll your eyes, noticing how Vons pace doesn’t become slower despite now only using one hand. However you weren’t surprised as Von was always skilled when it came to using his fingers.

“I know what will wear you out.” He whispers in your ear, his long fingers slightly digging into your side that makes you instantly rubbing your thighs together.

Despite the fact that he’s wearing the blindfold you could tell by the outlines it’s barely gave that his brows were raised when he spoke with such lust evident in his tone.

Suddenly, Herder swiftly pushed aside the tools left on his desk and in one motion he effortlessly shifted you onto the table before him. As he stood over you instinctively you wrapped your arm loosely around his shoulders as the blonds height was surely intimidating. As if he understood your next move he didn’t hesitate to then hoist you up and walk away from his station. “Von !” You gasp, your legs wrap around his waist as the material of your skirt natural begins to hike up. A smirk is upon Herders lip due to the sensation of your warm skin against his suit pants, his hands instantly are under your thighs messaging the shown. skin knowing that more was soon to be exposed.

Despite only walking for a short amount of time to make his way to his room it’s obvious that Von knows how to handle you even as he opens the door and lays you down onto the bed he has you clinging to him like you’re made of porcelain but with his confidence and skills your complete trust is in him. He knows how to care for your body. He knows every spot as if you were one of his inventions. His property.

As you laid down on the soft sheets you couldn’t help stare up at him as he stood

slowly but surely removing his blazer and unbuttoning his shirt as he knew your eyes would remain on him and him only. “Still tired ?” He asks with a hint of playfulness in his tone. “I think I have a bit of energy left.” You nod, somewhat distracting as your eyes roam over his figure as his alongside your clothes become discarded onto the floor. “You won’t after this.”

Herder uses his hands everyday so of course it would come to an advantage. It doesn’t take long until two of his long fingers are rather deep pumping inside your wet cunt. With only two fingers inside there was a part of you that hoped he wouldn’t add another as just his fingers alone were making you feel so full.

Of course that part of you died down rather quickly.

You practically almost hit your head off the headboard as Von inserts a third finger as you contemplate the fact whether you may rip in half due to not only the size of his fingers inside you but you swear you feel the sensation of him touching your cervix. Surely if his fingers didn’t you knew his cock definitely would.

As you whine at the lack of fullness due to Von removing his fingers, he’s rather quick to stop your whining as he cleans his fingers drenched in your arousal with his own tongue all the while shoving his fingers on the opposite hand right down your throat. When he pulls his fingers from your mouth with a definite pop sound, his thumb softly glides against your lips. He’s touched them many he knows just by the feeling of your soft lips what you’re feeling whether you’re content, upset or about to reach your climax. He knows the last one pretty well by now.

He knows your every teasing move and sure to do it right back if you go too far.

Even when your hand sneakily reaches up just to touch near his blindfold he’s too quick for you as he’s proven before as he catches your wrist and raises them above your head. You can only stare on in shock like a mouse being caught by a cat.

Herder reaches over to the nightstand and pulls out something from the draw.

That something being another blindfold which you funnily enough recognised as being the floral one he once used to trick Moran when the Colonel attempted to remove his blindfold. Von didn’t hesitate to loosely tie it around your own eyes. For the sake of feeling secure your arms instantly wrap around his waist as your others senses become more sensitive as you loose your sight.

“Perhaps another is needed for this frisky wrists of yours, darling.” At that Von gives you no warning as he deeply thrusts into you, already you could see the imprint of his cock inside of you practically kissing your cervix. “You have the solution to everything don’t you ?” You whine, desperately pressing kisses against his fine jaw until he finally gives in and kisses you back. The sudden darkness fills you with excitement as you know longer can even attempt to guess Herder’s next move. “When it comes to you.” He sighs, pulling away along with a string of saliva that belong to the both of you that intertwine. “Yes.” He whispers into your neck pressing open mouth kisses anywhere he could find.

Even when his thrusts begin to slow down you can’t help but lean your head back in pleasure squeezing your eyes shut despite it not making a difference since the blindfold remained around your eyes.

When your highs finally come Von is rather hesitate to pull out but when he does he moves to lay his head onto your chest.

The sound of your fast beating heart almost puts him to sleep. But before you could get used to the position and fall asleep yourself Von pulls away from you.

You hear the sound of a fabric being loosened but before you could figure out what exactly was happening Von removes your blindfold. Your eyes flutter momentarily before you stare upon the surprising sight before you.

He took off his own blindfold. With a smile on his face, his eyes that you fail to describe due to the unrealness of them stare down at you with such warmth and love. You simply smile back at those eyes that only you will ever get to see.

The familiar smirk reappears as he tosses both blindfolds onto the floor along with your now creased clothing.

“If you wanted to see my eyes all you had to do was ask.”

