#that being said i do wish the author has gone a bit more detail into fingon and maedhros' friendship. there is almost no dialogues between | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dixonsmonroe · 2 years

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Lowkey In Love

Summary: You go on another few dates with Bucky, your relationship taking a next step. You’re both cautious; but sometimes a risk is worth it.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 3.6k

Author’s note: some people requested a follow up to Lost and Found, so here it is. i advise reading the first part to avoid any confusion in this part! thanks for reading. :)

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), fluff, Bucky and reader being nervous and adorable, brief Bucky POV, Sam Wilson appearance because I love him and couldn’t keep him out of this story

*****

It was supposed to be a busy day at the salon. You had appointments booked back to back pretty much all day. You got into work and Rina immediately gave you the biggest smile as you settled into your station.

“So,” she raised her eyebrows suggestively. “How’d it go?”

All the girls instantly turned to you, needing details. It wasn’t like you to keep these things on the downlow, and the girls were starving for some good new gossip.

“How’d what go?” Jasmine asked.

“Did you have a date?” Layla piped up.

You tried not to blush and rolled your eyes with a smile. “Yes, I did. And it went amazing.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

You cleared your throat, not wanting to give away Bucky’s whole history. That was his story to tell, and you wanted to respect that. Besides, to you he was just a normal, sweet guy who took you on the best date you’d been on in a while. Maybe ever.

“He’s actually my upstairs neighbor,” you said. “He used to be in the army. Gomez is obsessed with him already.”

There was a chorus of ‘awwws’ from them all, and you couldn’t stop the stupid grin on your face.

“Got pictures?” Jasmine asked.

“No,” you replied. “And he doesn’t really do social media. He’s kind of an…old man when it comes to technology.”

“What’s his name?”

“James,” you thought about him, about his smile, his gentlemanly nature. You thought about his hold on your hips as he had kissed you the night before.

Your first appointment came in then, and you greeted them and brought them over to your chair. The day actually went pretty smoothly, give or take some typical stressful moments. When you were done with work, you went out for drinks with the girls like you did every Friday.

At around seven PM, your phone buzzed. Your grin told them exactly who had texted you.

“Is it him?” Jasmine tried to peek over at your phone.

“Let the girl have her privacy!” Rina said.

You read the text.

“You free tomorrow night? After King Kong yesterday I think I need to watch the rest of those movies”

You bit your lip and texted back.

“I’m free, we can have a marathon if you want :)”

“awesome, come by at 7? gomez is invited too.”

Your heart fluttered. You were excited; both at the fact that he actually texted you, and also that he didn’t care that it had only been a day since you saw each other. You always thought the whole ‘wait this many days’ before you call someone for a second date was ridiculous. He wanted to spend more time with you, and that got your heart racing.

The next night you got home from work, the girls sending you knowing farewells, wishing you luck. You set your purse down on your bedroom chair, and kissed Gomez on the top of the head. He was curled up on your bed, purring when he realized it was you.

“Okay, I’ll only be gone for a little while, so no mischief,” you said to him. You turned to your closet and changed into a nice sweater and some leggings. You texted Bucky that you were home, and would be up soon.

As you were leaving your apartment, you turned to say goodbye to your cat, when you watched a little dark blur run past your feet.

“Gomez!” You called and shut your door. You ran after your cat, who you found sitting right outside of Bucky’s door. “Seriously?”

He seemed content, meowing loudly.

The door to the apartment opened and Bucky smiled. He laughed as Gomez rubbed up against his legs before entering the apartment.

”I’m so sorry, he has no manners,” you said, embarrassed.

“That’s fine, I told you he was invited,” Bucky shrugged and shut the door behind you.

You looked around the place. It was small, but cute. There was a fuzzy blanket thrown over the back of the couch, and there were a few framed photos on the walls. One was of him and Steve Rogers from back in the 40s, when they were overseas. There was another of him and Sam Wilson on a boat, what looked like a candid shot of them laughing at something. Bucky’s smile was warm and real, and the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

“Your place is nice,” you said.

“Thanks,” he replied. “I don’t usually have people over, but I’ve been trying to decorate more. Make it feel more like home.”

He grabbed you both drinks and handed you yours. “So, which movie do we start with?”

“After Kong Skull Island is Godzilla: King of the Monsters,” you said. “I don’t love it as much as King Kong, but it still stands.”

You both took your seats on the couch, when you heard a loud meow and the sound of paws trotting across the hardwood floor. Gomez jumped on the couch and was immediately all over Bucky, rubbing his face against his hand until he started petting him.

He smiled and scratched Gomez under the chin.

It made you melt inside how much Bucky genuinely loved cats. Gomez loved absolutely everybody, and seeked attention from whoever would give it, but he had a bond with Bucky quicker than he’d ever had with anyone besides you.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking of getting a cat,” Bucky said.

“Really?” you said, tossing some popcorn into your mouth. “I can give you the number of the rescue I got Gomez from. They were super helpful.”

He looked lovingly at your cat. “How’d you know he was the one?”

You grinned, remembering that day. “He sort of chose me, I guess. I went in looking for a cuddly cat, one that would hang out with me. I met a few that were sweet but didn’t exactly click. Then I met Gomez, and he was the biggest ham I’d ever met. He put on a show, rubbing up against me and purring super loud. Anytime I talked to him, he would meow back. The volunteers at the shelter said he was always sweet with people, but they had never seen him so enamored with someone. I took him home that day.”

Bucky looked down at Gomez, who was now curled up contently on his lap.

“I’ll take the name of that rescue,” he said.

At the end of the night, he walked you to your door, like the gentleman he was.

“So, I have to leave for work for a few days,” he said. “But when I get back, there’s somewhere I want to take you if you’d wanna go?”

You tried to be nonchalant, but it made you feel warm inside that he was already thinking about taking you out again.

“I’d like that,” you said. You kissed him and turned to walk down the stairs. “Be safe, okay?”

“I will,” he gave you a small smile.

***

It was difficult for Bucky not to be safe on this trip. It was just a meeting in DC where stuffy politicians argued about the state of the country. Sam did most of the talking on their behalf, but Bucky had to be there as support. He and Sam were partners, and he needed to show face. It was also supposed to help keep his image in a positive light.

While he and Sam were on the jet back home, he was fidgeting the whole way. He must have been smiling at his phone like an idiot when a text popped up from you, because Sam cleared his throat.

Bucky looked up. “What?”

“Something’s had you all antsy and oddly cheery,” Sam smirked. “Or someone.”

Bucky felt his face heat up and tried to hide it. He didn’t make eye contact with Sam. “Maybe.”

“Really?” Sam smiled. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s nothing, Sam,” Bucky stopped, correcting himself. “Well, it’s not nothing, it’s hopefully something, but it’s…new. I don’t know.”

“Who is it?”

“My downstairs neighbor,” he replied. He grinned thinking about you. “I found her cat for her and we went on a date.”

“Good for you, man,” Sam said genuinely. “I’m glad you’re giving it a shot.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to be careful, I haven’t done this in a while,” he said. “I don’t wanna mess it up.”

“You’ll be fine, Buck,” Sam said. “You deserve this.”

***

Bucky didn’t get back until three days later. He had texted you a few times, and you enjoyed the conversation. He had sent you a picture of a black cat that he saw, and you texted back jokingly saying how Gomez wouldn’t appreciate him hanging out with other strange cats. You found yourself missing him, and the girls at work lightly teased you about it. You missing someone was never a good sign in your case; it usually ended with you getting hurt, or more often, you hurting them due to lack of chemistry. You were hoping this time would be different.

That feeling was only reinforced when he got home, sped down the stairs from his apartment, and knocked on your door.

You opened it after looking through the peephole, and resisted the urge to throw your arms around him when you saw him.

When he leaned in though, you couldn’t help but squeeze him back. You kissed and it felt sweet, like the beginning stages of something wonderful. You pulled back and smiled at him.

“How was it?” You asked.

He shrugged. “Boring. A lot of political leaders droning on and on about god knows what.”

“Sounds awful,” you said. He closed the door behind him and sat next to you on the couch.

“I’m just glad to be back home,” he said, kneeling down to pet Gomez, who was doing figure-eights around his legs.

“So, that thing you mentioned before you left,” you said. “What is it? It’s been killing me, you left me with such a cliffhanger.”

“It’s called a surprise,” he grinned.

“I don’t know if I’ll survive,” you groaned dramatically and he laughed.

“Then how does tonight sound?” he asked.

“I think that sounds great,” you smiled.

“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said.

“How do I have to dress?” You asked. “Is it fancy?”

He weighed his options. “Not really, there’s not really a dress code.”

“Got it,” you replied. You supposed you could work with that. “I’ll see you at six.”

He went back up to his apartment and you started looking for something to wear. You eventually decided on a sundress and nice shoes. It was only two, so you had time to kill. You decided to get some stuff done around the house.

Later on, you got ready to go out, and really thought about your feelings. You were a little nervous; you didn’t want to hound him or ask for all his attention, but he always found a way to send you a cute or funny message when he was gone. Rina had made fun of you for how much you blushed when you opened his texts. It was a little ridiculous, you hadn’t felt this way since you were a teenager. And to be honest, it seemed like he really liked you too.

When he knocked on your door, you said goodbye to Gomez and left.

You got a cab, which he told to bring you downtown, and it dropped you off in front of an art gallery.

“What’s this?” You asked with a smile.

“An old coworker owns this place,” he said. “She displays shows every month. There’s a painter I think is really cool, and you said you were a painter, so I thought maybe you’d like it.”

You smiled wide and kissed him on the cheek. “I love it.”

He blushed and took your hand as you walked in. It wasn’t too busy, but there were a good amount of people milling around. You admired the artwork on the walls; it took you back to being in school, all the shows you’d go to. You hadn’t done that in a long time, you hadn’t really done any art in a while.

“I miss it sometimes,” you said honestly as you stared at a piece with a lot of yellow in it.

“Painting?” He asked.

You nodded. “I used to do it all the time, even after I got out of school. Now I don’t remember the last time I painted.”

“Maybe you should start again,” he shrugged.

“I do need pieces for a show in a few months,” you heard a voice behind you and you turned to see a blonde woman standing there.

Bucky introduced you. “This is Sharon, she owns the gallery.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled. “This place is beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she replied. “Gives me something to do. Bucky told me you paint, any interest in showing your stuff?”

“Oh, uh,” you glanced at Bucky then back at Sharon. “I haven’t made anything in a really long time.”

“Well, art’s a little like riding a bike, right?” She shrugged. “If you ever get back into it, let me know. Enjoy the rest of the show.”

Sharon walked off to greet other guests and you sighed.

“Sorry if I put you on the spot,” Bucky said sheepishly. “Sharon’s always been a little…forward.”

You smiled. “It’s no problem. I’ll definitely think about it.”

You spent a little longer at the gallery, and eventually went back to his place.

When you got back, you laid on his couch together, watching a movie. You were barely paying attention, only thinking about his arm that was over your torso as he lay behind you. You had felt the tension since you left the gallery, for some reason him noticing the little things about you made you feel like he was the real deal.

You’d been dancing around it for a while, never wanting to make the first move. He’d been a gentleman so far, never going any further than making out.

But now you were ready, and you were about to find out if he was too.

You turned to face him and nuzzled your face into his neck. He took a quick breath in and lifted your head up to kiss you. You ran your hands up his chest and gripped onto his shoulders.

You took his hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles, then one on his lips. Your mouth trailed kisses along his jawline and down to his collarbones. Your hands were now grabbing at his shirt, and his hands pulled your hips up against his.

His hands traveled down to your waist and then your lower back. He hesitated before moving any further, so you pulled away and nodded quickly. His hands went to your thighs and he climbed on top of you. You couldn't help but arch your hips up into his. He groaned softly into your mouth, and brought his hips down to yours. He was kissing your neck, trailing them along your collarbone, and back up to your jaw.

His hands traveled up to your breasts, and you pulled away and moaned. He kissed all around your collarbone, your hands going up to tangle in his short hair. He put his hands under your shirt and rested them on your hips.

You looked at him and kept his hand in yours, and continued kissing him.

“Bedroom?” He asked.

You nodded, he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, head on the pillows and him lying between your legs. You hiked your leg up over his hip and just looked up at him. He was so beautiful, his jawline sharp and gorgeous. You continued making out, hands wandering, until you flipped over and climbed on top of him. He pulled your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. You reciprocated by doing the same, trying not to stare too long at his abs. You leaned down to kiss his collarbone and across to his shoulders. You reached his left shoulder, and laid a kiss there, lips on cold metal. You took his hand again, placing a kiss on his knuckles. You saw him visibly swallow, and for a moment you were afraid that you made him uncomfortable.

Instead, he pulled you back down to his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, hands moving up and down your torso, just feeling you.

“You are,” you kissed him and unbuttoned his jeans. You pulled off the rest of your clothes and he was back on top of you. You reached down and wrapped your hand around his dick, moving it up and down slowly.

He closed his eyes and hung his head. “Fuck.”

You loved the sounds he was making, the shaky breaths and short quiet moans. His right hand reached down to rub your clit and your back arched off the bed slightly. He did that for a little, following the sound of your moans and your encouraging words while he worked you until you were completely wet for him.

“You ready?” he asked.

You handed him a condom from the nightstand drawer and nodded. “I am.”

He rolled it on and slowly entered you. He let out a breath of relief, and you whined out at the feeling. You hadn’t done this in a long time. It was definitely an adjustment, but quickly felt very good.

He stopped when he noticed the look on your face and how your hands gripped his shoulders.

“You okay?” he asked, sounding a little panicked.

“Yeah, hey,” you put your hand on his jaw and gave him a soft smile. “Just need a minute.”

He kissed you on your lips, your neck, your chest, until you gave him the go ahead.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you said.

He slowly started moving, just enjoying the feeling. He was a little nervous, not having done this in so long.

“Oh my god, you feel so good,” you said, building his confidence a little more.

“Yeah?” he breathed out. His face was in the crook of your neck, and he decided he wanted to hear how good he made you feel for the rest of his life.

“Yeah,” you moaned out, lightly pulling at the short hair on the back of his head. That sent sparks up his spine, and he let out a groan louder than he meant to.

He picked up a little bit of speed, setting a rhythm that you fell into easily. He felt so good, almost like you fit perfectly together.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned out. “I’m getting close.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist and kept him in you. “Me too, please don’t stop.”

He rested your foreheads together and pushed into you until you both hit your breaking point. The feeling of you clenching around him, it was like nothing he’d ever felt before, and it sent him over the edge.

When you came down, you breathed heavily against each other’s lips. He kissed you sweetly, and you rubbed your thumb over the stubble on his cheek.

“Goddamn,” you breathed.

He chuckled and rolled off of you. He got rid of the condom, and you cuddled up against him, hand over his chest, tracing circles around his dog tags.

You laid there in bliss for a while, just enjoying being together. You listened to his heartbeat, the steady sound of it keeping you calm.

“Stay the night?” he asked.

“Of course,” you kissed his forehead and mindlessly he wrapped his vibranium arm around you. It was warmer now, comforting, and you settled into his side.

The next morning, you woke up to him still lightly snoring next to you. He looked content, at peace.

He peeked one eye open and smiled at you. You chuckled and kissed him softly.

“Morning,” he pulled you into his side.

You sighed contentedly. “Good morning.”

You heard his phone buzz from his jeans pocket across the room, but he ignored it. He curled around you and you nuzzled yourself into his chest. Your breathing slowed, and his heartbeat was even and steady.

His ringer went off on his phone and he groaned.

“Sorry,” he said and sat up. He picked his jeans up and took the phone out and answered. “What, Sam? It’s early.”

You watched as annoyance turned into stoicism on his face. He nodded and listened intently. Finally, Sam let him go and he let out a sigh as he hung up the phone.

“Everything good?” you asked.

He laid back down on the bed and faced you. “Yeah, I just gotta leave for a few days for work.”

“Gotcha,” you said, a little disappointed but you tried not to show it.

He put his hand on your jaw and kissed you. “I’d like to call you while I’m gone, if you’re okay with it. I don’t want you to think I’m just up and leaving after last night.”

“Bucky, I know,” you replied, thumb tracing circles over the hand that was on your cheek. “I would love for you to call me, even if you only get a few minutes.”

He smiled warmly. “Want breakfast? I don’t have to leave until tonight.”

“I would love breakfast,” you replied, stretching and following him to the kitchen.

Even though he had to leave again, you knew now that you could get used to nights like last night. And when he unknowingly made your bacon exactly how you liked it, you knew you could get used to mornings like this as well.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #my fic

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scotianostra · 2 years

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October 14 & 15th 1586 saw the trial of Queen of Scots at Fotheringhay Castle in Northamptonshire.

Settle down, this is a wee bit longer than my normal posts, some state it started on 14th, but it concluded on the 15th, so here we are.

You might remember my post a month ago when Mary arrived at her last “prison”, the place where she would ultimately spend her last days and meet her end.

If the history books are to be believed. Mary Stuart first sighted the ancient castle towers from a path called since the “days of the Domesday Book”, Perryho Lane, on hearing the name Perryho, she is said to have made a melancholy little play on the name exclaiming aloud, ‘Perio! I perish.’ and indeed she did.

Mary was always a threat to the English Queen Elizabeth’s rule. Seen by Catholics as the true catholic ruler of England, there was many a plot to bump off Elizabeth and put Mary on the throne.

For almost 20 years Mary was dragged around England and locked up in its various castles. Having said that she was allowed certain freedoms including rides in the countryside and hunting trips, Fotheringhay was different.

Despite the size of the castle Mary found herself incarcerated in comparatively mean apartments: this brought back all her phobia of a secret killing, the sort of barbarous death that stained the history of English medieval castles. The most notorious being one Edward II son of Longshanks, “Hammer of the Scots” who some say was murdered at Berkeley Castle, Gloucestershire by being held down and having a red-hot poker inserted inside his anus, and his screams could be heard miles away. although most historians do question whether it is true or not, the fact is he was murdered.

When Mary’s servants reported that many of the state rooms had been left empty, Mary drew the correct conclusion that she was about to be tried, and the rooms were awaiting the arrival of dignitaries from London. Just after two weeks later on, October 1st she was informed by her keeper, Sir Amias Paulet that her misdeeds were now to be punished by the interrogation of certain lords, and advised her in her own interests to beg pardon and confess her faults.

Mary’s reply was that Paulet was behaving like a grownup with a small child, asking her to own up to what she had done. Then she went on more seriously: ‘As a sinner, I am truly conscious of having often offended my Creator, and I beg Him to forgive me, but as Queen and Sovereign, I am aware of no fault or offence for which I have to render account to anyone here below. …’ And she concluded loftily: ‘As therefore I could not offend, I do not wish for pardon; I do not seek, nor would I accept it from anyone living.’ For those who know anything about the Stewart monarchs this relates again to the Divine Right to rule, and they would only answer to God.

The charges against Mary were to do with a conspiracy to kill Elizabeth and replace her with Mary, her fellow conspirators included among others, John Ballard, a Jesuit priest, Weshman Thomas Morgan, a close confident of Mary’s, and Anthony Babington, a Catholic noble who is said was the ring leader, the plot has gone down in history bearing his name The Babington Plot.

Whilst locked away, Mary advised the plotters, both in terms of strategy and how to ensure she’d win the English throne. And naturally as the ‘rightful’ ruler of England Mary would be the one to sign off on the plot starting. he plot took shape during the summer in 1586.

Babington informed Mary that he represented a group who planned to kill Elizabeth and install Mary as the new Queen of England. Babington asked for her support of their plan. Mary responded, asking for more details.

Unfortunately for Mary, the plot had been infiltrated and Elizabeth I’s own spy master, Sir Francis Walsingham had been using the letters to entrap Mary and get her to call for Elizabeth’s murder.

Mary agreed with the plans, but did not authorized the assassination. That did not matter however, because Walsingham’s spies intercepted the letter. The letter was deciphered and copied but this time a postscript was added. According to the new letter, Mary authorized the assassination. Walsingham had his proof, and so with this false evidence Mary was indicted.

Before the trial even started Ballard, the Catholic priest, was arrested and tortured. It is said that by the time he arrived at his execution site, John Ballards limbs were barely in their sockets, as a result of the torture he’d undergone, of course during his torture he gave up the names of others involved, the main man being Babington, in September the men were executed one after the other and forced to watch as they, in turn were hung drawn and quartered, the same age old punishment for treason.

After the gruesome bloodbath attention turned to Mary.

Now I’m not saying Elizabeth was faultless in all this but she wasn’t keen on trying her Mary, not just because they were cousins, it would set a precedent trying and ultimately executing someone still seen as most of Europe as the rightful Queen of Scotland. Her hand was being forced by her advisors like Walsingham, indeed they had their eye on disposing of the troublesome Mary for some time forcing through an act of Parliament the year before called The Act of Association: this provided means whereby a commission of twenty-four peers and privy councillors might be appointed to investigate any conspiracy or attempt to hurt Elizabeth ‘by any person or with the privity of any person that shall or may pretend to the title to the Crown of this realm’.

The punishments for anyone found guilty under this act were to be two-fold: firstly they were to be deprived of their title to the English crown forever, and secondly they could be lawfully put to death under the provisions of the Act. It had been quite clear at the time that this Act had been especially framed in order get rid of our Queen, it was tailor made for her.

The records of Mary’s trial were compiled by the notes of those present, who included two persons designated as writers. It would have been nearly impossible to write by hand every word uttered in the courtroom. Some say Mary spoke very broken English due to her time spent in France., I myself find this hard to believe, yes she had been educated in France, but the Four Mary’s would have made sure the young Queen could speak the Scot’s tongue, at very least.

Mary’s defence was set out mainly that, she wasn’t an English subject and therefore couldn’t be held as an English traitor. She’d been denied legal counsel or the right to view evidence being bought against her. Oh and the age old she was a Queen. Anointed by God. It would literally be a sin to kill her.

Therefore, how accurately were the writers able to record her statements? Whose spoken words were left undocumented? Which statements in particular? Did the two journalists favour Mary or Elizabeth, and if so, did they allow this to influence their notes of the trial? A completely accurate record of the trial is unattainable due to the faultiness of its records, some historians just filled in the blanks to suit themselves, depending on their own leanings.

When the trial concluded, Parliament gave speeches and had open discussion about Mary’s sentencing. They also held audiences with Elizabeth. During the audiences held between Parliament and Elizabeth, Elizabeth gave two speeches. In her first speech, she declared that if it were not for “the safe and welfare of my whole people, I would (I protest unfeignedly) most willingly pardon her.” Elizabeth asserted that Mary was bound to the English laws but reaffirmed that the late act “was no ways prejudice to her.” Rather, Elizabeth explained that the law was in place to warn her, but since Mary still acted against the Queen and the law “was in force,” there was no reason not to “proceed against her according to the same.’ But, if the laws almost explicitly name Mary, then why did Elizabeth feel the need to restate that they were not prejudiced against her? Now I know I deflected some of the blame away from Elizabeth earlier but It seems that this was just another way for Elizabeth to maintain her image of innocence.

Furthermore, Elizabeth explained that because of "this last Act of Parliament” she must “order for her [Mary’s] death” The Councillors’ plan to somehow remove Mary as a threat had worked. Elizabeth felt her hands were tied in the matter due to the Acts of Parliament, which the Councillors had drafted with specific language aimed toward Mary.

Eventually, Mary’s sentence was issued and proclaimed in the English countryside and towns. Immediately following the proclamation, Walsingham drafted the warrant for Mary’s execution. The speed at which these documents were drafted show that Elizabeth’s Councillors were adamant about having Mary executed.

In late December of 1586, Elizabeth had the papers for the execution drawn up. On February 1st, 1587, she signed Mary’s death warrant.

I wont go into the execution as I normally post all the details on the anniversary of her death, February 8th 1587, I will however add a few more lines regarding King James VI and letters between Elizabeth and him.

Around the same time Elizabeth signed the warrant, she sent a letter to James, who had earlier requested that his mother be sent into the neutral custody of a foreign prince.

In her response, Elizabeth asked if James thought her “so mad to trust my own life in another’s hand and send it out of my own?

She also refers to the "absurdity of such an offer. In this letter, Elizabeth placed the focus on James’s offer rather than on the circumstances surrounding Mary at the present time, basically awaiting her fate. She did not say she was unwilling to give Mary to a neutral prince because she was either considering signing the execution warrant or had already done so.

Elizabeth withheld from James any more of a response than was necessary. It seemed that she intentional1y focused this letter’s content on James’s request to divert attention from her intention to sign Mary’s death warrant.

After Mary’s execution, Elizabeth wrote another letter to James. Elizabeth referred to Mary’s execution as a "miserable accident which (far contrary to my meaning) hath befallen”

Elizabeth claimed innocence in calling for Mary’s execution, but what she wrote next left a sense of doubt as to her innocence in the matter. She told James that she had “now sent this kinsman of mine … to instruct you truly of that which is too irksome for my pen to tell you.’d While one may infer that Elizabeth sent a kinsman to explain the actual happenings of Mary’s execution you have to wonder if that was truly the case. Could Elizabeth have sent this "kinsman” to explain what she would not want left documented on paper? Elizabeth would have known to not leave a self-incriminating paper trail regarding her true role in Mary’s execution. Thus, she sent a “kinsman” to explain the actual circumstances relating to Mary’s execution.

The truth behind what this kinsman actually told to James will forever stay a mystery because these words were just spoken in a private audience and not documented in a letter, just like Elizabeth wanted. The final question remains: was it the work of the Councillors that called for the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, or did Elizabeth I play more active role than she wished to admit?

I myself believe the Councillors did not need to have their arms twisted to call for Mary’s execution. They perceived Mary as a threat and made it their top priority to remove her Queen Elizabeth’s full part in the murky affair will always be up for debate.

As ever I have used a lot of different sources when compiling this, if you want more on the trial check the article below out, remember though every source is different so not all that is written here will relate entirely to my post, it is however a more in depth analysis of the trial.

https://erenow.net/biographies/maryqueenofscotsantoniafraser/27.php

Pics are a depictions of the tral

#Scotland #scottish #mary queen of scots

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clarissalance · 3 years

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Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you?

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.)

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!!

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat.

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows.

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation.

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent. With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.”

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks?

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away.

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said: ‘Farewell, my comrades’.

For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword.

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

“ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone?

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground!

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.”

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department.

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you.

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them.

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years.

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out.

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed.

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?"

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button.

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful.

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?”

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him.

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank.

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes.

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture.

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike.

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you.

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground.

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes.

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks.

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating.

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry.

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch.

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up.

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby.

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ” His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent?

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo.

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort. Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what?

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you.

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you?

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action.

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about.

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day? You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now!

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm.

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more.

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist.

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering.

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure.

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route.

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack.

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can.

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder?

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back.

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively.

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go?

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.”

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic.

#kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #no beta we kayak like tim #genshin impact #clarissalance #who has the upper hand ?#argument #fluff #tension #smart reader #strategist #genshin varka #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc

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studiojeon · 3 years

Text

troubled outsiders | intro - jjk

| summary | - how you two end up pining for each other.

warnings: none :)

content: idol!jungkook x student!oc, friends to lovers (because it’s THE superior trope okurrrt), jungkook is quiet and shy but a social butterfly when needed (and when it comes to oc but you’re not supposed to know that yet), oc is both a badass and a socially akward queen, she has TWO friends and only because one is dating the other (like... same), the Lee Charyeong is her bestie, oc works at bighit and feels like everyone either fears her or hates her, author nim is a crackhead and has no plot planned for this series whatsoever (doesn’t know if she’ll keep this up, we’ll see).

words: 1.93 k

His presence was overwhelming, to say the least. Even if he were surrounded by six hundred other equally handsome men, somehow, to you (and the majority of the female population, at that point) he was as captivating and magnetic as they come. Jeon Jungkook didn't pay no mind to no one, but sure as hell everyone became hyper aware of his existence and essence in time. And that didn’t exclude you.

Yet, as nonchalant and indifferent as the man could be perceived, in reality he was more considerate and friendly than the aura he exuded. You knew this because working in the same company had to teach a thing or two about the people who literally carried said company and the whole industry at some point, still you barely knew four or three people, including your assistant and Jungkook, whom you had met once.

The opportunity of working at the company had come to you out of the blue, quite literally, you were attempting to send one of your assignments in when an email appeared in your notifications during your sailor moon study break.

HYBE Entertainment

We’re glad to inform you that you’re being recruited for the position of Logistics Manager in one of our sub companies, BIGHIT Entertainment. We’ve thoroughly looked through the CV you’ve submitted and are very interested in your capabilities and what you can contribute to our organization. One of our other managers will gladly meet you on a day you can both agree on. Make sure to answer this email to get more details about your interview.

“Nani!? THE FUCK?” sure as hell that your eyes and cognitive functions were deceiving you (ADHD) you went over the text a little over three times in a row before the message settled in your mind. This was sus.

Before even considering a reply you made a quick call. “Fucking Lee Chaeryeong” you spat on your end of the line. “You did this, didn’t you?”.

Her silence was more than enough to have you cursing her under your breath. “I don’t know what exactly you’re talking about but it most likely was me. Does it have to do with a sex toy in particular?”

“No” you denied almost monotonously, guessing the pile of boxes in the corner of your room with her names on them was what she referred to. “Does anything come to mind if i mention BIGHIT FUCKING ENTERTAINMENT?”

It was her. All those conversations during the summer about how badly you wanted to work in the entertainment business as marketing staff of some sort had their effect on your friend, who, despite all your excuses and denials, knew you better than you and your mom combined did, and because of this, was sure as hell you were not making a move towards that goal whatsoever. So, being the boss bitch she was, she took matters into her own hands, was what she explained.

You concluded that was the reason you had reached a point in your life where you had more experience than most recently graduated kids in your field, because Chaeryeong had you moving every summer break. You had been the manager of a coffee franchise and convenience store during you junior and senior years, and also figured a way to improve the marketing management strategy of a fucking restaurant while at it. Not to toot your own horn, but you were kind of cool.

Or not. “I hope this job satisfies your workaholic ass for once, I’m running out of ideas”. Chaeryeong spat before hanging up.

Sure as hell it would.

On friday afternoon, you made your way to the HYBE INSIGHT building and introduced yourself to your recruiters who promised to give you a call at some point. “It went fine” you told Chaeryeong once you were in your car. And it was the truth, however you weren’t so sure if they would actually hire you at some point since well, you were a girl in a male dominated industry and, in your opinion, there were always better people than you. “Wanna go grab coffee?”

“I want to. But, I have practice today. I’m actually on my way there. Please avoid driving through Hongdae today, this shit’s packed.” You sighed and thanked her for the heads up. You missed your friend, badly. You hadn’t seen each other in three weeks, and you didn’t even live so far away from each other (you did, but it had been worse before). You two had very agitated lives to say the least. Chaeryeong was a kpop group member, and well, you were jumping from job to job and getting your phD in Business Management at the same time. It was hard to find moments to spare together during some periods of the year, but you guess the anticipation made your encounters better.

“Talk about anticipation” you slammed your forehead against your desk, taking a breather after such an anxiety packed situation. Short story: you got the job (for some fucking reason). And you had gone through a whole week of expectancy and anguish. Not getting that job would have broken your heart, and ego at the same time.

You guessed the law of attraction tactics Chaeryeong had taught you had sorted their effect and were what led you to your current position in life.

“Miss _____, your presentation’s ready” your work assistant gave you a comforting pat in the back as she took a seat somewhere next to you. You were nervous, shitless. It was your fifth week at the job, and being the proactive woman you were, you had collected lots of data in order to come up with a resources management plan.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and more than a hundred people sat in front of you, waiting for your speech. Including him, who you’d once bumped into accidentally during one of your data recollections runs inside the building.

You hated having the need to impress others yet, hence your anxious behaviour. But this was a decisive moment in regards to your validation in your new job and how you’d continue to be perceived during your work stance (no reason to panic at all)… you needed to get it together.

“I think I just pissed off a bunch of old men right now,” you told your assistant right after you got off stage. “I need a bathroom break”. Linh gave you a reassuring smile, one she always had plastered on her face.

“Take as long as you need to. I’ll give you a call once the rest are done”.

The commute to the bathroom was unnecessarily complicated in your opinion. You had spent a little over a month rushing through the hallways of the building and you swore every single day your spatial orientation got a bit more fucked up. There was no way there wasn’t a single bathroom on the floor you were in, that would just be atrocious. “It’s not completed yet” someone said beside you as you stared at the half empty map the company had projected on a wall next to the elevators. “Where do you need to go?”

Kim Taehyung of all people in the world was talking to your ugly and unworthy ass. Your breath caught in your throat and after staring for at least five seconds your body finally reacted to your orders. “Oh, um… the bathroom. I’ve been looking for it for a good ten minutes” you explained with a nervous laugh.

“Trust me, I get it. I still get lost over here” he smiled gently. “It’s in the hallway in the middle of the next hallway”

You laughed at his very ambiguous explanation. “Thank you” you bowed your head and made your way to said destination.

It was in the hallway to your left, not your right, and it took you a while to figure out that new piece of information. Once you were staring at yourself in the mirror, you realized that you looked considerably tired and exhausted from all the social interaction you had undergone throughout the day. You were used to the side stares and whispering you’d get whenever you entered a room at that point, but some days you just wished you could get a break from them. After all, it wasn’t your fault you didn’t look Korean at all, and that you also didn’t fit the stereotype of a foreigner.

You got that from your mom, both the non Korean features and social fatigue. But that wasn’t even the problem most of the time, it was your friendly and smart nature which she had also passed onto you. Some would consider it a blessing, but to you it was a burden, like a clear glass that shielded you from introducing yourself into other people’s realities. You had few friends and people to trust, but in your everyday life you had to deal with the pressure of standing out too much and that came with a lot of negative energy from others. You sigh as you spray your favorite fragrance on yourself. You could be feeling like shit, but no one will ever catch you slipping.

But that excluded him apparently. You hadn’t noticed that on the other side of the hallway was the men’s bathroom and the realization hit you as you were calmly getting some tea from the vending machine. “Good afternoon” the man greeted you as he made his way out the hallway, but stopped in his tracks right after he noticed you. “_____! Hi” he smiled at you and you wanted to die, suddenly forgetting what you were ordering in the first place.

“H-hi Jungkook” You smiled back, poorly attempting to put your wallet back into your backpack.

“Need help there?” he noticed your agitated state and held your bag for you. He smelled just as heavenly as you had expected, somewhat between big dick energy and flowers. Oh, and he also remained as kind and polite as you remembered him.

Seeming as if he wasn’t planning on continuing his path to wherever he was heading to in the first place, he stood quietly by your side, waiting for you to be done with your deal. “How have you been?” you break the ice for him.

Quickly, you grab your tea and start walking back to the auditorium together, unaware of your surroundings or the suspicions that could arise. “Busy, but very good. How have you been? I saw your presentation earlier… I wish I understood half of what you said but you still sounded amazing”.

And you would never admit it out loud, but you were positive you were blushing (and falling in love too - platonically, of course). “Oh god, you think so? I basically told them they’ve been doing things wrong all along so maybe you’re the only one who’s appreciative of my work” you handed him the second can of iced tea you bought without him noticing. You swear his eyes lit up like stars in the night sky. “Payback for the other day” you smile at him.

The first time you two had crossed paths you didn’t look nearly as glamorous as you did now. In fact, you looked incredibly disturbed and in pain, carrying a huge pile of paperwork in your hands. But as soon as sweet Jungkook noticed your state, he offered you a hand and somehow ended up helping through your multiple data collecting trips that afternoon. It was a nice day.

“Anytime” he took the can in his hands with a shy look on his face. “Unless I’m practicing, you know…” you look down at his feet, with huge black boots engulfing them, and you smile due to their contrast with his personality. “Here, i’ll give you my number so you can call me whenever you need to put all those papers back. Hopefully I’ll be around” he added as he pulled his phone from his back pocket.

Way to get a girl’s number, my god.

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kpop---scenarios · 3 years

Text

Torn Apart (2 Final)

Pairing: Surprise! x Reader

Warning: Smut, Sadness, Angst Maybe? Mean People

Word Count: 5.4k

It had been weeks.

Weeks of sobbing into your pillow, weeks of feeling like things were going to get better, until you found the most insignificant thing that belonged to Chanyeol and you broke down all over again. You missed him. You missed his touch, his warmth, his smile, the way he made you laugh when you were sad. You missed it all. You were broken, and it was all Chanyeol's fault.

Until you scrolled through Instagram, and saw pictures of him with Maya, that bitch. You had never hated anyone in your life until you had met her. You couldn't even begin to fathom what even slightly redeeming qualities Chanyeol saw in her, but apparently there was something to that wench.

You were curled on your couch in the fetal position as you cried at the ending of Strong Girl Bong Soon. You wished you had a love like that. The way An Minhyuk loved Bong Soon was the relationship you wanted, the one you would strive for. He loved her so much and you just wanted to be loved by someone like that.

You groan loudly as your doorbell rings, and then whoever pounds on your door. You didn't want visitors, you didn't care who it was, you wanted to hermit.

"What?" You yelled from the other side of the door.

"Y/N, let me in." You hear from the other side. You recognized the voice immediately.

"Baekhyun, I look like a troll. Kindly leave." You sigh.

"Y/N, if your trolly ass doesn't let me in, I will break down your door." He threatens, which makes you laugh for the first time in days. You both knew he would never be able to do that, and he would likely end up hurting himself.

"Baek, you would break your leg." You say, pulling the door open. On the other side was a sympathetic Baekhyun, who had tissues, ice cream, chocolate and a bag full of movies. You smile at his kindness. "You know I have Netflix right?"

"Shut the fuck up and move, this shit is cold." He barks, moving past you and into your kitchen. "Look, I have all the necessities. We will get you through this. Because I for one, cannot stand the sight of Mayeol and I want to gouge my eyes out, and I need someone to do it with."

"I don't understand how that has anything to do with me." You say, grabbing two spoons.

"Sehun is gone, he's so in love with those two, hes bordering being a psychopath, Jongdae and his wife are just tolerating, Suho, Kai and Kyungsoo are avoiding them like the plague and Minseok and Lay have been MIA, so you're my last hope, Y/N."

"I really don't want to talk about him, Baek." You admit, the hole in your heart somehow feels larger than before.

"That's fine, I'll stop, let's start a movie." He suggests, grabbing a random one out of his bag.

And for the next few hours, that's all you guys did. You watched movies, making comments, laughing and you genuinely had a good time with him. It had been so long since you actually felt happy and you were grateful to Baekhyun for bringing at least a little joy back into your life.

Until he left, and you were alone again. All the feelings came rushing back, except they hurt a little less this time. You didn't miss him quite as much.

The next day, at the same time, your doorbell rang again. You open the door, your eyes puffy and bloodshot and you see Baekhyun standing there again, a new flavor of ice cream in hand, a new kind of chocolate, and a new bag of movies. This time he said nothing to you, instead pushed his way past you and through the door, setting everything down on your living room table as he popped in the movie. You smiled to yourself before turning around to join him, it felt nice to be cared about, and the fact that he was going out of his way to do this for you, and make you feel better. You truly appreciated Baekhyun.