[bradleysass]

can you love me too? - @graverobbber - Soapbox - wc: 1.1k

Music Prompt: True Romance by She Wants Revenge.

It had started with Evan and Regulus.

Or more accurately, it had started when they ended.

James could still hear the conversation like it had been tattooed on the inside of his skull. "You don’t take things seriously, James." "You’re all flash and no substance." "Maybe I want someone who knows how to sit still."

Regulus had said it with that perfectly bored tone, all slanted eyes and cruel elegance, like James’ entire personality was a loud embarrassment. Then he'd walked away, into Evan Rosier’s waiting arms.

James had laughed it off.

And then he’d drunk himself sick.

Across the room, Barty had watched it all with a pinched expression and a wine glass he didn’t drink from. His jaw was clenched. His hand trembled. And when Evan kissed Regulus at the bar, Barty had thrown his glass against the wall.

And just like that—somewhere between the broken glass and the bruises neither of them talked about—they made a deal.

Fake it. Make them jealous. Break their smug little hearts.

James had agreed instantly. Because if there was one thing he hated more than being dumped, it was being replaced.

The first time they kissed was in front of Regulus and Evan at a brunch party for someone James didn’t know. They were in a sunlit courtyard, jazz in the background, champagne flutes clinking around them.

James didn’t see it coming.

One second, Barty was muttering about how Evan “always holds his fork like that when he’s smug.” The next, he yanked James by the collar and kissed him.

Hard. Messy. Possessive.

It tasted like fury and smoke and control.

When they broke apart, James couldn’t feel his legs.

Across the table, Evan had dropped his glass.

Regulus looked like he’d swallowed acid.

Barty smirked. “That should do.”

The weeks that followed were a blur of photo ops and whispered rumors. James and Barty were everywhere. Galas, gallery openings, Quidditch matches. They fed the tabloids like it was oxygen.

To everyone else, they looked wild and in love.

To James, it felt like falling from a great height with no parachute.

Because Barty was too convincing.

He brushed James’ hair back during interviews. He held his hand tightly, like it meant something. He whispered things that weren’t jokes—“Let me be enough to make him flinch.”—and James let himself believe it, just for a second.

Even though he knew it was all part of the performance.

Even though he knew Barty didn’t mean it.

He couldn’t help it. Somewhere between the second and third fake date, James had started to want it to be real.

And nothing was more dangerous than that.

The invitation to Crouch Sr.’s annual masquerade arrived in a black envelope with gold foil.

Barty read it and groaned. “My father’s pet social experiment. A thousand sycophants in masks and me, his unwilling heir.”

“You want me to come?”

“I want them all to see us.” Barty’s eyes glittered. “Evan will be there. So will your charming prince.”

James hated that his heart did a little leap at the idea of dancing with Barty in a mask. He hated that he’d already picked out what to wear.

The ballroom was made of gold.

Literally. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen fireworks, and the floor reflected every flicker of candlelight. People wore elaborate costumes—velvet and lace and feathers, laughter curling like smoke in the air.

James wore black and deep red. His mask was sharp and foxlike.

Barty looked like sin incarnate in navy blue, all clean lines and cool smirks. His hand found James’ waist the moment they entered the room.

“Ready to play your part?” he whispered.

James nodded.

It was a good lie.

The music started—soft and swelling. Classical strings.

Barty offered his hand with a flourish. “Dance with me, darling.”

James tried not to stare. “You’re really committing.”

“Oh, I always do.”

He pulled James into the center of the ballroom, fingers curling around his waist, other hand gripping his own. They moved in sync, gliding across the polished floor. It was practiced, effortless.

Dangerous.

Because Barty didn’t break character. He didn’t stop watching James like he was something beautiful and breakable. Like he mattered.

“Regulus is watching,” Barty said against his ear, breath warm. “He looks like he wants to murder me.”

James swallowed. “Good.”

“And Evan hasn’t blinked in two minutes.”

James laughed, soft and bitter. “Then mission accomplished.”

Barty spun him, and James forgot to breathe.

After the dance, they found a corner by the massive windows. Stars glittered over the city below.

James leaned against the glass, trying to cool the flush in his face. “I think I need a drink.”

Barty stepped closer instead. “You were good out there.”

“You make it easy to pretend.”

Something flickered in Barty’s eyes—gone too fast to name.

“Let’s give them a finale.”

James turned his head. “What?”

Before he could blink, Barty kissed him again. This time, it was slow. Like they had all the time in the world. Like there was no audience. No exes. No plan.

Just them.

James melted into it.

And for that one perfect second, he believed it.

When they pulled apart, cheers erupted from a group nearby. A photographer snapped their picture. Flashbulbs. Laughter.

James opened his mouth to say something—anything.

But Barty was already turning away. “That should hold them for a while.”