As he sat there and watched the movie, you watched him. The way his eyes lit up at a part of the movie he enjoyed, the face he made when he took a bite of his ice cream, the wrinkle he had in his nose when there was a cheesy scene. You never truly noticed how handsome Baekhyun was until now. His distinct jawline, his large hands, his toned body, you briefly.. very briefly began to wonder how large his..

"No Y/N, no. Do not go there with your existing bestfriend."

You quickly shake off the thought, moving your eyes to the TV screen, trying to focus.

"How are you feeling today?" Baekhyun asks, sliding his phone back into his pants pocket.

"A bit better, I guess." You answer. Before Baekhyun could say anything there was another knock at the door. "That's good." He smiles, standing up. "There are some people who wanna see you." He says, opening the door.

Minseok, Suho and Kyungsoo file through the door, looking at you with pity as they all sit, surrounding you.

"Hiiiii." Suho pouts, protruding his bottom lip. "How are we feeling today?"

"Um, hi." You laugh. "I'm fine."

"Oh good, so we can go." Kyungsoo pipes up, standing up and walking towards the door.

"Sit." Minseok sighs, pointing back at the seat. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, shuffling back to his spot and flopping down.

"She's fine, Chanyeol is fine, so why are we here? Everyone is fine." He groans.

"Have you seen him? Is he fine?" You hesitantly ask. You weren't even sure if you wanted to know.

"Oh he's more than fine." Kyungsoo groans. "He and Maya are all over each other all the time. It's honestly nauseating. Like I want to be able to eat my sandwich without hearing your girlfriend moan when you kiss her." He gags.

You bite your bottom lip as you slowly nod your head, tears welling in your eyes. These were most definitely details you did not need to hear about your ex and the girl he cheated on you with. All the men whip their heads to look at you, who now had your head hanging low as your shoulders shaked. They all look back at Kyungsoo, with only one speaking up.

"That's it." Baekhyun growls. "Kyungsoo, get out." He spits, pointing to the door.

"What did I do?" Kyungsoo asks, innocently. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, looking at you, softly whimpering into the sleeves of your sweater.

"Out. Now." Baekhyun says, giving him the middle finger before flinching as Kyungsoo stands up, whispering "Don't hurt me."

"Don't listen to him." Minseok sighs. "Kyungsoo has zero social cues, he also could not read a room if his life depended on it."

As Kyungsoo opened the door to leave, in rushed Lay, who looked at the man leaving and just nodded his head, realizing he had probably said something rude and was asked to leave. It wasn't the first time and would not be the last either.

"Y/N." Lay breathes. "How do you feel about tall, muscular men who sing?" He asks.

"I do enjoy them. Why?" You ask.

"I have a friend from the hospital.. I think you two would get along really well. He's in his third year of surgery residency and is looking to date. I may have shown him your picture and he instantly said yes." He tells you.

You look around the room, Suho and Minseok are nodding enthusiastically, while Baekhyun sits with his arms crossed against his chest, and a pouty look on his face.

"What do you think?" You ask Baekhyun. He looks up at you, his face softening immediately.

"I uhh, it's up to you. Yanno, if you're into muscular, tall men.." he mumbles.

"You know what? Sure, yes, I will. Chanyeol and Maya are out there living their best lives while I'm sitting here sulking, mourning a love that clearly didn't mean as much to him. So yes I will go out with him." You announce, perking up already. "When?"

"Tonight." Lay says. "More specifically, an hour."

"I need to get ready." You smile, jumping from your seat to rush to your room. You slowly peak your head around the corner, softly smiling at your friends. "Thank you, you guys. You've all really helped me these last weeks. I greatly appreciate you all." You finish, heading back into your room to quickly throw yourself together.

By the time you were done, you had 15 minutes to spare, and you were damn proud of what you accomplished in the last 45 minutes. You showered and shaved to become a hairless human from the eyelashes down, you managed to get the knots out of your hair and it looked in decent shape, as well as hide the semi-permanent redness of your eyes with a lot of makeup. You almost didn't recognize yourself in the mirror when you looked. You didn't see the heartbroken girl anymore, you saw someone confident, hot and worthy of a great love.

Stepping out into the living room you blush at all the 'oohs and ahhs' from your friends.

Except for Baekhyun.

When you looked at him, his eyes shined and for some reason it made your heartbeat a little faster. You watched his eyes trail up and down your body, seemingly taking in every curve, every inch of you. When he notices you staring, he clears his throat and looks away. "You look prettyish." He mumbles as he walks away, there's a knock at the door. Baekhyun is the one to answer and looks up at the tall man.

"You must be.." he begins, moving out of the way, letting the man walk in.

"Hi." He smiles at you. "I'm Matthew." He says, holding out his hand.

"Hi Matthew." You grin. "Y/N." You finish, introducing yourself.

"It's really nice to meet you. You look phenomenal." He says, holding your hand up to spin you around. You can't help but let out a loud laugh as a blush spreads across your cheeks.

"Thank you." You whisper. "Shall we?"

He waves to Lay and everyone else before taking your arm in his and leading you out the door. You left three excited men behind you and one who felt annoyed but didn't quite know why.

You hadn't laughed so hard until tears rolled down your cheeks and you held your stomach for a very long time. You honestly were surprised at how much you and Matthew had in common. You both enjoyed the same type of music, food, and pastimes. You had yet to meet someone who loved the same authors as you, who enjoyed doing your favorite activities and who genuinely seemed like a great person but here he was, sitting right in front of you at this nice restaurant.

"I have to admit something." Matthew begins. Your stomach drops as you feel like he's going to tell you he's married or has a girlfriend, something that's going to make you lose trust in men, again.

"Go on." You say, forcing a smile before taking a sip of your drink.

"I really like you." He grins. "It's insane, I have never met someone I had so much in common with until tonight."

"I was just thinking the same thing." You laugh, feeling relieved at his confession. You liked Matthew, he seemed as though he would be good for you and treat you right, although you thought that Chanyeol would do the same and look how that turned out.

Beep

Matthew's pager beeps incessantly. He takes it from the waistband of his pants, checking the page and stands up abruptly. "I'm so sorry." He sighs. "I have to go, there was an accident and I'm needed in the OR." He explains.

"Go." You say, waving your hands to emphasize.

"I had a wonderful time Y/N, and I hope I get to see you again." He grins. He places down a few hundred bills on the table before kissing your hand, and with a wink he was off and your heart was pumping fast as red spreads across your cheeks.

Oh boy.

Your blush is still present as you walk through the door of your apartment. You see Baekhyun sitting on your couch with his arms crossed as he watches a show, not even acknowledging your presence.

"Why are you still here?" You ask, tossing your purse on the chair.

"I wanna hear all about Matthew." He mimics, rolling his eyes. "How was your date?"

"It was really nice. We have a lot in common, which is strange. He seems really nice and we get along amazingly. He was paged into surgery so it ended early." You tell him. "So cool."

"Oh wow, surgery huh?" Baekhyun says, nodding his head. "Did I tell you I'm auditioning for a band?" He smiles.

"Are you really?" You ask, a little shocked.

"Maybe." He says, clearing his throat, turning back to the show.

You sit beside him, you dress riding up just a little to expose your thigh. You're focused on the show, barely realizing that Baekhyun has now rested his hand on your bare thigh, his thumb lightly rubbing the same spot.

Why did you feel butterflies? Why was your pussy throbbing? It's probably just friendly, there's no way Baekhyun has feelings for you.

Right?

As the show played on, your eyes became increasingly droopy, feeling the exhaustion and excitement of today finally catching up with you. Your eyes slowly close as you lean your head back onto the couch.

You weren't sure when it happened, but you woke up, what you're assuming is a few hours later with your head on Baekhyun's lap while he gently rubbed your head, running his fingers through your hair. Your body shivered at the gentle sensation and you closed your eyes once again, feeling safe and happy as you dozed off.

When you woke up the next morning, you were laying on the couch, alone with a blanket draped over you. Your eyes searched your apartment and there was no sign of Baekhyun. You had no idea when he had left but a part of you felt a little hurt that he left without saying goodbye to you. You rolled yourself off the couch and shuffled into your room, changing your clothes to something more comfortable.

When you were done you made your way to the kitchen to find food when your front door opened. In walked Baekhyun with a large bag from your favorite food place.

"You didn't." You grin. "It's so far away."

"I did, and it was worth it to see the look on your face." He laughs, setting the bag down on the table.

The two of you sit down, and have breakfast together and chat. You hadn't realized that Baekhyun actually had a lot in common with you as well. You didn't know why the two of you had never talked about these things but you felt like it was a crazy coincidence that two men match with you so well. Although you knew Baekhyun's feelings were strictly platonic, there was no way that he felt anything romantically for you.

"I gotta go to work, but we'll hang out later, if you're up for it?" He asks, throwing his garbage away.

"Of course." You smile. You look in his eyes, his beautiful brown eyes and you just want to melt. You liked Baekhyun, alot. Maybe it was just from how good he's been treating you lately, or maybe the feelings were real, you would never know because you were going to focus on changing your feelings for Baekhyun to feelings for Matthew, someone you knew you actually had a chance with.

Later that day you were doing some work on your computer for the company you work for, luckily you're able to do your work from home, giving you plenty of time to be free during the day for activities. You're brought out of your zone by a text from Matthew, asking you if you wanted to grab a late lunch around 2pm, and immediately your mood changed, and you happily replied that you would love to.

At 1:50pm, you sat at the restaurant, a drink in front of you while you waited for Matthew. Seeing him walk through the door, your heart did a mini dance as he smiled at you, heading towards the table you had already gotten.

"Hey there beautiful." He grins, sitting across from you.

"Hi." You giggle. "How has your day been?"

"Busy and stressful, but that's all been forgotten now that I have you in front of me." He says. You smile widely, burying your head in your hands. He was so sweet, and you didn't know how to react to it. After the two of you order, you're in the middle of a conversation about a movie you had each recently watched, when out of the corner of your eye, you notice someone familiar. You look over and at a table that was too close for your liking sat Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Maya. Your attitude, demeanour and mood completely changed when you noticed them. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as you looked away. You look at Matthew who instantly looks concerned.

"What's wrong? Did I say something?" He asks, leaning in closely to whisper to you.

"T-that's my ex.. and the girl he chose over me, and his best friend who I'm still friends with." You whisper, nodding your head towards them.

Matthew discreetly looks over and notices the blonde man looking in your direction, pain in his eyes from the moment he saw you.

"Look at me." Matthew whispers. You look up at him, trying to control the tears. "That boy is an idiot for giving you up. You are one in a million. You're smart, funny, beautiful, caring and an all around amazing person to be around. Don't give them anymore of your tears, princess. They don't deserve them, and you don't deserve to cry over them." He smiles.

You sit up, taking a deep breath, smiling at the man across from you, staring at his beautiful smile. You glance over to the table and see Chanyeol staring at you, sadness in his eyes while Maya glares at you and Baekhyun, he stares at you with what seems like a look of anger. He glares in your direction, his face like stone and you had no idea what you did to make him so mad at you.

"Would you like to go somewhere else?" Matthew asks.

You nod your head, knowing you didn't want to be in the same restaurant as Mayeol, it was bad enough to have to be in the same city as them. Matthew grabs the check, escorting you out, his hand hovering over your backside as you walk out, the feeling of eyes watching you burning into your back as you exit the restaurant. You and Matthew stand outside your door, and he smiles at you. "I'm sorry about the date." He sighs.

"It wasn't your fault. If anything I should be sorry." You say.

"You did nothing wrong." He tells you. "I have to get back to the hospital now, but I'll call you." He says, leaning down he presses his lips to yours quickly before pulling away and saying goodbye.

You walk into your apartment, feeling a little confused. That didn't go how you imagined it at all. As you're trying to get out of your sundress, there's a knock at the door before someone walks in. You turn around and see Baekhyun standing there, watching you.

"You looked pretty comfortable and intimate with what's his name." He blurts out, walking towards you. He stands closely behind you, you can feel his breath on your neck as he pulls down the zipper of your dress.

"Yeah well you looked pretty comfortable with fucking Maya and Chanyeol." You retort, trying to storm away from him. Your dress slips off your body, landing on the floor. Baekhyun follows you, reaching out to grab your wrist. He spins you around to face him. He pulls your body closer to his.

"What do you want?" He asks. You don't answer, your lips parted as you try to form a sentence. Baekhyun's eyes drop down to your lips. He licks his lips and sighs. You can feel his breath, so close to you, almost kissing you. "What do you want from me, Y/N?" He asks.

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest. You look into his eyes, one word on the tip of your tongue.

You. Just say it. You want him. Tell him.

But you say nothing.

Baekhyun sighs. "That's what I thought." He says, moving away from you and picking up your dress from the floor. He hands it to you, leaning in to press his lips against your temple. "Call me when you know what you want." He says, walking away from you and out the door.

What did that mean? Did he want you like you wanted him? Why couldn't you have just told him right then and there?

You were scared. You were scared of rejection, you were scared he didn't mean it, maybe his feelings towards you weren't real. But then again, you would never know unless you talked to him.

Later that night you laid in your bed, thinking about Baekhyun. You couldn't sleep, so you grabbed your purse and your keys, drive aimlessly around town. A little while later, you glance at the clock that reads 2am, you park your car and you pull out your phone and call him. You felt like you were going to vomit as the phone rang.

"Hello?" A groggy voice answered.

"You." You whisper through the speaker. "I want you."

"Y/N." He breathes.

"Open the door, Baekhyun." You whisper.

You can hear him get out of bed and stomp towards the front door. He pulls it open and there you are, your phone pressed against your ear, wearing a nightshirt and shorts.

"I want you." You say again, pulling the phone away from your ear.

Baekhyun pulls you inside, slamming the door behind you before pinning you against the front door.

"Fuck it." He groans, crashing his lips against yours, pulling your body in closer to his. His hands roaming your body as he slides his tongue into your mouth. His hands move under your shirt and up your torso, cupping a bare breast. He groans into the kiss as he pinches your hard nipple, rolling it between his fingers. He presses his crotch into your leg, allowing you to feel his hard cock pushing against his boxers.

You reach your hand down, sliding it into his waistband, grabbing his cock and slowly pumping, making his knees buckle.

"Fuck." He murmurs, breaking the kiss. He leans his head into your neck, placing small kisses as you stroke his cock.

Suddenly he stands up straight, pulling your hand from inside his boxers. He grabs your hand and leads you to his bedroom.

"Take off your clothes." He growls.

You maintain eye contact as you slip your shirt off your body, dropping it to the floor and the shimmy off your shorts, letting them pool around your ankles. You stand there naked in front of Baekhyun who takes in every curve and crevasse of your body.

"Get on the bed." He whispers. You move to the bed, slowly climbing on and laying on your back.

"So fucking beautiful." He moans, crawling on top of you. "I just wanna be inside you." He whispers. You nod your head, giving him all the consent he needs.

Baekhyun spits on his hand, pumping his cock. He lifts your legs over his shoulder before lining him up with your entrance. He pushes himself into you, stretching your pussy out, making you cry out loudly.

It had been so long for you, you forgot what it felt like to be fucked. Your hands grip the bed sheets as Baekhyun slides his cock in and out of you slowly.

"How do you want it, baby?" He asks, moving slowly still.

"Faster." You moan. "Fuck me Baekhyun."

His eyes become dark after hearing your words. His hands wrap around your ankles as he starts thrusting harder into you, the sound of skin slapping fills the room.

"Oh god." You cry out, your hands cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples as he pumps his cock into you.

Baekhyun releases one of your legs, placing his thumb between your lips to rub your clit. He rubs in circles, making you clench around him.

"Just like that." You cry out as you buck your hips. You knew you were going to cum soon, you hadn't had an orgasm since Chanyeol left.

"Fuck." Baekhyun groans.

"I'm gonna cum." You scream as he fucks you harder, and continues to rub you.

Your orgasm hits you, making you scream out in pleasure, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you tighten around Baekhyun once again.

He groans loudly, suddenly cumming, shooting his load inside of you, breathing heavily as he works through his orgasm.

"Holy fuck." He sighs, pulling out of you. He lays next to you, and you snuggle into him, not caring about the mess, just being completely and utterly happy in the moment.

"So.." Baekhyun starts off the next morning, as you lay in his bed, tangled in his sheets. You have one leg and one arm sprawled across him as you snuggle in closer to him. "What about Matthew?" He asks.

"I called him yesterday after you left, and I told him I didn't think things were going to work out, but I would like to remain friends." You explain.

"And he was fine with that?" He asks.

"He asked if there was someone else." You sigh. "I told him I wasn't sure, but I hoped and he wished me luck."

"I didn't like you seeing him." Baekhyun admits. "It hurt but I felt like I couldn't do anything." He says.

"Why?" You ask.

"Because.. Chanyeol is my best friend and you were his." He tells you.

"Chanyeol made his decision, and he chose Maya. I'm free to date whoever I want, and I want you." You whisper.

"Oh baby girl." Baekhyun growls. "You have no idea what you do to me." He whispers, rolling over on top of you, pressing his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him in closer to you, never having felt so wanted or loved.

It has been a few months of you and Baekhyun dating, and you've kept it under wraps for the most part, wanting to stay in your little bubble of happiness. But now your friends were getting suspicious and you felt like it was time to tell them. And what other perfect time to tell them then at a dinner party that everyone is attending.

That night you and Baekhyun had brought a spinach and artichoke dip that you made together and it was the best thing ever. You told Jongdae and his wife the news first, and they were both extremely happy for the both of you.

Next, Minseok, Suho, Kyungsoo, Kai and Lay were told and they were all happy for you two, except Lay who was disappointed that things didn't work with Matthew, but he was happy that you were happy.

You all sat around the dinner table when Chanyeol, Sehun and Maya walked in. Things instantly got tense and quiet the minute they entered the room. They hadn't noticed you yet and you could feel the knots forming in your stomach.

"Hey guys." Chanyeol smiled, looking around the room and then his eyes landed on you and his smile dropped.

"Hi friends." Maya chirps up, not realizing you were there until Sehun pointed it out, quite loudly and rudely.

"Why is she here?" He asks, nodding his head towards you.

"Because she's our friend." Jongdae pipes up, glare at Sehun.

"It's just weird." Maya comments, sitting down at the table. You ball your hands into fists under the table. Baekhyun reaches under the table, grabbing your hand to calm you down, showing you he's there and has your back.

"It's not weird, actually." Baekhyun pipes up. "What's weird is coming to a gathering when you know no one here likes you. That's weird." He says, looking at Maya.

"Baek." Chanyeol sighs. "She's my girlfriend." He says, as if that's a good enough reason.

"Okay." Baekhyun says. "And she's mine." He says, nodding towards you. "So tell your girl to show some respect."

"You're what?" Chanyeol asks, staring at you and Baekhyun, not even acknowledging the fact that Maya is sitting there with her mouth open and offended. "You're dating my ex-girlfriend?"

"I am." Baekhyun says, not caring about Chanyeol's reaction anymore.

"You.. you can't do that." He says.

"And why not?" Baekhyun wonders. "You left her. You chose that over this amazing woman. You have no right to be angry here. You broke her, tore her apart and I'm putting the pieces back together."

"I don't want her here." Maya pouts.

"And no one wants you here." You chime in. You were tired of her and she had only been here for a few minutes.

"Chanyeol." She whines, nudging him but he's still not paying attention to her, only looking at you and Baekhyun.

"So.. what did you guys bring?" Lay asks, nodding towards their dish.

"Buffalo chicken dip." Maya says, with a smile.

You burst out laughing, rolling your eyes. "You mean you're still making the recipe that Chanyeol and I made together?" You ask with a smile on your face.

Maya's smile instantly drops, looking at you with disgust. "Chanyeol." She yells.

"What?" He snaps, turning to look at her.

"Do something." She whines.

"You don't have to do anything, man. We're gonna go. Thanks for having us, Jongdae. It's been interesting." Baekhyun says. He looks at you and holds out his hand. "Ready?" He asks you. You smile at him, taking his hand and walking out, hand in hand with the man who made you the happiest you've been.

A few days later you're in your apartment, singing and dancing as you clean up the place. You no longer missed Chanyeol, his name no longer brought pain to your heart, seeing things that reminded you of him no longer made you cry. You had Baekhyun now, and he treated you like a queen.

You're walking past your front door when you hear a faint knock. You open it slightly and see an exhausted looking Chanyeol standing on the other side.

"Can we talk?" He asks.

You didn't want to hear what he had to say, but you decided to be nice and let him in.

"What?" You ask, sitting on your couch as he stands in front of you.

"I fucked up." He blurts out. "I should have never chosen Maya over you. I didn't realize what I was doing at the time, Y/N, please forgive me. I miss you. I miss us. We were great together." He breathes.

You're shocked. You had spent weeks crying over him, wishing for him to come to you and say these words to you but now it was too late.

"You're a little too late now." You say to him.

"I know you're with Baekhyun, but I had you first." He says.

You scoff at him. "How dare you? How could you come here months after you left me for Maya and beg for me back when I'm finally happy again? It took a long time for me to be okay. Baekhyun has been there for me, he was the one who helped put me back together. You chose Maya. You made your bed." You yell. "Get out Chanyeol."

"Y/N please." He begs.

"No, you need to leave. I don't want you. I don't love you anymore." You tell him.

Chanyeol walks out the door, looking back at you with tears in his eyes. You felt no remorse for him. You had felt the way he was feeling, it was his own fault and you refused to be torn apart by him again. Chanyeol was now your past, and Baekhyun was your future and you couldn't be happier about it.

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gloryofluv · 3 years

Text

Manor with Manners: The Brothers Reaction to Meeting Your Family

The Brothers decide to invite your family over for a party in the human world. Your two younger siblings follow you. Your parents are amused… and the reactions of the crew are mixed.

(For the sake of the headcanon, you have two GN siblings.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Escorting your parents and younger siblings inside the manor, you stop a moment. “So, as I told you, the exchange program was a bit odd. Because they were in the middle of nowhere, they all have… particular personalities.”

Your parents nod with smiles. “I’m positive it will be fine. After all, if they went through all this trouble, they must be worth it.”

“Yes, they’re all excellent beings. I know I’ve told you about them, but meeting them, well, they can be a bit much,” you laugh and breathe before walking them into the party…

Knew about the plan for a while. He was hesitant to allow the blending of families. Diavolo was insistent, so there they were… entertaining your family. He’s incredibly pessimistic that something might go wrong.

He actually speaks to your parents the most out of the brothers. Talks about the exchange vaguely enough to make it seem plausible. Charming. Definitely pulls plenty of talented tidbits from his metaphoric cap. Your mother finds him responsible and handsome. Your father… Well, he thinks he’s quite refined. However, something about him… (Yeah, pops, he’s a powerful demon) Both are pleased with him. Checkmark for approval!

Watching you play with your younger siblings is a damn treat for him. He’d only seen you with his siblings, and suddenly, you were more than a fragile human. You were a leader. Tries to hide his blush as you call him ‘Lulu.’ Has a tough time not giving up his pride and scooping you in his arms.

Your siblings tease you about ‘k-i-s-s-i-n-g’ and mock you with noises when he kisses your cheek. Your blush and defensiveness reminded him so much of himself. Melted. Emotional. Completely gone for you. That was all it took for him to entirely give up the charade of distance and pull you aside, away from the fray, to kiss you and say how much he loves your beautiful heart.

Um. Scared of your parents. Really scared. Scared of Lucifer’s threats that you’ll never talk to them again if he messes it up too. Your mother is super nice, but your father scares the shit out of him. Poor bumbling demon. He doesn’t know where to start nor how to hold a conversation with either of your parents. Blushing mess.

Your siblings, now he’s got that! Cute little you with little children to make their minions! They’re young enough to coach, come on, it will be fun, right? Definitely likes being called ‘The Great Mammon’ by them. Chaotic and all about the games, quickly convinces your siblings into a game in the pool, then asks about you when you’re not around.

He adores you and later on would wrap his arms around your shoulders and kiss your cheek. No fumbling words or phrases. He would just smile a rare and genuine and pure smile. If you’re by his side, he’s the happiest demon alive and would do anything to make your family happy too.

Has a hard time even looking at your parents. It isn’t until your mother approaches him and compliments his sweater that he stares at her, a blushing mess. He then carefully explains why he chose the sweater, and your mother brings him over to your father. They’re gentle and ask about all his hobbies. He was shy, but they must have known that.

How he saw you with your siblings made him a little jealous. You would pick them up, laugh with them and play games. He wanted your attention. Your care. You. The envy began to fade when you invited him to play one of the human console games they brought. It was some party game! Oh! So much fun!

He was competitive but noticed you weren’t playing to win. You let your siblings and him win. Which caused the children to cheer and laugh. Oh! You were such a good sibling and honorable like Henry! His Henry.

He eventually shows your siblings TSL and his collection. He now gained two normie humans that were related to you as fans. They followed him around, asking questions about TSL, which actually made him feel so special!

Doesn’t outwardly approach your parents at first. He stations himself comfortably with a book at his side and watches the interactions. It is your father to approach him first, asking about the novel. Ah, a mystery lover? They hold a small conversation about human mystery and thriller authors, which Satan happily continues. Your mother comes over after a bit and asks him all about his passions. He’s a nerd, but they seem intrigued. Satan is great at masking charm, and your parents aren’t immune.

He enjoys watching you with your siblings. It’s a true insight into how you became so comfortable with him and his brothers. That steals his heart. He figuratively could rip it out and hand it to you. You were so good that he just needed it all the time in his life. Your siblings were wary of him until he began talking about cats.

Yep. Apparently, your siblings love cats too! Showing them all the pictures he had of cats was a highlight of his day. Hearing the gasps and sighs of the children as he showed off cute kittens in the Devildom. (Of course, you couldn’t tell it was the Devildom unless you’d been there). That was how he won over your siblings.

Expect secluded stolen kisses throughout the evening. He adores the person you are wholeheartedly, and seeing you with your family was a treat. A reminder that you had a choice on whether to love him and his brothers, and you do.

Doesn’t mind walking right up to your mother and giving compliments on her wardrobe and hair. Definitely slides in how she is aging well and how he knew how you got your good looks. Your father clearly finds him the most fascinating of his brothers. Not because of anything other than the mile-a-minute bubbly attitude. Your parents were both given excellent styling and self-care tips.

Cute little mini yous. Yep. He loves your siblings. He loves how you are with your siblings. Doesn’t want to run around, but if you want… fashion montages and a makeup party?? Oh, yes, completely! Keeps it PG around the little ones. Don't even mind that one of your siblings called him excitedly weird. (It’s a compliment, and he’ll take it!)

He actually doesn’t get all lovey-dovey with your family around. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he convinced Solomon to do a mock magic show for your siblings and was his assistant. Razzle dazzle in a sparkling dress? Oh, yes! However, you do owe him a kiss when they leave. After all, he did it for you!

You introduce him to your parents. Not because he didn’t want to meet them, but he was actually concerned. His worries consist of hunger, disappointing you, and hurting your family. (Sweet boi, just hug him, okay??) Your father shakes his hand and smiles while asking about his sports career. Your mother is just stunned at the sheer multitude of his form. He explains a little and smiles but mostly thanks them for having such a great child. Cue heart eyes and big smiles from your parents.

Your siblings are fascinated with the giant. They ask him tons of questions and actually begin bringing him food between them. They are enthralled with how much he could eat! Beel just smiles and lifts them up when they ask. They also ask him to lift heavier things, and it becomes a game. Soon he is lifting sofas and chairs with them sitting on them. Unfortunately, Lucifer tells him to stop.

He will do anything you want during the party. The most attentive to you as far as what you need to make your family happy. Your mother even slyly asks if you were thinking of dating him because he’s just the sweetest they’d ever met. He doesn’t kiss you or become overly affectionate, but he will be by your side for as long as you want him to be.

Not truly enthused about the whole family thing. Drank six cups of coffee before the party to attempt to stay awake. It’s your mother that approaches him at the window first. He’s looking out at the stars and explains such when she asks. She asks him about the constellations, and that’s when he opens up. Your father trails over and listens to him explain why certain constellations are visible at this time of the year.

It was a detailed conversation, and everything from his grades to his sleeping disorder comes up. (Sleeping disorder, which you explained to your parents obviously) He actually enjoys your parents' company but doesn’t try to put on charm or pazazz for them. They just like him for the interesting conversation and tell him so.

He does not like children. Not usually. However, that being said, he likes your siblings. They drag him outside to hear about the stars, and all of you lay in the grass after dinner. He’s nearly snoozing but points out different constellations and tells them the stories (PG and cleaned up) about each. It does help that all of you see a shooting star, and he tells them to wish really hard for something. Yep, they absolutely adore him.

Throughout the evening, he checks in with you and makes sure you're not stressed. He hugs you plenty, and when you’re sitting, he’ll lean against your shoulder and snooze. This demon is a Class A Clinger and won’t let you have a bad time or be upset by anything. Expect snuggles and cuddles when your family leaves.

#om! headcanons #obey me headcanons #om! hcs #om! fluff #obey me humor #obey me brothers #om! brothers #om! lucifer #om! mammon #om! asmodeus #om! satan #om! leviathan #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor #obey me fandom #obey me mc

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mcyt-imagines · 3 years

Text

TommyInnit Confession HCs

This is a combination of an imagine and some headcanons, this is a new way of writing for me so let me know if you enjoyed this format!

- Tommy realising he loves the reader and how he’d confess to them -

Tommy definitely would deny being interested in the reader in the beginning.

It would probably be a natural progression of feelings but tommy just wouldn’t realise it until WAY too late.

Like he just catches himself thinking about them when he’s just doing schoolwork and chores. And then he’s aware of just how much his mind wanders to them. Far too often in his humble opinion.

He lays hints about his crush when talking with Tubbo. He’s real defensive about it though. “You much of a ladies man Tubbo?” Trying to discretely get advice without actually asking for any. And Tubbo being Tubbo means he completely missed all the hints Tommy was dropping. (Not that Tommy’s hints were any good)

His stream for sure notices a change in his behavior, more scatterbrained showing visible signs of stress maybe a little more irritable too. Tubbo definitely notices the changes too and asks him about it.

Tubbo would probably ask tommy on stream or in private something along the lines of. “What’s up Tommy, you’ve been kinda uh, distracted lately…”

Tommy for suuuuuure blushes and stutters out a response that even Tubbo doesn’t buy. (So instead he talks to Tubbo about it off stream, doesn’t mention his crushes name, but he keeps Tubbo in the loop. Tubbo finds the whole thing very funny because of how defensive Tommy gets in response, however he offers his support to Tommy, obviously. “Even though I have no experience with romance Tommy. I’ll do my best to be the best wingman ever!” With a salute to Tommy on his webcam. Tubbo quickly leaves the call saying he needs to do some ‘research’ (he puts the word in quotation marks with a wink)

Tommy would be a stubborn flustered MESS if stream ever figured out that he was crushing on someone.

And of course they find out because Tubbo slips up and mentions Tommy having a crush.

By that point he is absolutely CONSUMED by his thoughts about the reader as the more he tries to not think about them the more he wishes he was with them.

He also would 10000% be ignoring or avoiding his crush for as long as possible because he knows he wouldn’t be able to utter a single word to their face. His usual ‘big man’ façade would be in absolute shambles if he were around the reader during this time.

There would be a lot of internal and external swearing from Tommy when he finally realises and accepts that he likes you though.

However, this acceptance doesn’t make him any less stressed because now he needs to figure out whether he is even going to tell you!

But he knows he can’t keep living like this as he can’t keep avoiding his crush forever. And he knows the next time he sees you he knows his heart is going to literally burst out of his chest. And he won’t be able to stop himself. So, he devises a plan.

He gets a pep talk from Tubbo in which they help brainstorm his confession plan but he finds himself messaging Wilbur one late night after his stream. “Hey, can I get some advice?” Wilbur is shocked. “Tommyinnit asking ME for advice? Never thought I’d see the day.”

Wilbur teases him for a short while surely. But when Tommy finally puts his pride aside and tells Wilbur about his crush he sobers up quick and dishes out some solid advice and support for Tommy. “In exchange for my services I better be meeting this crush of yours Tommy.” “You got it big man.”

After speaking with Wilbur Tommy feels as if he can finally breathe for the first time in weeks since he first started to realise his feelings for the reader.

CONFESSION DAY!

Tommy sends the reader a text in the mid-morning asking if they wanted to hang out sometime later today. Also apologizing for how ‘busy’ he’s been the last few weeks using schoolwork or chores as his excuse.

He’s furiously texting Tubbo the WHOLE time he’s waiting for a reply from them. Tubbo pulls Tommy onto Minecraft to try and take his mind off the situation. Offline of course, Tommy would not be able to handle streaming right now.

Even Wilbur sends him a few messages to check in, jumping on discord to give his ear for Tommy to chew off. Which he most definitely does.

Eventually his phone dings and Tommy DIVES for it. “THEY SAID YES!” Both Wilbur and Tubbo groan from Tommy’s mic peaking with his screech.

Tommy waits for a few minutes before replying per Tubbo’s request. “I read it online! You don’t want to seem too into them.” He proclaims with false authority as Wilbur chuckles in the background of the call.

The rest of the afternoon blurs for Tommy as he stays on call with Wilbur and Tubbo as they do their best to distract his overactive mind.

However, as the clock ticks on he knows he needs to start getting ready or he’s going to be late.

Wilbur demands that he choose Tommy’s outfit. So for the next half hour Tommy proceeds to perform a free fashion show for the two, only for Phil to join for a short while to give his two cents before going back to his stream.

Eventually Wilbur settles on what he dubbed “-a classic Tommyinnit look-” one of his favourite red shirts paired with one of his nicer black jackets and the dark charcoal pants his mum had made him get a few months ago for a wedding. They are very uncomfortable.

Tommy heaves a sigh as he thanks Wilbur and Tubbo for sticking around with him today. They both send him away, “Good luck Tommy!” “Go get ‘em big man.”

Tommy had agreed to meet the reader at the park, he thought dinner would have been a bit much. Wilbur and Tubbo both agreed on that front. This park was right near the water, so it had a great view of the sunset. He was still pretty chuffed about that fact, his chat was sooo wrong, he could be romantic if he wanted to after all.

Of course, he was a little late. He repeatedly told his mum to speed. She refused of course. His mother of course had noticed exactly what this ‘hang out’ was and had quizzed him about his crush the night prior.

“Don’t leave the car mum.” Tommy was quick to warn her, he did not want her to be anywhere near them. She didn’t need any more dirt on him to embarrass him with. She could end his whole streaming career in an instant if she wanted. A truly terrifying thought.

Tommy was quick to move near the waterfront puffing slightly, nose a tinge pink with the oncoming chilly wind from the lake. “Hey Tommy.” Tommy would freeze instantly before quickly turning with a forced smile, a little too big for his face. “Hey!”

His crush would lead Tommy over to the nearby bench they had been sitting on before he arrived. And they would definitely sit closer to Tommy than he would have wanted.

Tommy would be so obvious. Stuttering over his words, a LOT of frantic hand movements whenever he’s speaking to them.

Mid-conversation his crush starts to laugh. “Tommy I think I’ve figure out why you have been ‘busy’ recently.” Tommy stills immediately, sweat dripping off of him in POOLS. “H-Huh!?” He makes a noise in the back of his throat that he has NEVER made before.

This seems to only make his crush laugh more, they turn fully to him and take one of his clammy hands. He quickly goes to yank it from their grip knowing how sweaty it is. But their grip is strong, and surprisingly calm in contrast to his shaking hands. He gulps simply staring at the spot where their hands are touching. “Tommy.” His gaze snaps up to their smiling face hiding slight worry. “Breathe.” And he finally does. His tense shoulders drop, and their hand leaves his. And suddenly he’s laughing harder than he ever has before realizing how ridiculous he’s being right now. And when he looks over, so is his crush.

The conversation from that point on flows naturally as the two finally begin to catch up after not seeing each other for a few weeks.

Tommy finally realises how comfortable they make him feel. He simply stares at them as they speak. Awed that it took him this damn long to figure out he liked them.

His crush stops talking, noticing him staring. He jumps out of his thoughts, “Hey Tommy, take a picture it’ll last longer.” And suddenly he’s sweating all over again as they laugh.

His crush is having the time of their life watching ‘big man’ Tommy squirm beside them. Trying his best to scrounge up the courage to say something, anything to them.

They open their mouth to speak when suddenly Tommy yells, “I LIKE YOU!”

Tommy isn’t even looking at them, he has his eyes squeezed shut and he thrusts his arm outwards holding something which promptly shoves into his crush’s chest. Effectively winding them.

They wheeze in response, “Me too. Don’t know why though goD!” They push out through gasps of air, pressing a hand to their chest. Pain beginning to subside as Tommy realises he literally just punched his crush.

His jaw drops and his silence continues as they take what was in his hands. A small book.

A scrapbook.

His crush’s face softens as they flip through the photos, memories flooding back to them of days long gone by.

Tommy stayed up all night yesterday just to finish the final details on the scrapbook, it isn’t the most aesthetically pleasing thing. (Even he knows that) But he put his heart and soul into it.

“Very sweet of you Tommy. But I didn’t bring anything for you…” They end up mumbling in response. Tommy only grins. “So you like it?” They scoff and finally pull Tommy in for a hug. He stills for a moment, then melts into their hold.

Tommy mumbles his apology for literally punching them into his crush’s hair. They giggle into his chest in response, letting him know that it’s fine, they’re okay. Tommy mumbles something incoherent into their hair and presses a cautionary kiss to the top of their head.

“AWWWWW!” A loud noise comes from behind their bench. Tommy and his crush dive apart only to see Tommy’s mum hidden behind a nearby tree.

“MUUUUUUUUUM!” Tommy screeches as his crush cackles out a laugh.

Tommy’s mum ends up driving his crush home as well, they sit in the back seat of the car holding hands.

“This didn’t go at all how I’d planned…” Tommy complains with a deep pout. “Oh really? Your plan didn’t involve punching me? Huh?” Their crush sniggers at him.

“Oh! His real plan-“ His mother starts and in order to cut her off Tommy just starts yelling at the top of his lungs “Nononono!!”. Causing his crush to burst into laughter as the two try to increase their volumes to drown out the other.

His crush shakes their head with a grin and wonders what the hell they’ve just gotten themselves into.

#tommyinnit #tommy x reader #mcyt headcanons #mcyt imagines #mcyt x reader #tommy mcyt

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thranduilsperkybutt · 3 years

Photo

Killer

Gif sources: 1 | 2 | 3

Pairings: Baron Helmut Zemo/Reader

Warnings: TFATWS Spoilers! Hurt/comfort, slight angst but hopeful ending, a little bit of spice 🤏 but it’s still solidly SFW and mostly near the end; insignificant character death; canon violence; Zemo being a menace not only to my heart but my mental health

Word Count: 11,932 words

Reader Gender: Female

Author: Meg

Summary: While tracking the Flag Smashers across Europe alongside Sam and Bucky, you suddenly find yourself in need of a hero. The man who comes to your rescue, however, is the villain of too many people’s stories to ever be mistaken for one. The lines between what is and what should be become blurrier, making it too easy to forget that you aren’t supposed to like Baron Helmut Zemo at all.