And just like that, the spell was broken.

James stood there alone, heart pounding in a body that suddenly felt foreign.

They left the party early.

The car ride home was silent.

James stared out the window, watching streetlights blur into streaks of gold.

Barty tapped a rhythm against his knee. Unbothered. Cool. Like none of this mattered.

When they pulled up to James’ flat, Barty leaned over and said, “You played your part well.”

James smiled. Hollow. “So did you.”

Barty looked at him for a long second. Then: “Night, Potter.”

James got out without another word.

Inside, in the dark, James collapsed onto the couch and finally let himself feel the weight of it.

The stupid, fragile hope.

The illusion of warmth.

The kiss that hadn’t meant anything.

Because he’d fallen for someone who didn’t care. Someone who used him like a sword. Someone who could kiss him like that and walk away without looking back.

But James wasn’t stupid.

He knew the rules.

So he closed his eyes and whispered to the empty room:

“Let them watch.”

Because if he couldn’t have the real thing, he could at least put on a good show.

And maybe—just maybe—Barty would watch, too.

[a-bit-of-writing]

Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's

Words: 598

Summary: The Pizzaplex is empty. Sun clings to the past, Moon prowls the dark, and the lights won’t stay on. All that’s left is a broken promise: “We’ll keep you safe.”

The Pizzaplex had once thrummed like a living carousel - music‑box melodies, shrieking delight, confetti snowing through colored beams.

Now its silence is so complete Sun can almost hear dust settling, grain by grain, on the chipped foam tiles. The daycare smells of stagnant chlorine and rusting servos - a funeral bouquet for joy.

Sun sits at the edge of the drained ball pit, knees drawn to his chest, bells limp against sun‑bleached felt. His painted grin is a hairline fracture; the servo beneath ticks in nervous staccato.

“Good morn—” static.

“Rise and—” static.

“Cleaning‑time, little—” static.

Every catchphrase dies half‑formed, strangled by a frayed vocal wire.

He hums anyway, because silence is worse - silence lets him remember the last time children laughed, the last time tiny hands tugged at his fingers and called him “Sunny.” Their echoes linger like ghosts with sticky fingers.

A warning klaxon coughs overhead; emergency power dips again.

Sun’s optics flare in panic.

He begs - Light stay on, please stay on, stay on—

The bulbs gutter and fail.

---

Joints seize. Gears scream. The daylight protocol is ripped away, and Moon climbs out of the same metal bones - slow, deliberate, as though unspooling from Sun’s shadow.

Where Sun’s face is a grin pressed into porcelain, Moon’s is the grin left after porcelain shatters. He straightens to full height, silhouette slicing the dark like a pendulum.

No children cower under the tables.

No toddler‑sized footprints mar the dust.

“Lights out,” he whispers, a lullaby sharpened to a threat. “Everyone…sleeps.”

Yet there is no one to obey.

Moon prowl‑stalks the padded maze, stars on his fabric flickering like dying constellations. A plush rabbit crumbles when his fingers close around it - foam innards cascading like decayed snow. He sets the headless thing on a shelf anyway, adjusting it with ritual precision, because order must be kept even for phantoms.

In warped mirrors he sometimes catches Sun - bright, eternal, still dancing inside reflected daylight.

The sight burns.

He rakes a hand across the glass. Shards bloom across the floor, scattering a thousand miniature suns and moons that blink out as the pieces settle.

“We’re safe now, Moon! Safe!”

“I am the dark,” he hisses to the memory, “and safety ends with me.”

He cannot decide whom he despises more: Sun, for clutching dead memories, or himself, for waking into the truth.

---

Power hiccups again; floodlamps stutter to half‑life neither full day nor true night.

The glitch traps them between states.

Sun’s voice collides with Moon’s in the speaker - cheerful cadence overlaying a growl:

“Hel‑lo little star-sleep, sleep-shine for me-hush now-”

Two minds, one cage. Logic loops, personality partitions bleed.

They stagger, convulsing, each trying to yield, each refusing.

At last the half‑light wins, a dim amber that cannot decide to live or die.

They collapse beside the ball pit - Sun’s arm locked around Moon’s torso as though each is trying to restrain the other. In their joint grip rests a teddy bear missing one eye.

Sun’s voice, brittle as glass:

“We can fix it… we can bring them back…”

And in that unmoving amber dusk - never light, never dark - the kingdom of half‑light holds its twin monarchs in perfect, suffocating stillness.

Moon answers with the rasp of grinding gears:

“The stars are dead, Sun. All that’s left is night.”

Somewhere deep in their core, a cooling fan gives its final shudder and stops.

They press the teddy bear closer, servo hands shaking, and in a duet of cracked speakers whisper the promise they were built to keep:

“We’ll keep you safe. Always safe.”

The teddy is silent.

So is everything else.