A/N: Based on a simple sentence my friend said in the middle of us both simping over Zemo together, which inspired a novel lolol 😂 Whoops! Sorry I’m so long-winded, but I hope you guys like this anyway!

Oh, this was not good.

So very, very not good.

A twisting grip on your arm, pain shooting up your shoulder and from the side where the knee of the supersoldier atop you digs into the flesh of your hip, pinning you down. Cement bites into your cheek like a taunt of the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into when he slams you into the ground. Wind knocked out of you, you feel the painful strain in your joints, and know that if your arm is pushed too much further at this sharp angle, it’s likely your shoulder will come out of socket.

A whimpered yelp that you can’t bite down escapes just as the supersoldier’s grip tightens when you struggle beneath him, desperate panic lacing your blood as you realize you can’t escape his grip. You remember the sight of the back of Sam and Bucky’s heads when they went off towards the east side of this warehouse, and for a brief moment you wonder if that’s the last you’ll see of them. Splitting up had been the last thing you wanted to do, but the maze of this place made it a necessity if you were to do the thorough sweep of the area for the group of Flag Smashers rumored to be taking shelter here.

Well, you found them, alright.

Why did you have to be the one to get stuck searching the west side with Zemo?

The reluctance you’d displayed when Sam initially split you up with Zemo wasn’t exactly one-hundred percent truthful, though, was it? God, maybe it made you stupid and foolish, but a secret, cursed part of your stomach had flipped with nervous anticipation at the thought of being entirely alone with him. Something which had only been accomplished briefly over these past few days of tracking the Smashers all over Europe.

A subtle glance in Zemo’s direction had revealed no such similar reaction on his part, his stare meeting yours. Distant and unreadable, is what he was.

Except for when he wasn’t. Distant, that is.

Except for when he treated you with a modicum of civility. No, you couldn’t even fool yourself into believing it was simple civility, or even whatever traditional ingrained gentlemanliness that a Baron of Sokovia would have been taught in his youth.

Zemo had treated you with something more than that, especially when no one else was looking.

Sometimes, even if they were, and you still hadn’t decided if that dangerous toeing of the line between animosity and flirtation was a manufactured tactic to manipulate you or not. Uncertain if you should be offended that Zemo figured you the weakest link of your companions, or if, in the case that his interest was genuine… it wasn’t, so no use dwelling on what you would do in that case.

What you should do, when he set upon you with that look in his eye, like he knew something about you that you didn’t.

Like at the end of Sam’s introductory speech detailing the plan of the warehouse sweep, where that lingering glance in Zemo’s direction had ended with a slight curve of his lips upwards. Looking bizarrely satisfied with the announcement of Sam’s plan, and you couldn’t tell if it was at the thought of hunting supersoldiers, or the strange, treacherous feeling swimming in your own gut--- that Zemo’s pleasure was even minimally at the truth of another opportunity to have you, all to himself.

It had been enough to make you tear your eyes away, but not enough to get his lingering stare to stop itching the back of your neck. Enough to make Bucky raise a brow at you, a wary look in his eyes as he observed the one member of your party who seemed at all pleased with the fact that you were all likely heading into a fight, or worse, nothing at all, in mere moments. A warning simmered in blue, Bucky’s unspoken, “be careful,” resting on the solemn line of his frown.

You’d been told it enough in the past few days, to be careful of Zemo. Terrorist, criminal, killer--- a portion of the words they’d used to describe Zemo.

At first, you were acutely aware of the warnings you’d been given, of the story they’d told you. The same one you’d heard pieces of from different sources. What had happened in Bucharest was national news, but to think that the man who had sat across from you on his private plane, tension thick in the air while a smile rested on his own lips, had been responsible… it had churned your stomach at first. Sitting there in his finery, attended by a footman, he seemed a strange visual for the description that predated your formal introduction to him.

And you had excused yourself to the bathroom, if only to escape the feeling. The animosity of Bucky’s conversation and the tension in Sam’s shoulders, the weight of curious eyes, which always seemed to glance back towards you.

He was unnerving, if only because of how peculiarly normal he seemed in certain moments. Approachable. Amiable, even. A predator’s façade, meant for you to wonder if he had truly been the kind of man capable of terrorizing Bucharest and your friends the way he had.

Which was how he looked at you, just like a predator sizing up new prey.

The quaint jet washroom could not be your solace forever, and you were inevitably forced to emerge, or face the embarrassment of worrying your companions with an abnormally long bathroom break. When you emerged, however, you found the murmured conversation to be of a slightly lighter tone, and soon discovered the reason for it when you nearly walked straight into the chest of the man you’d gone to the restroom to escape.

“Apologies,” he had said, as if you were not the one who almost ran straight into him, amusement dancing in his eyes as his body easily blocked the narrow aisle towards where Sam and Bucky sat further in. They’d not yet noticed your emergence from the restroom, and your hoped your quick glance towards them had not looked too desperate. Torn back to Zemo with the startling shock that he would even offer, “Would you enjoy a drink? I was just on my way to get a refill, you see,” he raised the short glass in his hand, ice clinking, empty otherwise. Your pause was pregnant enough that he eventually teased, “I promise not to poison you, if that is your concern, my dear.”

“No, thank you,” had been your curt answer, pushing down the heat that threatened to burn your cheeks at his familiarity with you when you attempted to move around him, forced by the narrow aisle to graze his chest with yours in order to return to the attention of your companions, ignoring the additional attention which had followed you from the aisle.

The outfit you discovered he had chosen for you upon landing on the outskirts of Madripoor was… just another reason to dislike him. The one relief was that it was comfortable enough to fight or run in, if need be, but nothing about it was sensible in the least. What the outfit lacked in cleavage, it made up for in its form-fitting style, leaving little to the imagination otherwise. You felt as if every inch was on display for the perusal of whoever simply cast their eyes upon you, regardless of how you would tug and pull at the fabric in an attempt to make certain areas less focal.

And then there was what he’d said about it, humming appreciatively when you emerged from the jet just after Bucky and Sam to be offered a hand by Zemo at the last step, if only to scrutinize you in this ridiculous outfit as you equally scrutinized him, donned in a fur-trimmed jacket that you reluctantly had to admit made him look… handsome, “Good. In that, you shall make a believable lover.”

You’d almost tripped that last step at his words, despite the firm grip keeping you upright, eyes wide as you heard Bucky choke on his own spit before collecting himself.

Zemo paused long enough that you think he simply enjoyed watching whatever conclusions you were jumping to flash upon your face until he clarified, just as you opened your mouth to demand an explanation, wishing there was some way to wipe the smirk from his lips, “Not my lover, of course,” a gesture towards Sam, “but that of our friend, the Smiling Tiger.” His smirk broke out into a proper grin as you snatched your hand from his, realizing your form complimented Sam’s own ridiculous outfit, as Zemo addressed him, “The source of your alias is known for philandering various women. Seeing the Smiling Tiger with another woman has become somewhat expected.”

“He takes different women with him, even to do business?” Sam raised a brow.

Zemo chuckled slightly, “Certainly not.”

“What am I supposed to be doing tonight if I’m not going to meet the contact with the rest of you?” jutting your chin out, you cross your arms over your chest, if only to attempt to appear as if Zemo didn’t utterly disarm you with the slip of his attention back to you, “I’m not here to stand around and look pretty, you know.”

“Although I’m certain you would excel at that,” Zemo had purred, your poker face almost breaking under the shock of his forwardness, wondering if he simply enjoyed toying with you--- if perhaps you were an easier read than you thought, “Madripoor is full of dangers, but no one would dare bother a woman who belonged to the Smiling Tiger. It is typically assumed that these women pose no threat in and of themselves, considering his habit of picking shallow, frivolous women who rarely realize they are not the only of their kind in his orbit. This assumption will offer you the perfect position to scout the outskirts of our interaction for anyone unsavory, who might try and interrupt us during our business tonight.” He reached out, pushing your hair from your shoulder, and you took effort not to flinch back at the ghost of a touch on your bare skin, “While you will undoubtedly draw the eyes of many, none who are searching for a potential threat will linger on you long.” Zemo’s teeth flashed with his smile, his hand returning to his side, delving into the pocket of his coat leisurely when he shrugged, “You are simply another beautiful woman on the arm of a dangerous man tonight. That is nothing new in Madripoor.”

“And just how loving is Smiling Tiger with his girlfriends?” Sam huffs, and you wondered if the apologetic look he cast your way was for Zemo’s behavior, or what would undoubtedly be his own tonight.

Striding forward towards the waiting car, Zemo glanced over his shoulder as he passed your companion, “Very. You might want to warm up to each other rather quickly, if that is to be an issue.”

But you’d done worse undercover before, and a night of flirting on the arm of Sam Wilson was the least of your worries, so you mimicked the shrug Zemo had given you, and fell into step beside Sam, “No problem.”

Sam nodded, “None for me, either.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Bucky agreed with a clench of his jaw, marching after Zemo towards the car, and you remembered that whatever you had to endure tonight, would probably be only a fraction of the discomfort Bucky would feel at reliving his Winter Soldier days.

Even if it wasn’t real.

Part of you yearned for the weight of Sam’s hand in yours, his breath tickling your neck where he had kissed it for show, upon being left alone at the bar in this strange Babylon that was the Low Town of Madripoor. Not that you were incapable of defending yourself, but you were outnumbered--- really, you all were.

And you preferred for your only intel on the region to not have come from the single man in your company who you knew you couldn’t trust. Zemo’s word that no one would bother you, alone, in this ridiculous outfit, simply because they’d seen Sam--- or, the Smiling Tiger, as he was tonight--- all over you? Well, it wasn’t enough to put your mind at ease.

You tried to hide that unease behind the drink in your hand, thankful that you’d been given something fruitier and less daring than the drink Zemo had ordered for Sam, as your eyes scanned the bar, catching where the three of them had disappeared into the unknown of the one area you could not enter.

Technically, you could, but you’d have to take out the four--- no, five--- guards lingering in the main chamber of the bar, before doing so. You couldn’t do that without starting a scene, though, and there was no reason to do so until absolutely necessary.

Pushing away from the bar, your only indication of what was going on past those burly statues of guards flanking the way beyond was the sound of the earpiece in your ear, shaded from view by your hair. A whisper, compared to the throbbing music around you, but just loud enough with its closeness to make out the conversation you weren’t otherwise privy to. It was going well enough, as you moved throughout the bar, ensuring your counted five guards remained in their positions, with their relaxed posture, and counting a sixth one as he returned from the direction of the restrooms.

Some tried to stop you, to get you to dance with them, but a simple name of your alleged lover had sent them on their way easily enough. So perhaps Zemo had not been entirely untruthful, it seemed.

Then, the meeting had turned sour. Going south fast, and you watched as the two guards flanking your companion’s escape tilted towards their bulky earpieces, but you were on them before they could go further within, to where you now heard fighting in your own subtle earpiece.

Doing your best to sound like a bubbly drunk, you draped yourself between them, obstructing their path, “Oh, is this the way to the bathroom?” You were two steps into the hall, when one grabbed you by the arm, the other attempting to walk around you, but you easily blocked the way as you tumbled yourself into his arms, apparently losing your footing at the tug on your arm, “You don’t have to be so rough!”

“Get out the way, lady, this isn’t the bathroom,” the one whose arms you were haphazardly steadied with grunted, and you watched as the other slipped past you towards the beyond, his partner following close behind.

But by then you were halfway across the bar in a quick stride, hearing the hushed, “Meet us outside, we’re going out the back,” that Bucky murmured, just for you.

“No weapons,” Zemo added curtly. “We are not ready to cause a scene, my dear.”

The threatening chime of the phones around as you hit the front doors and pushed beyond, only to find that the clinging followed you even there, lifted up by the chill and stink of Madripoor’s Low Town air, had you growling out, “Looks like that scene’s already started, whether or not you want it to, Baron.”

You caught sight of them up ahead, walking just as briskly down the side-street, and nearly had to run to catch up to their pace. By the time you did fall into step beside Sam, the neon glow of the bar at your back went black with a heart-stopping shunt, right before the gunfire started.

Your only relief as Sam pushed you down with his ducking, was that whoever was firing the automatic weapon was not a good shot. Then, you ran.

But, from the corner of your eye, you saw the flap of a long coat, the swivel on firm calves, as Zemo turned to the side, and escaped beyond the adjacent alley, and, right then, you thought that would be the last you saw of him. Yet, you couldn’t be concerned with hunting him down, what with the gunfire coming from all directions, straight at you, Sam, and Bucky. Allowing the perfect moment for Zemo to slip away.

As you ran, heart pounding and barely registering the sound of your companion’s voices, you almost laughed bitterly with the hysteria of the chaos around you, and the thought that maybe Zemo had created it just to escape. Whether he did or not, it certainly worked to his advantage, and the rev of motorcycle engines biting at your heels reminded you that, like it or not, you couldn’t worry about where he had gone, down that side-street, at the current moment.

Blindly following Sam, who was blindly following Bucky, down the alleys of Low Town, you turned the next corner as a shot rang out. Not the same, quick bursts of an automatic, but rather, the loud, resounding hollowness of a sniper’s bullet.

Air brushing against your cheek, the deathly kiss of wind as the bullet moved past your head, and straight into the motorcyclist behind you. You barely breathed as the second, then third shot rang true, and your pursuers fell dead on the slick, black wetness that was Madripoor’s alley streets.

Just as Zemo emerged from the opposite end of the street, catching your bewildered stare as his own, matching confusion, accompanied a breathless, “You seem to have a guardian angel.”

Even by looking at her, you could tell Sharon Carter was anything but your guardian angel.

Madripoor had changed her. The events which had trapped her here had done even worse. Something bitter and estranged lingered under each word the former agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. said as she presented her story for the four of you. Enough to make you wary of her intentions, regardless of how helpful she may have seemed.

Despite the fact you had known her, when you, too, once worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Well, this is just too perfect,” were her first words, when she’d come upon the four of you in that alleyway.

Too perfect, was right. Her High Town home, her art gallery full of stolen things, the undisclosed clientele she apparently kept, and expected, resulting in your hasty changing of clothes. It all was too perfect, even down to her tragic story of exile from the States. Something was off, but you had too much to worry about to concern yourself with picking apart the story of your host, your momentary refuge provided by her hand.

You wondered if Bucky could sense it, too, when he said, “She’s kind of awful now,” following her abrasive callousness in detailing the hypocrisy of heroism.

If not him, then perhaps the look Zemo sent your way could confirm your suspicions, but he buried it down behind the glass of whatever hard liquor he had acquired in her too perfect home. Nagel, Wilfred Nagel was who you should have been focusing on, rather than the question you nearly dared to ask Zemo right there, as Sam offered Sharon a pardon that you all knew relied on too many bureaucrats to ever be a certain promise.

The longer Zemo held your gaze, the less you concentrated on the conversation around you, until something of a party was mentioned, and the low promise of the, “Trouble,” that Sharon would find parted Zemo’s lips. You could believe that, more than whatever Sam had promised her.

The art gallery had taken on the atmosphere of a club, rather than some simple party. Music throbbed, louder than that of the bar earlier in the night, pulsing bodies to move in tandem with the beat of the sound. Veins, stretching out from the same, beating heart.

But further in, past the stage and the DJ, was a viewing of priceless art, which was certain to be priced and sold tonight. The business Sharon was conducting, the contacts she’d said she would work for information on Nagel’s location, were undoubtedly among the people gathered there.

Waiting around was rarely enjoyable.

Your group moved towards the open bar, but none of you looked to the bartender for a drink. Zemo’s eyes affixed along the dancefloor, surveying, as much as Sam or Bucky were. If someone were to look closely enough, in that moment, that simple glance would give away their training. Your eyes, however, traveled past them, catching the questioning glance Bucky sent your way as you moved to separate and disperse into the crowd of writhing bodies around you.

“I’m going to dance,” was your only explanation. If the three of them had not seen some potential threat in those few moments of surveying, then it likely wasn’t there.

Either way, Sharon had said, “Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party,” before sending you on your way.

That much, you could oblige her with.

Considering the dancefloor was a great percentage of the party, dancing also allowed you to survey the room without looking like you were gawking. Thankful to be back in your own clothes, the black on black and buckles of your light tactical wear fit in appropriately with the variety of party-goers around you. Tempo flaring, sweat and alcohol, adrenaline rushing your veins, for a moment you found you were enjoying yourself, after the initial sweep of the dancefloor had come up empty of threats. Or, well, anything that was immediately threatening to you.

Which is why you could have kicked yourself for letting what might have been the biggest threat in the room creep up on you, in that brief moment of thrumming ecstasy.

His hand caught in the buckled strap at your waist, pulling you into a firm back, not unlike other dancers around you had, but his breath smelled of bourbon as it ghosted your cheek, and the accented voice at his lips was enough to have you whirling in his arms, “Do you mind if I dance with you?”

In your defense, the last you’d seen of Zemo had been moments ago, across the bar as he perused the artwork with Sam and Bucky. You could hardly believe he’d crossed the room as quick as he had--- quick enough to catch you off-guard.

“What?” you question blandly, the mixture of unease and shock churning into something else that you wouldn’t dare admit as he offered a dazzling smile, and you suddenly realized you were still standing far too close, with the growing crowd around you.

He mistook your confusion for difficulty hearing over the blaring music, and leaned closer, to catch you by the ear, “Dance with me.” Not a question, this time.

He was close enough you could smell his cologne--- a rich scent, peppered with cinnamon, which had you wondering just how much he had paid for the bottle of whatever it was, or if it had been something Sokovian from before the fall. It was unlike anything you’d scented before. He even smelled expensive.

For a second time, you almost jumbled his question, though not from shock. The heat rising to your cheeks and the skip in your chest, you couldn’t convince yourself was entirely from the dancing or the light drink you’d had earlier in the evening.

His own cheeks were faintly pink, upon closer inspection, but otherwise there was no evidence in his smooth posture of the multiple glasses of liquor he’d had tonight, yet it’s enough to make him look warm--- perhaps not as cold as he once had appeared.

Human.

“We are to enjoy ourselves, are we not?” he suggested, as if that would push you toward one answer over another, and it worked.

“Yes,” your lips said it before your mind caught up with them, and his smile widened into a grin, as brief as it was.

“Then, dance, my dear.”

His own dancing was rigid, but he kept beat. Small movements which would not draw attention from anyone, yet were somehow the barest ability required to be considered dancing. As if he had little experience dancing to club music like this, though you couldn’t be sure. It was almost comical, yet no-one could laugh at him, since he miraculously managed to pull it off.

Well, you, at least, were able to bite back a chuckle at the sight of him. Something about it, about him, in that moment, dancing so awkwardly yet with so much confidence, brought a genuine smile to your face, as you danced alongside him.

And when he gestured in a round motion with his hand for you to spin, you did that, too, without a second thought. It was easy to forget, for only a second, when your eyes caught his in the strobing light and the smile upon his face, his hands coming together to clap for you in time with the pulsing beat between you, just who he was, and what he’d done.

Far too easy to forget.

But one glance towards the edges of the dance floor has you remembering, as you caught the movement of Bucky and Sam following after the slip of Sharon’s form. Bucky’s eyes bored into you, his jaw clenched. Displeasure written on his face, and you don’t think the sake of blending in would be enough to excuse your dancing with Zemo, or the enjoyment with which you’d done it.

“Perhaps, she has found our missing Doctor Nagel,” Zemo’s form was too close, all over again, and this time you do step away from him, if only a single step. It’s enough to breathe, to clear your head of whatever had overcome you moments before. He’s too busy looking after their three retreating forms to notice the guilt catching at the back of your throat, suffocating you for barely a second.

You ensure any proof of the feeling settling in your gut was gone by the time he cast his eyes towards you, the brown of his irises nearly black in the lowlight of a High Town party, but you didn’t keep his stare long, “Let’s find out.”

The sun was dawning when you emerged onto the street, and reached over your heads by the time you made your way to the water-side lot filled with shipping containers. Sharon’s intel had led you to it, and container four-two-six-one had come to your knowledge with little questioning on Sam and Bucky’s part, if only because she was an old friend.

You still wondered who would give her the location of such a prize as this, and what it had cost her, since you were slowly learning that nothing in Madripoor came free. Regardless of where she had received the information, it had been where Nagel was hidden, along with the remainder of his serum research.

It had also been where the bounty hunters of Madripoor descended upon you.

Dr. Nagel was a young, lanky man who had barely finished his exposition of where to possibly find the Flag Smashers who had stolen his serum when the very man you had danced so happily with not two hours before shot a bullet right through his heart. All you could think, in the stunning moment of realization that Nagel had been dead before he even hit the ground, was how stupid you were to ever let your guard down around this man--- this killer.

“What did you do?” Sharon’s cry rang in your ears as the gun clattered to the ground from Zemo’s hand, jolting you into action from staring at Nagel’s body to turn on them. Catching Zemo’s cold eyes--- no remorse within them--- as Sam and Sharon struggled to pin him to the grated shelves of Nagel’s lab. You think you might hate him, just in time for the blast of an explosion to push you face first into the metal slatted floor of Nagel’s bunker.

That hate was all you had left to fuel you from getting up off the floor, bones creaking as flames danced in your peripheral, a hole blown through the side of the crate. That anger, and the grasp of Sam’s hands on your forearm, pulling you up after he got his own footing.

Zemo had been gone by the time you had enough sense to scan the area, but there would be no searching for him this time, either, as the bounty hunters descended upon your location with the ease of wolves circling their prey. Shooting out from cover, you knew the bullets of your pistol weren’t enough to last you for all of them, and they had you pinned.

Part of you still hated him, even when he saved your asses. Another part wondered why he even bothered.

You hoped you radiated that hatred when you got into the back of that getaway car he’d found, too sullen to even wish Sharon a farewell, let alone offer a smile at the cheeky attitude Zemo had pulled up in it with. After everything, it only made you stew more--- his nonchalance. If you were being truly honest, you were angrier still at yourself, and the thought that he’d played you like a fiddle. If you had kept your guard up and kept an eye on him, perhaps Nagel would still be alive. Perhaps you wouldn’t feel like Zemo was playing this two steps ahead of the rest of you.

Even on the plane out of Madripoor, you had sat in sullen silence, refusing so much as to look at Zemo, even when he offered you food.

You hoped your sharp, “I’m not hungry, thanks,” cut deep, as childish as it may sound. You didn’t bother to look long enough in his direction to see if it had. Speaking exclusively to Sam and Bucky, even when Zemo changed your course to Latvia, you had not spoken a word to him until you landed in Riga, and his conversation turned towards Sokovia.

“Erased from the map,” he clicked his tongue, but his pace didn’t slow, when he spoke in what was as much an accusation as a question, “I don’t suppose any of you bothered to visit the memorial?” Met with silence when he looked upon Sam, he turned his eyes toward Bucky, then you, and it was the longest you’d dared hold his gaze since he killed Nagel, when he scathingly said, “Of course not. Why would you?” Nodding towards an old set of double doors, he drops the subject as suddenly as he’d brought it up, “We are here.”

Your traitorous heart clenched as you watched him disappear beyond them, Bucky remaining by your side while you lingered at the bottom of the steps leading into the residence.

“I’ll be back,” Bucky murmured, glancing your way, to which you silently nodded, too troubled by the fact that you felt anything at all akin to pity for that horrible man to worry where your friend might have to wander to in the middle of Latvia. Zemo was, undeniably, horrible, wasn’t he?

A huff of annoyance blew past your lips as you marched the steps towards where Sam and that man had disappeared beyond. Maybe you were just getting soft in your old age, or something.

Yeah, that had to be it.

What you hadn’t expected was for Sam to meet you at the doorway to Zemo’s… loft? Loft.

“I’m gonna’ hit the corner store, if you’re alright to watch you-know-who,” Sam murmured low, and you scrambled for words to say aside from the hell no which threatened to spill from your lips. “He’s in the shower, so maybe he’ll be a while anyway.” Glancing over your shoulder, Sam’s brow furrowed, “Where’s Bucky?”

“Said he’d be back,” you looked behind yourself, as if expecting to find him there. “Don’t know where he ran off to, though.”

A questioning breath was sucked through Sam’s teeth, before he let it out in a sigh, affixing you with a, “You good?”

With babysitting Zemo?

No.

“Yeah, go,” you had ushered him out the door despite your current feeling towards the subject, and by the time you shut the door behind him and rummaged into the kitchen area to ransack the refrigerator, you realized why Sam was going to the corner store. This place was positively barren of the necessities. Groaning in disappointment, you lean your head back in a silent cry to the heavens. Why was nothing going right on this mission? You were starving, and hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep on the plane over.

Standing there for a moment, you let the cold air hit your skin, daring it to keep you awake.

The door to the washroom pushing open grasps your reluctant attention, head lulling to the side slightly as you shut the empty refrigerator. There he was, the bastard, clad only in a robe and lounge pants, pushing a folded towel along his neck, catching the water there which dripped from his semi-dry hair.

Footsteps softened by the slippers at his feet, he asks upon taking a look around the room to find only your presence there, “And where have your soldiers run off to?”

You grit your teeth, forced to answer him, “Sam went to the store, because you don’t keep your safe houses stocked with food.”

“This is not a safe house,” he murmurs, coming close enough that the sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches along something gold glinting at his throat. Large hands lower the towel and fold it neatly, as your gaze lingers, observing the necklace where it delves into his chest, a view allowed by the robe’s relaxed fit, just open enough to reveal the soft hairs there. You snap your eyes back up before you can stay there for too long, and Zemo is smiling slightly. Bastard caught you.

“What is it then?”

“A vacation home.” For a pitiful instant, your mind sent you images of the family he’d lost in Sokovia. The last thing you needed was to feel sorry for him, so you clear your throat, shaking off the thought of what was missing. What had led to who he’d become. Your pity thankfully didn’t show as he moved ever closer into the kitchen, feet stopping just before your own so that he could look you down. You couldn’t help but grasp the counter you leant yourself upon until your knuckles blanched under his scrutiny, nearly on the verge of demanding he explain what his problem was, until he nodded to the cabinet beside your head, “Excuse me.”

You almost jumped out of his way.

Watching, desperately clawing for the anger that had been so comfortingly oppressive in your chest earlier in the morning, because anything was better than lingering on the cut of his jawline, or the way his robe dipped as he reached for that very cabinet you had been standing in the way of a moment before. Anything else, focus on anything else.

When he opened it, your eyes snapped to the few jars within. Olives and fruit lined the shelves in twistable jars, flanked by large bottles of that same dark liquor he seemed to favor, and a tin of coffee beans. In the back, nestled away for a rainy day, was a box of Turkish delight.

“Ah,” he breathed pleasantly, shooting you a cheshire grin, “so it is not entirely as empty as you thought.”

Bastard, bastard, bastard---

The word rings in your head like a mantra as you feel the anger crumbling, fading away with each second he looked at you like that. What was wrong with you, to be this easy? Something had to be.

His eyes were thankfully torn away when he looked into the cabinet once more, plucking the fruit--- peaches, looked like--- from the shelf, along with the coffee and candy, “I doubt you would like to eat pickled olives alone.” He says it, right before he closes the cabinet, and reaches out with the jar of peaches towards you.

Blinking up at him, you don’t dare take them, genuinely curious, “They’re not for you?”

“You did not eat on the plane, and it has been hours, now; you must be starving.”

You’re surprised he even cared, or made the appearance of caring, but that shrivel of spiteful anger you clutched onto with all your might refused to take them from his hand, despite the growl in your stomach, “Sam will be back soon enough with food.” Turning on your heel to keep yourself from going back and snatching them away like a starving animal, you move to the other side of the kitchen.

His jaw is set when you look back at him at the sharp tap of glass and metal along the countertop. Zemo’s fingers clutched the jar and coffee tin with a fury that was only revealed in the depths of his dark eyes, watching you move across the living room without so much as a word.

Until you sat down, and he breathed calmly, so calmly, that you knew it was the calm before the storm, “Am I to expect you to act as a petulant child for the remainder of the mission, or shall I ready myself for you to come to your senses?”

You scoffed at him, “Excuse me?”

“Please do not make me repeat myself, my dear.”

“I’m sorry, Baron,” you grit with as little remorse as possible, that once-simmering anger nearly boiling again, “that I don’t want to trade peaches with a man who murdered someone not two feet from where I stood.”

“Try again.”

“What?”

“Try, again,” he breathed slowly, as if he had to do so to keep himself from breaking into some fit of rage. You’d never seen him enraged, even when he fought and killed, he was always a deathly calm, and some sick, twisted part of you wanted to see him truly, frightfully angry, “You don’t treat Wilson and Barnes with this childish disdain, despite them killing countless people in your presence.”

“Don’t even compare yourself to them. You killed an unarmed man!”

“I do not wish to litigate the details of what may or may not have happened---”

“‘Litigate?’” you rose to your feet from the couch, not even realizing that he had half-way crossed the room by the time you did, “Do you even hear yourself? You put a bullet in his heart! What is there to litigate?”

“He was a threat.”

“He could have been arrested, or---”

“Criminals can escape prisons,” he bit, nearly in each other’s faces by the time you laughed at your own bitter answer.

“What? Like you?”

“Precisely,” he agreed, and you met his glare with one just as heated, until something shifted in his gaze. A sort of dawning understanding that muddled his glare, until a raise of his brow accompanied the easing tension in his shoulders, and you already knew you weren’t going to like what he was going to say before he’d even said it, “Is that what bothers you?”

“What?” you ask warily.

“That I am considered a criminal.”

“You’re a killer.”

“My question stands, regardless.”

“I’ve worked with criminals before,” you shook your head, making to turn back to the couch, but a fast grip at your upper arm stopped you in your tracks, and he was far too close all over again. Suffocating you with his closeness, with the oppressive cleanliness and water his scent still carried from his recent shower. Ungloved, his fingers were warm, radiating through the sleeve of your shirt, digging firmly into the pliant flesh of your bicep.

His breath carried the faint smell of mint that comes after a fresh brushing as it wafted past your skin alongside his demanding amusement, and your stomach dropped dreadfully when he teased, “Ah, but you danced with me.”

Have you ever let someone you didn’t trust get too close?

The question seemed to dance in the black endlessness of his dilated pupils, rimmed with the deceptive warm brown of his irises. You were so close that you could notice the gold flecks in them which caught in the sunlight streaming from the window, something you otherwise would have missed. A dare in the dangerous flick of his lashes, he glanced to your lips and back; was he all too aware of your closeness, too?

The reflexive dart of your tongue to wet your lips gave you away, face burning hot with anger and embarrassment, and you ripped yourself from his grip, “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“I’m sure you’re clever enough to figure it out,” is his sarcastic counter, a satisfied smirk which said he had all the answer he needed already left you wishing there were some way to rip it from his face, because were you really that obvious? Or was he just that good at reading people?

This time, when you headed to sit back on the couch, he simply stood there, allowing you to be unobstructed. You plopped down upon the couch with all the defeat you felt at his satisfaction, lying down in the hope that if you ignored him, he’d simply go away.

When you hear the sound of his slippers along the floor, signaling his departure from your side, the distant shuffle paused in their tracks when you couldn’t help yourself from asking, “Why did you come back?”

“Hmm?”

“When we were in Madripoor,” you breathed slowly, curiosity overcoming your anger, “you had escaped us twice. It was the perfect chance to run for your freedom. Why come back?”

You don’t dare open your eyes, even with the length of his pause, before he answers, a solemn honesty in his voice, “This is not a mission which I can abandon. I must see it through.”

You almost asked him why, once again, but thought better of it. Something told you he wouldn’t have given you a straight answer, either way.

Just when you think he’d gone on his way, the shuffling sound of his slippers closed in once more. Tempted to look, your curiosity at his approach was answered with the sharp sound of glass clicking against the wooden coffee table.

“Feel for me as you will, but eat,” his voice is low, soft. You don’t know if it was the straining of your ears to make up for what you would not see, but you could have sworn you heard an apologetic tone when he added, “You’re no use if you lack the strength to fight your enemies. As you are now, anyone could overpower you if they wished.”

That earns him a peek of a glare from out of the corner of your eye, and you earn a stern look in return as he nods towards the canned peaches on the table.

You couldn’t help yourself from asking sarcastically, before cracking a small smile, “So, are the Flag Smashers about to propel from the ceilings to catch us unaware, or is it you I should be worried about overpowering me?”

No apologies, from either party, but his dark chuckle is enough to set your soul aflame when he teases, sounding too much like a promise, “I would only overpower you, should you to ask me to.”

And that was when you realized how your question had come across. The burning in your face only increases as you sat up sharply at his words, about to protest that it had not been what you meant by them, but the doors to the loft opened, saving you the embarrassment of that conversation.

“Where’s Sam?” Bucky asks, and Zemo leans away from the coffee table, freeing you from the sweltering scrutiny of his gaze.

“I’m afraid we are running low on groceries, and he was so kind as to do the shopping for us,” Zemo explained innocently enough, but Bucky’s eyes narrowed at him regardless.

“Speaking of going out,” you reached for the jar of peaches, feeling Zemo’s glance upon you as you popped the top open, “where’ve you been?”

“I saw an old friend,” Bucky grumbled, shrugging off your question as he moved towards the washroom, “I’ll tell you when Sam gets back.”

The door closed behind him with a certain finality on the subject, at least until Sam returned. By the time you looked back towards Zemo, he was fiddling with the box of candy.

“I shall put the coffee on,” he announced, glancing to catch your eye with the flick of a candy wrapper glinting between his fingertips, offering, “Turkish delight?”

Upon Sam’s return, the news that Bucky’s old friend had been a warrior of Wakanda was a bad one, at least for Zemo. But with bad news came good news, and soon enough you were following the trail of the Flag Smashers once again, even if that meant the Wakandans were following your trail.

Hours turned to days, and by the end of a weeklong trek across Europe filled with close-quarters and even closer encounters with your Sokovian prisoner, you were standing in front of the dingy warehouse which had found you in this final, terrifying predicament.

Wondering if it had all been pointless, to be snuffed out at the hand of the supersoldier above you, pushing you into the dirty concrete. He wouldn’t need a gun to end you, and you both knew it. So you might have been panicking, with how savagely you pulled in his grasp. A trapped animal, fighting to get free.

Blood rushing to your head fills your ears, catching the first sight of the man pushing you into the ground just barely out of the corner of your eye, and the dark mask covering his face with a handprint. You could make out that he was light-skinned, dark hair pushing down past his chin, young enough to make you wonder just how old he was, and if yours would be the first life he’d take.

His voice is softer than you expected, for someone who sounded so terrifying when he began his order of, “Stop struggli---”

The bullet that rips through his neck tears his grip away from your body, ringing off the hollow echo of the room for just the moment it took the eyes beyond the frame of his mask to widen and dilate as they looked into your own. Green.

His eyes were green.

Silence far too sudden for the adrenaline of the close gunshot not to shake you to your core.

The supersoldier is dead before he hits the ground, and you’re pushing yourself up on aching joints to get on your feet as quickly as possible, until the familiar voice of your companion meets your ears in a thick, Sokovian accent, “He did not hurt you.” It’s flat, not hitching into a recognizable question at the end, but the dark eyes of your savior seem to question you despite the cracking disinterest of his tone.

There was no denying you were happy to see him.

“Zemo,” it’s breathless, and sounds too much like a hoarse relief for your own liking, so you focus instead on rolling your bruised shoulder and avoiding the searing gaze upon you, trying not to appear as shaken as you truly were, “Not anything I can’t walk off.” The sound of something muttered in Sokovian under his breath brings you to look upon him again, finding that his gun lingers along his hip, locked in the tight, leather-gloved grip. He looks displeased, lips set into a tight line that suggests he’s angry, even, but not in the same way he had been in Latvia. This was worse, a colder, solemn anger that threatened the fire behind his eyes, threatening to burn this whole place to the ground, and you can only question, “What is it?”

“Undoubtedly any others remaining here have been alerted by the noise,” Zemo says curtly, turning towards the hallway from whence you came. He is angry, you manage to confirm, when he bites across his shoulder, “Mind your surroundings this time, so that you don’t find yourself pathetically helpless again.”

His words were scathing, but they’re meant to be. Even worse, you know he’s right. This dead one, whose blood was splattered over the top half of your tactical gear, had crept up on you too softly, and was too strong to shake off once he’d gotten hold of you.

Constructed to kill, thanks to the serum.

Even going into a fully aware fight, you were at a disadvantage, especially in close quarters. It was something he understood. Something he used repeatedly in his own strategy against opponents which were physically stronger in every way.

Your only hope of an upper hand had to come from either distance, or subterfuge. At least, if you weren’t accompanied by Bucky or Sam.

You’re lucky, despite the burning ache in your side and back, that it hadn’t been worse than it was, and that Zemo had come upon you as he did.

“Remain close,” he murmurs, as you emerge out into the hall, and you don’t dare to argue with him on it, even if you might have had the situation which just transpired not done so. Clearing the upper west floors were methodical, swift, and it became apparent by the third that whoever had been here was gone, either before or after Zemo’s gunshot had rung true.

Bucky and Sam appeared winded when you regrouped at the designated meeting point, and you didn’t have to wait for Bucky’s explanation to guess what had occurred, “We tangled with a few of them. They got away, but we got another lead from what they left behind…” Bucky trailed off, swapping a glance with Sam at the sight of your disheveled state.

“What happened to you two?” Sam’s eyes dart between your torn clothes and the scrapes along your skin towards Zemo’s tense, rigid frame.

“I was jumped by one,” you grit, embarrassed enough that he’d caught you off-guard without even verbalizing it, “he had me on my stomach, but Zemo, he---” you clear your throat, remembering the vacant green stare and splash of deep, vibrant red that had accompanied your rescue.

“It has been handled,” Zemo supplies for you, and before Sam could question him further, he adds, “the man is dead.”

The blood along your black tactical gear has dried by now, but it’s black stickiness must be ever apparent for them now, as Bucky sighs a weary, “Well, shit.”

“Are you okay?”

You open your mouth to answer Sam, but Zemo gruffly responds, “She’ll live,” before brushing past the two of them towards where the car which would take you back into the heart of the city was waiting.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sam wonders, when Zemo is far enough ahead that he can’t hear the question.

“You want a list?” Bucky grumbles dismissively, stretching his metal arm in a wide circle that suggested it had set peculiarly after his last fight.

Your throat tightens, and you try your best to keep from remembering that helpless, desperate feeling which had drenched your soul as the supersoldier pinned you to the concrete.

Forcing a humorless laugh, you offer up a half-hearted explanation, daring it to sound as unbothered as you wished you truly were, “Maybe he regrets the bullet he spent saving me.”

Bucky’s exhale is somewhere between a bitter laugh and sigh, “Who knows, with him.”

As much as you wished for it, you couldn’t be sure if those words you’d spoken didn’t ring true.

“Whatever,” Sam agrees, dismissively rubbing the back of his neck. Redirecting back on the target of chasing the Flag Smashers, you hoped you’d get a step ahead of them soon when Sam instigates your following of Zemo to the car, “We’d better get back to the motel and regroup. Got an early day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The, “yeah,” you supply the back of their heads with, finding yourself following after them, is almost as distant as you felt. Internalized, and thrumming with the melting adrenaline which made way for exhaustion to settle into your bones and take hold.

Yet, you can’t get that deathly, dilating green out of your mind, or the ghost clinging to the ache in your back, where murderous weight had been.

Zemo did not meet your eye the whole ride to the motel--- and it was nothing like the dazzling vacation home Zemo had introduced you all to in Riga. Complete with plain walls and shuttered windows, the view of Prague you received from the window set in the dead center of the narrow bedroom was that of the wall of the building opposite. Utility, over luxury, but privacy had been key, as well.

He had retired to his own room just as soon as you’d set foot before it, bizarrely silent in that same way that you had come to realize could never be a good thing, because it meant Zemo was lost in his own head. Neither Sam nor Bucky made note of it, at least aloud, and so you held your tongue as well, rather than acknowledge the dark cloud which seemed to follow the man as he disappeared beyond the click of the motel room door.

“We can trade,” breaks you from your intense scrutiny of that door, key card clutched firmly in hand as you glance towards where Bucky stiffly supplies, “I don’t blame you if you’re not okay with it. You can stay with Sam instead.”

Your heart clenches, and for a moment you’re brought out of your remembrance of the Flag Smasher’s body atop your own by the offer, somewhat touched that he would take your place as Zemo’s keeper tonight at the sacrifice of his own comfort. Even after all that Zemo had done to him, he would take the bed which you had agreed to sleep in earlier, when the motel owner had explained the issue of limited capacity.

You can see the apprehension behind his eyes, despite his generous offer. He was still unsettled by Zemo, and, if you were being honest, so were you. You won’t make him do that for you, all so that you can avoid whatever tension lingering between you and Zemo.

Instead, you pat Bucky in the chest gently with the palm of your hand and swallow down the nauseous churn of your stomach, forcing a light tone, “I’m a big girl, Bucky, but if he gives me any trouble, I’ll shout for you guys. How’s that sound?”

“If he gives you a chance to shout,” Bucky frowns.

“Well, if he suffocates me in my sleep, I’ll haunt him forever,” it’s meant to be teasing, but it comes out dry.

“Our side will be unlocked, just in case,” Sam mentions, lingering in the open doorway of the adjoining room, “might wanna’ unlock yours, too.”

“Or else I’ll just have to break through it if anything happens,” Bucky’s tone is just as dry. Tired. This chase was wearing on you all, and you could only hope that tomorrow would be different than today.

Slipping the key card along the door, it whirs to life with a click. The acceptance of your entry indicated by the green glow of the lock’s internal light. Slipping into the room, you rest your back against the shut door, willing the green remembrance of your attacker’s eyes to shake from your head.

Your death-grip on the key card doesn’t ease as the bathroom door opens, and you catch sight of Zemo. He’s shed his jacket, left in that dark turtleneck and slacks. His hair had fallen, ever so slightly, from its perfected part against his forehead. The tips of a few strands there are dark with a dampness which evidenced the water he must have splashed his face with before emerging from the restroom.

His hands are free of his gloves as he flexes them at his sides, pausing for but a moment of acknowledgement at your presence before he goes further into the room, towards the full bed near the window which he must claim as his own. The jacket lies there, until he retrieves it to hang in the closet on one of the wooden hangers provided within.

Not a word. You don’t know if it should make you relieved or concerned, but truthfully, it makes you feel nothing. Because you’re still standing at the door by the time he turns from the closet, staring unfocused at the floor before you and screaming internally to pull yourself together when he does it for you.

“Are you going to stand there for the remainder of the night?” Curtly, “If my presence has you so paralyzed with fear, you may as well take up your soldier’s offer to switch rooms.”

His voice holds an edge, despite the deceptively smooth calmness to it. A taunting, instigating bait hung there. As if he were still angry at you.

And for what? For getting attacked?

The thought sends white-hot, simmering rage swelling in your own chest. Did he think you a nuisance, after having to save you from that brute of a supersoldier this evening? It had been a sneak-attack! You doubt even having your wits about you would have helped catch the silence with which you’d been crept up on in that warehouse, now that you’d had time to replay every second of it in your mind twofold.

Glaring at him with that fire in your eyes, was better than that frightfully distant look you’d held a moment before, he thought.

“What do you want from me?” comes biting from your teeth, bared at him as you bristled under the cold anger of his own stare.

“There is nothing you could possibly offer me that I would want,” he strikes back.

Snake, meet wolf.

“As if I would offer you anything at all after the way you’ve acted,” it’s an effort to keep your voice from rising. You want to fight; to feel something other than the crippling terror that had nearly killed you this evening--- that panic, which had gripped your heart until it felt like it bled.

“The way I’ve acted?” Zemo’s demeanor changes, flaring rage in his eyes as he stalks across the room. It takes everything you have not to wilt in his approach, but to instead glare right back at him, even when he crowds you up against the door, palm coming flat against where your head resides. His voice doesn’t rise with his seething fury, but rather, lowers into a tone that turns your blood cold as it rushes through the heat his closeness spreads through you, “I am not the one who almost got myself killed.”

“Well,” you struggle to remain even, as you breathe all the disdain you can muster into your words, “I’m not going to apologize for you having to save me.”

His head tilts to the side, snarling through his thick accent at the thought, “I do not want an apology for that.”

Standing straight from your leaning on the door, if only to feel as if you were invading his space rather than the other way around, you find that he leans away ever so slightly when you snap, “I’m not going to thank you for it, either.”

“Thank me for---?” he stops himself with a clench of his jaw, breathing slowly through his nose, as if to calm the crackling fire behind his eyes as his glare burns into your own. Too close; he’s still standing much too close.

And he moves so quickly you have zero chance of escaping his path. The hand he didn’t have laid flat on the door pushes you roughly by the shoulder, into it. By the time your mouth is open to even yelp in surprise, it’s suffocated by the hasty press of his lips against yours. Searing, pressing the length of his body firm against your own as he kisses you with all the wild fury his eyes betrayed. Nothing was left of the collected calmness of his posture or voice from before, as his hand on your shoulder digs into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging you into him.

Not that you needed to be coaxed, with the way your fingers dig and scrape into the fabric along his chest, his shoulders, his throat, his hair. Digging in, his part is destroyed as you nip at his lips, teeth and tongue distracting you from any fragment of sense that was left screaming at you to remember it. To remember who he was, and how things are supposed to be between you.

Which was definitively the opposite of this. His hands were never supposed to find themselves fistfuls of your hair, your hip, your flesh, as they did now. You were never supposed to know that he tasted like something sweet, or felt soft beneath the hard lines of his turtleneck.

He was dragging, pulling, tumbling with you away from the door, as anger and fury melted into a complex, sweltering mixture of something else entirely, heat burning through your core when he tugged at the buckles of your tactical gear.

The world turns sideways, and then you’re falling upon something soft--- the mattress creaking beneath your weight and the weight of him kneeling atop you as you dragged him down to your lips once again. Rough, not gentle, as you arched into him and tugged at his hair, a breathy groan escaping into your mouth from his own.

He inhales sharply, as if suddenly realizing the position you were both in, as his fingertips grazed the bare skin of your waist, where your shirt had become untucked from your pants.

Breaking, parting, breathless, he stares down at you. Brown eyes blown wide and dilated, staring at you like a deer in the headlights--- perhaps the most honest expression you’d ever seen on Zemo’s face.

You were no better, sprawled along the comforter and trying to catch your breath. A single question ringing around your brain in search of an answer, any answer.

What are you doing? What are you doing?

“I,” he breathes softly, in a lilting apologetical tone, and you realize he’s between your legs, hooked along his hips precariously. Your anger dissipates, evaporating like it had been burned away with the roaring flames he’d ignited within you, and he clears his throat slightly. Troubled is how he looks, when his eyes become incapable of holding your own, “I can’t do this.”

No apology, though it may as well be there, in the way he said it.

Though you know he’s keeping you from a terrible mistake, part of you is lying when you murmur, “It’s okay,” back up to him.

“Yane mogu etogo sdelat,” he leans down, as if collapsing under the pressure of whatever he was feeling, right into the curve of your stomach. Sokovian, you register faintly, as another reverent, “I can’t do this,” falls from his lips to be muffled in the fabric between you.

Your hand finds his head, fingers carding through his hair reflexively, and you don’t know if it’s from the shock of your situation or a genuine desire to comfort him, when you repeat, even softer, “It’s okay, Helmut.”

It’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name, you realize.

Maybe it’s the fact that he was still tangled up in you, or the fact that you’d been mere moments away from letting him have his way with you, but you don’t dare move from this spot. From pushing your fingertips against the crown of his scalp, or the weight of him against you. Neither does he, as he breathes raggedly for a moment against your stomach, face buried there.

Breaking the silence almost feels wrong, but you do it anyway. A compulsive, desperate need to do so crawls up your throat, until you can’t contain the words any longer.

Reaching down, finding the curve of his jaw, you pull, until he lifts his head enough to peer over the curve of your chest to meet your eye, questioning after a moment of peering into the lingering want, and tragic grief of his stare, “Are you okay, Helmut?” But you already know the answer; you finally understand that this man is far more broken than you’d ever realized.

“Is anyone ever just, ‘okay?’” is his evasive answer.

You say it before you can think better of it, offering him another piece of you with which you probably shouldn’t have, but you were already neck deep in possible regrets, so what was one more?

“People’ve said I’m a good listener before, if you need to talk about whatever it is that’s troubling you.”

You liked to think he owed you some kind of explanation for all this, but if he’d asked you for the same, you don’t know if you could give him one, either. It had just… happened. No rhyme or reason, but some bizarre, broken part of your own soul had called out to whatever was cracked and frayed in his own. It was all the answer you could think of, for why you were flat on your back beneath him still.

“I would not bother you with my troubles,” Zemo starts, attempting to piece back that calm, collected mask which kept this fragment of him that you had bore witness to hidden.

“If not me, then you should bother someone with them.”

And maybe it’s the soft, bittersweet smile with which you look up at him, or a deep craving to be understood by just one other human being in this world, but his chin remains firmly planted against your chest as he says quietly, sadly, “I have no one left. They are all gone.” He doesn’t flinch away when you brush the hair from his forehead, out of his eyes, catching sight of the confusion, the trouble in his soul.

Trouble, indeed.

Stormy, dark, he stares a hole into your soul, and you ache with the hollow tragedy of it, when he murmurs as firmly as he can, almost worse than if his voice had cracked with emotion, “I have lost them all.”

You want to tell him the reflexive compassions that come at times like these, but sorry feels cheap, and you could never understand the pain he must feel. You hope you never do.

So you breathe out slowly, one word at your lips, “Sokovia?” as if you didn’t already know. As if you had not read his file, years before he joined you for this mission. Back when he had terrorized the Avengers and murdered diplomats at the United Nations hearing. You tried not to think of it, now, when he looked so vulnerable, and sad, as the slight nudge of his chin into the flesh of your skin is all that’s required to acknowledge your question.

“You already bother me enough, Zemo,” you try to add a joking hum to your voice, as you sigh beneath him, but even that sounds bittersweet, “so feel free to bother me more with your troubles, if you like.”

There’s quiet for what feels like a long time after that. Your words permeating the space between you, and you don’t know if he watches you like he does to gauge your sincerity, or because he simply likes looking at you like this.

He gives you a fragment, when his body shifts, and his weight moves up just enough to catch your eye from where you were left staring at the ceiling in this thrumming silence, your fingers slipping from his hair to his shoulder, “I…” he clears his throat softly, “saw you underneath that supersoldier, and I just… could not lose one more.” Zemo doesn’t say he cares about you, not explicitly, “He was going to kill you.”

“I know,” it tastes hollow in your mouth, as you do your best not to go back there, to how he’d found you.

“It,” he breathes, searching for the right word, “frightened me, and so I was furious. Not entirely at you, but because…”

He trails off, and you supply instead, the similar feeling which had buried itself in your own chest, “Because of how it made you feel?”

Zemo nods, his hands smoothing down your back, catching at your waist, “I did not like the way it made me feel,” his gaze flicks along the planes of your face, before returning to your own, that want-mixed-grief once again swirling within them. “The way you make me feel. It is like… a betrayal.” His voice does shake this time, when he breathes, “It is too soon since… I lost my whole world.”

A betrayal, he had called the feeling.

It felt like that for you, too. This swirling, guilty want in your bones for him, when you know it’s the last thing you should want. That he should be the last thing you want. If Bucky or Sam saw you like this--- you think they might hate you for it.

For wanting him.

Your hand rests at the curve of his neck and shoulder, thumb close enough to feel the short stubble which threatened to peek through at his jaw with the late hour of the day, and you agree, “I was angry, too, because of this feeling.”

“The feeling of wanting something you cannot have,” he chuckles, a truce, offered from his body to yours in the vibrations of it which resound in your chest.

“You could say that.”

Perhaps, in a different world, things could be different.

Maybe, if you’d met him at a different time.

But as things were, you were just two broken people, seeking solace in one another when every fiber of your being told you not to. That it was wrong--- despite how comfortably right he felt against you here and now, lingering between your thighs and against your body for as long as he possibly could, despite the guilt that you’d shared, without even knowing it.

It’s not your place, but when he sits up finally, his weight lifting off of you and somehow leaving you feeling more suffocated than when it had been there, you catch his attention with the sound of his name, “Helmut?”

“Hmm?” he wonders, knees pressing into the mattress as he’s halfway detangled from between your legs.

Catching his eye, you hope you look as sincere as it felt within you, the ache in your chest for him, “Anyone who could have loved you, would have wanted you to be happy.” It sounds cliche and generic, but you don’t dare mention his wife specifically, or the terrible emptiness that comes with the loss of a child. Still, you see it in his eyes, in the way he observes you with increased curiosity, that he knows it to be true, despite that desperate, clawing pain you know he must feel within his chest.

Zemo’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “That is a sweet sentiment.” And he’s gone, leaving you spread there to watch after him as he crosses the room, towards the restroom, probably for a moment of privacy. Stopping in his path, he glances at you, hand resting on the doorframe, “But they do not have to go on living without them.”

The bathroom door shuts behind him with a definitive click, and you’re left reeling as you piece together the facts of the night. The pieces of his grief, and want, which you’d witnessed. The fragments of yours which only seemed to swell with his own.

A miserable, self-pitying groan slips past your lips.

You were truly in trouble, now.

#baron helmut zemo fanfic #zemo fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel female reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic by me #author meg #female reader insert #newstuff female reader insert

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n1kolaiz · 3 years

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"Man fears death and yet, at the same time, man is drawn to death. Death is endlessly consumed by men in cities and in literature. It is a singular event in one's life that none may reverse. That is what I desire."

Character Analysis: Dazai Osamu

Age: 22 || Ability: No Longer Human

I've done a lot of research concerning Dazai's character because of how complex he'd initially appeared to me. It is still a question as to what his personality type is; some say he's an ENTP while others argue that he's an INTJ, and his enneagram would most likely be 7w8 (The Realist), but that isn't the thing I'm going to focus on.

According to general databases and fan analyses, his temperament is dominantly melancholic. A person's temperament is basically how they react to and live in this world. For those of you not interested in such details, don't worry, I'll get to my point.

The melancholic behaviour is characterised by individualism, self-reliance, and reservation. People of the melancholic temperament are described as having been overcome with sorrow and depressive thoughts, which is beyond the feeling of "just being sad."

Nonetheless, they are generally calm beings, with a tendency to hide how they truly feel by keeping their composure, even in events that demand severe reaction otherwise. Other aspects of melancholic temperaments is that they are absorbed in the cruelty and tragedy of this world, and tend to get lost in their thoughts.

Sound familiar?

Dazai is seen to be as the comic relief of the adaptation, and he'd never fail to bring about a sense of lightheartedness to relieve the serious moments; we all know that for sure. Remember the time both him and Kunikida found Nobuko Sasaki in that godforsaken hospital, and how Kunikida asked him about his opinion on the current state of affairs?

But, despite having developed a calm and serene personality, Dazai's dark side was more apparent during the Dark Era. There was a type of intimidating and arrogant flair evident in his behaviour, or even on his face. It was the type of demeanour that came off cold and terrifying to the rather unlucky people he dealt with. In a moment's notice, they could literally die by his hands. And I believe most of them usually did. It was during this time, he was more brutal and vicious. He lacked remorse. Plus, Dazai's suicidal ideations were more dense during this Era, and his suicidal tendencies did not do anything to alleviate the depth of how dark his character was posed to be.

Side note: Unfortunately, people misunderstand this 'depressed' part of Dazai; they minimise his character so much to the point that people use only a single word to describe him: suicidal. He is, in fact, so much more than that. I'll elaborate more on that in a while.

"Hey, Odasaku, do you know why I joined the Mafia? I joined the Mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence—close to people giving in to their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that… I would be able to find something—a reason to live."

Dazai's approach to life is that of an aimless soul, weary of the world's oppressions and exhausted from the concept of living itself. Nevertheless, what he said above about having an expectation made me realise something: he had a goal, which he wasn't that enthusiastic about achieving—seeking for a reason to carry on with life. So he joined the Mafia.

And there, he met Oda Sakunosuke.

Despite how resilient Dazai carried himself to be (especially during the Dark Era), this specific excerpt stands in direct opposition of how he effortlessly embodied all things daunting:

"With every step I take, I feel as though the earth has opened up into a bottomless pit as I fall endlessly. As Dazai pointed to his forehead and approached the muzzle, the look on his face – like that of a child about to burst into tears – had already been branded upon my eyes."

- quoted by Oda Sakunosuke, excerpt from Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era Light Novel.

When I read this, it sent my mind into a spiral of despair and confusion. It was so vague, yet it made so much sense. Dazai was desperate to escape from this life, but part of him seemed to live in conflict with his desire for death. I won't elaborate more on this, because this specific excerpt has personal meaning to me, as I'd expect it to have for others as well; so I wouldn't want to ruin anyone else's perception on it.

Back to my point: Odasaku was one of the only characters who managed to interpret the complexity of Dazai's mindset and was able to compartmentalise the specific details of his persona that made Dazai the way he was. Oda knew that Dazai wasn't just suicidal.

"For most things in life, it's harder to succeed than fail. Wouldn't you agree? That's why I should attempt suicide rather than commit it! Committing suicide is difficult, but it should be relatively easier to fail at attempting suicide!"

Others boasted about how he was just a suicidal maniac, and that was only because of how good Dazai was at concealing his own feelings whilst flamboyantly priding himself in new, risky techniques, which he sometimes elaborated on. But Oda, on the other hand, saw through his jokes, and empathised with his friend, never wanting to ever barge into his vulnerability without Dazai's permission, but still trying to be there for him.

"Listen. You told me if you put yourself in a world of violence and bloodshed, you might be ale to find a reson to live. You won't find it. You should know that. Whether you're on the side that takes lives or the side that saves them, nothing beyond your own expectations will happen. Nothing in this world can fill the hole that is your loneliness. You will wander the darkness for eternity."

Notice how Odasaku recognised Dazai's despair, before Dazai even dared to acknowledge his very own emotions? That was why, at Oda's death, he took the initiative to uncover Dazai's bandaged eye to show him that there was no use in concealing his feelings anymore.

Odasaku's last words to Dazai was to "be on the side that saves people," for he was aware that even though Dazai didn't believe there was a clear distinction between good and evil, he thought that perhaps Dazai would find meaning in his life, even if it was just a little bit of purpose.

In Dead Apple, we briefly relive this moment, but I'll write more on that some other time.

And when Dazai joined the ADA, he loses that dark side to him. No, wait, let me rephrase that: he loses a part of that dark side to him. He eliminated the raw sense of bitterness against the world from his face, and instead, he is seen to be a little more passive, and a little more adaptive. No doubt, he still does explicitly state his desire to die, but his wishes are very specific, if you know what I mean.

And a few years later, his journey with Atsushi began.

Atsushi and Dazai's relationship is just one of a kind. I think it isn't a matter of whether Atsushi needed Dazai, or whether Dazai needed Atsushi. It's the fact that they both needed each other. It's the way they both worked hand in hand, and how they sustained each other in ways they were lacking.

The two were polar opposites, but they had a tender kind of warmth embedded in their protectiveness for each other. Atsushi was just as lost as Dazai, but somehow, they worked together just fine. It was like their duality was meant to be. It was the type of symbiotic relationship, where their care for each other was implied, but very deep.

Does this also sound familiar... perhaps, in relation to Dazai's friendship with Odasaku?

Side note: Oda and Atsushi have the same enneagrams, which is Type 2, 'The Helper.'

There is a sort of balance that is brought about by two opposites. Odasaku taught Dazai many things, and I believe Oda learned a lot about a man's life from the way Dazai lived out his life with the innate desire to die. Atsushi sought for the right to live, while Dazai searched for a reason to live; in addition, Dazai validated Atsushi's feelings, and Atsushi was able to acknowlegde the amount of pain Dazai was going through.

Despite how Dazai's perspectives and beliefs stood in contrast with those of Oda's and Atsushi's, a type of inseparable bond connected the man who no longer felt like he was human, to the people who was the most human.

No Longer Human in the Japanese romaji is 'Ningen Shikkaku.' Ningen means "human," and Shikkaku means "disqualified." The late author, Dazai Osamu, wrote the book No Longer Human. He had gone through the rough throes of trauma and wrote this book as a semi-autobiography, whose plot was centred around a man who faked happiness, for he was tainted by the truth that everyone around him was fake themselves. He turned his life into a joke in order to protect himself from the delusions of this world.

This brings us back to the melancholic temperament, where a person was too deeply immersed in the sad truths of reality and the world itself.

And that's what Dazai's character and ability is based on: being disqualified as a human being, because he wasn't well-versed with what being human was actually like. The fabrications of being human sprung up all around him, but he wasn't willing to be fooled by how ingenuine the world truly was.

“I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy, serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind—of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough) any wounds being inflicted, of people who seem unaware even that they are deceiving one another.”

- excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.

People who don't feel human emotions or don't react to circumstances the way humans do have a variety of ways of explaining how they feel inhuman. They are highly intelligent, which separates them from the average class of humankind, since they've analysed and untangled the truths of life in order to attain understanding, which they value above all else. But, this understanding of the world and its painful truths results in a deep kind of sorrow, which only a few people can seem to empathise with in order to help them out with that burden.

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

-excerpt from Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment.

Don't you think that this deep sorrow that lies in the heart of the intelligent, makes them the most human of all? They're too human, to the point where they don't feel human. Perhaps, it is a type of defence mechanism, where the mind numbs the heart from feeling normal human emotion, because logically breaking down such concepts is easier than feeling them. But it comes at a price. The heart is willing to recklessly comprehend and fathom any sort of emotion, including pain in its true form, but the mind bears more pain in understanding such concepts because it seeks to decipher every single agonising detail of how complex human emotions are. The mind thinks, the heart feels. There is a clear distinguishing factor between the two. Whether feeling hurts more than thinking, or thinking hurts more than feeling, or whether both these processes work hand-in-hand to make up the reality of life itself, is up for an individual to decide.

Only a few people can seem to empathise with intelligent people who are deeply sad at heart, in order to help them out. As for Dazai, it was Atsushi and Oda. They never took away the pain, but they made him grow from it; it worked vice versa, too.

Of course, there are less tedious and more appealing aspects to the concept of Dazai's intelligence. Dazai was seen as a threat to his enemies because of how manipulation and his keen skill of deduction made up how sharp his mind was. Besides, no one could commit '138 murders, 312 cases of extortion, and 625 cases of fraud, along with various and sundry other crimes,' without having a certain level of intelligence, right?

Dazai had the moral alignment of 'chaotic neutral.' He was more focused on using his intellect to achieve the desired end results of a predicament, and he wasn't afraid to use the wrong means. A famous example was when he deflated the airbags of Ango Sakaguchi's car in order to gain the assured protection of Kyouka Izumi.

Justice is a weapon. It can be used to cause harm, but it cannot protect or save others.

Another example was when he blew up Chuuya Nakahara's car.

Just kidding. That was just a simple pastime (；・∀ ・)

His moral alignment points to what Oda said about him: the part where he mentioned that Dazai didn't really see any difference between good and evil. As long as his ends were achieved, especially if it were in the benefit of his fellow colleagues, he wasn't afraid to exploit, threaten, or endanger others' wellbeing. Because, at the end of the day, the end result triumphed the morally bad methods utilised to achieve it, correct? He always had a reason for his motives and actions, even if those actions were evil and inexcusable.

(eg. action: the psychological abuse he bestowed upon Akutagawa Ryunosuke.

motive: to enable him to hone his own ability favourably and to curb his arrogance)

But the consequences of one's actions will always catch up with a person, no matter what heights they've achieved.

Okay, we're reaching the end of my rambling very soon, I promise.

“If I had to go, I’d like to go out just as beautifully.”

“I’d prefer you don’t go.”

This part of the post is highly inspired by iwachuwu!!

An important factor of Dazai's development is highlighted BSD Wan's episode 10:

I'd like to appreciate that this scene focuses on how much Dazai actually means to Atsushi. When Atsushi responds with "I'd prefer you don't go," he said it lightheartedly for he thought Dazai was joking. But he wasn't. And once Atsushi absorbed the fact that Dazai meant what he said, he was overwhelmed with anguish at the thought of ever losing Dazai. Dazai, on the other hand, had a sense of longing on his expression. There was that look of pure desperation on his face. He was so desperate, yet he knew he couldn't act on his desperation due to a promise he'd made to someone dear to him. But keep in mind, Dazai is unpredictable, so we can never be sure of what's going on in that headspace of his.

Nevertheless, this time, Atsushi recognised Dazai's suffering, as no one usually cared to do, and Dazai didn't put in any effort to hide how he truly felt, as he habitually did. And this mutual emotional connection happened countless times during all the times Oda spent with Dazai as well.

To summarise,

Dazai's character had been carefully wired and patterned out in a way only a few would put in the effort to understand. Dazai was more than just suicidal; he was a being wandering from place to place with no specific aim. He was too smart for his own good. Dazai understood too well of how the world worked and deemed it void of any sort of hope.

Side note: Yes, the truth does come at a price, but it all comes down to how a person understands the truth. As for Dazai (both character and the author he was based off upon), well, it was quite tragic. But that's the way it is for some people, I suppose. But everyone has a different path to travel on, remember that.

His transition from working with the Port Mafia to the Armed Detective Agency was proof of how well-executed his character development was. It was two different personas morphed into what he is today: a womaniser with questionable morals a person who is still standing even after the rough refining process endowed upon him by the realities of this life.

However, he had people along the way come and teach him a thing or two, which perhaps made his life a little more interesting. Perhaps these people were passing clouds that hid the void out of sight for just a moment, and Dazai was always seen to be grasping on to these moments, and letting them go whenever it was time to let go.

His outlook on life makes his intellect look all the more intriguing. It shows that not only does his intelligence contribute to his own wit and shrewdness, but also the practical sense of realism that explains how tired he is of the concept of living because of the truths there are to bear.

However he's enduring the pain right now is by far the most bravest thing a person could commit themselves to doing. It takes courage, and it takes strength, but only a few would ever take the time to recognise such efforts.

Dazai has one of the most beautiful character developments, but I do hope that the development doesn't reach its end anytime soon.

fanart credits: @S7dOZPN3jWBB6cW on twitter

“Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.

Everything passes.

That is the one and only thing that I have thought resembled a truth in the society of human beings where I have dwelled up to now as in a burning hell.

Everything passes.”

excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.

#bsd #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs wan #bsd wan #bsd dazai osamu #bsd characters #literature analysis #literature #dazai osamu #bsd odasaku #bsd atsushi #bsd analysis #bsd atsushi nakajima #.ryley.speaks

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r1ntaros · 3 years

Text

Whipped

First Admission of KQ Academy Class '20-'21

Dear diary,

Which is more powerful, the ability to have authority or feelings that are long overdue?

-love, y/n. x

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x fem!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of fights, mentions of sexual stuffs and malicious remarks, vulgar languages

“Good morning, Y/n!”

“Mhm.”

“Hi Y/n, have a nice day!”

“Mhm.”

The whispers, boys trying to woo her and girls looking at her in admiration and jealousy makes her scowl in annoyance as she walks through the academy’s hall. She is not one to get her ego fed up with the attention people are giving her. In fact, she hates the attention she always gets.

Kim y/n is known to be one of the smartest kids in the academy. Lots of people in her class tried befriending her for that very reason, even trying to give her the most expensive designer bags on special occasions only to reject it as it’s already in her collection. She, just like her twin brother Kim Hongjoong, is an enigma to everyone. Only knowing some important needed details about their life background and establishing an authority and dominance that can make everyone shake and follow the two siblings immediately. But unlike her brother who likes the attention and always agreeing into everything just to have fun, she’s one to say a hard no especially if she doesn’t like anything or just doesn’t like you in general.

Thinking of that name makes her sneer in annoyance as she makes her way to the student council’s lounge room to focus on her morning obligations before the classes start in an hour.

Ignoring the whole world with her earphones plugged in her ear, she made a sharp turn to where her destination is located only to stop midway as she sees the commotion happening right at the very door of the student council lounge room.

Most students stand in front of it with another group of boys who look larger and buffer in size compared to them but the aura of their dominance is nothing compared to the other seven boys who look at them with cold glinting eyes mixed with mischief and amusement.

Standing in the middle of it was her own brother, a smirk plastered on his face showing no signs of fear even if he’s stature is smaller to the person he’s head on.

Ah, so this is why her annoying brother decided to go to school earlier than he usually does.

A lot of students stood around them in a semi-circle, making sure to not block the door as they’re all dying to know what’s happening in the middle of it. Some of them noticed her presence, letting y/n set herself in a suitable spot to watch.

These kinds of things usually amazes her as some of them are used as a blackmail material to her brother but encountering this in the morning especially in the middle of the school year is not.. pleasing at all.

The door opening is another attention grabber and there, from the now open door, in his glory, is where Park Seonghwa stands.

His silver hair is messy as his eyeglasses are perked up in his nose like he’s been here all morning and doing some work and just decided to take a peek of what’s actually happening.

A smirk adorned his face when he seemed to realize what’s happening and stood up straighter, “Good morning, what seems to be the problem here and you all decided to camp in front of the student council’s office?”

“Ah, Seonghwa. We were just waiting for you.” Hongjoong said and gave his said friend a fist bump when he stood beside him, “These men are trying to cause havoc, asking for a fistfight. What do you say?”

“Why not grant their wishes?” Seonghwa said, earning gasps from people and some silent squeals, claiming that the way he said it turns them on. “We can head to the gym for a bigger show since that’s what they want.” He stopped on his tracks only to look at the group in front of them up and down, “Attention seekers.”

The guy from the other side sneered in annoyance and spoke up, “You’re talking too much, Park. Stop being a pussy and just fight us here. Your men had caused enough trouble.”

Seonghwa laughs and made an eye contact with y/n, “Well, since you couldn’t hold in your excitement, I think—”

“I think the fuck not.” Everyone gasped and looked at where y/n is as she shoots daggers with her eyes, alternating between Seonghwa and her brother who seemed shocked as she steps forward.

“Hey baby si—”

“Don’t you ‘baby sis’ me you fucker. You’ve caused enough trouble for the half of the school year and I’m so fucking tired of trying to think of an excuse so you wouldn’t get in trouble at home.” She told Hongjoong and her brother gaped at her like a fish trying to breathe on land. She then looked at Seonghwa and pointed a finger at him, “And you, Mr. Park, you have a lot of school festival proposals to read and attend to. A meeting in 10 minutes with the admins. Don’t waste my effort of making you an excuse note just because you want to get involved in a stupid fucking fist fight.”

“Wow she’s hotter when she’s mad.”

“Damn, look at the veins on her neck.”

“I didn’t know she could get any hotter.”

She was about to snap at the other students when one glare from Hongjoong was enough to shut them up.

She suddenly felt a hand slithering its way to her forearm as she was forced to face the other group’s “leader” who looked at her full of malice and he leaned down.

“Hey there Kim, looking hotter everyday, I see. How about you compromise for your own brother’s doing? Let me have a taste of you in one of the unused rooms.”

Y/n was frozen.

These kinds of things and languages makes her scared shitless, not knowing to defend herself, especially when the guy has a death grip on her arm. She tried to squirm away but he just pulled her closer and Seonghwa had enough.

He gripped her other arm and he spoke with dominance, “Let her go.”

“Why would I? Come on, Park. Isn’t it unfair that you only have her by yourself?” The man taunts, as he looked at him as if trying to get something out from him.

Seonghwa looked down on her, only for their eyes to meet as she looked at her in a pleading but shocked manner. Moving a bit closer, he removed the other man’s grip from her and pulled her in to the lounge room, uttering his last words that left everyone in shock:

“I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

—

Once the door behind them has finally shut itself, Seonghwa sat in his rightful seat in the middle of the lounge room and continued doing what he left on earlier, ignoring the seething y/n who’s looking at him like she wants to eat him alive.

It’s not the first time she’s ever looked at him like that, and to be honest? Seonghwa likes this better than not having her attention.

He would rather have her looking at him with eyes full of hatred because it helps him know that she knows he’s existing in the same orbit as her.

Call him whipped, call him a hopeless romantic, but Seonghwa knows himself that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I fucking want to obliterate you, Park.” She spoke every syllable with venom, making Seonghwa smirk as he switched his focus from his laptop to her.

“The pleasure will be mine, darling.”

Y/n scowled in disapproval, “You perverted motherfucker.” She said in disgust making Seonghwa laugh.

He stood up from his seat and started walking towards her direction, making her slowly back away, “Me? Perverted? Sweetheart, I don’t know what you’re thinking but I would rather get obliterated for you anytime because it’ll be amusing to see you try and fail every single damn time.”

He continues on walking towards her, making her back away more. Seonghwa stopped a meter away and laughed, “Look at you, threatening me not so early yet cowering under my power.”

Y/n fixed her posture, still keeping the same glare she had earlier and Seonghwa can see that she’s trying to match his own flame, “I am not your underling.” She said, emphasizing each word, “I will never be one of those who will be under you. Not going to praise you or kiss your feet as you sit on your throne.”

“No? That’s a first.” Seonghwa let out an amused laugh and walked closer until he successfully trapped her on the wall and placed an arm on the side of her head while the other wraps around her waist, “Do you know what happens to people who tells me no, sweetpea?”

“No and I don’t fucking care about it.”

They both held eye contact with each other, Seonghwa being drowned deep in her deep brown eyes, a similar feature she shares with her twin. She looks absolutely ravishing and wonderful at the same time and Seonghwa knows that he can spend his lifetime staring at those eyes. However, the thought of having someone stare at it that is not him makes him so annoyed. He wants to have her all to himself only and as he said earlier, he doesn’t like sharing what’s rightfully his.

Not knowing that his thoughts has an effect on his body language, his hand that’s on her waist turned into a fist, effectively crumbling her uniform which became noticeable to her.

“Hey—”

“Go on a date with me, y/n.”

“What?!”

“A date. With me.”

She looked at him like he had gone crazy as she pushed her away from him but she also couldn’t help but notice the heat that was spreading like wildfire in her face, “Have you gone crazy? Fuck no, I won’t go on a date with you.”

Y/n opened the door to the lounge room, losing the motivation to finish her own paperworks. But before she could leave, she uttered her last words, “I’ll never date you, Park. Fucking hell, you annoy me so much to the point that I don’t want to associate myself with you. I hate you.”

And with that, she left him all alone there, broken and sad. The feeling of rejection settling heavily on his heart.

—

It’s been a week and Hongjoong is beyond confused.

He just wants to know the answer as to why Seonghwa, his best friend who’s been so utterly whipped with his sister ever since he first laid his eyes on her, has been flirting and messing around with random girls at their academy.

It’s not like Hongjoong is supportive of him and his twin sister possibly dating, not to mention that it makes him gag knowing that Seonghwa is terribly crushing over his girl version, but he can’t do anything about it.

What Seonghwa wants, he gets.

So back to his current dilemma where he’s just shopping with his sister for gifts to be distributed on their family reunion, he saw Seonghwa enter a random lingerie store with a girl.

Well yes, they’re of age to be kinky since eighteen is the age of exploration but he knows his best friend is not the type to fuck around (haha) with anyone, claiming that he only wants his sister which always make Hongjoong gag at the thought of it.

He didn’t know that he'd been staring at the shop Seonghwa and the girl had entered upon until his sister spoke up, “Hey Joong, do you think I should wear this to the reunion?”

Getting no answer from his fashionista brother, Y/n curiously looked at him as she tore her gaze away from the dress she’s holding, only to see him looking far away.

Frowning she called, “Joong.”

Still no response.

“Hongjoong..” Still nothing.

“Kim Hongjoong!”

It made the man owning that name jump up in shock and looked at his sister, “Y-yes?”

“What are you looking at?” She asked, also staring at where Hongjoong was looking on earlier only to spot a.. lingerie store? She deadpanned at her brother and was about to speak but a person walking out on the other shop caught her attention.

It’s Seonghwa.. with her best friend Aera.

She felt something hurt in her chest, already knowing what it is as she’s been keeping it within her for a long time. She looked away from the scene, “I see you’ve spotted your best friend and are much more interested in joining him?”

Hongjoong looked at his sister in shock, “Goodness bubs, no. I was just curious as to why Seonghwa has been messing around with girls in the academy. Just trying to get a good look with the girl and..” He lost trail of his thoughts when he glanced at his sister and saw a pained expression on her face, “Y/n, you okay?”

With the question, she looked back at her brother with curious eyes, “I am, why did you ask?”

“You look.. pained.” His brother answered and grabbed her by her forearm gently, “Did something happen?”

“Nothing.”

Her sassy twin brother rolled his eyes, “Don’t you ‘nothing’ me, Ms. Kim. I know you’ve been out of yourself lately not to mention that you’ve been neglecting your student council duties lately.” She looked shocked at what her brother had said and was about to speak but Hongjoong cut her to it, “Don’t ask me how I knew but Seonghwa is nonfunctional as well without his secretary. He’s been passing every single one of his work to Yunho.”

Hongjoong lets out a sigh, “And not to mention he missed an important meeting the day the chaos nearly broke out in front of the student council’s lounge room.”

Silence engulfed the twins, making Hongjoong’s gears on his brain work more as he tried to remember what happened that day that could possibly be the root of Seonghwa’s… unusual behavior.

He tried to think more and it’s like a thunderbolt has striked unto his brain, “Ah! Didn’t Seonghwa declare that you’re his that day too? We were just talking about how he wants to ask you out for a date that same morning. He even asked me for permission.”

“H-He what?”

“He wants to ask you on a date?” Hongjoong’s eyes widen, “Wait didn’t he..?”

“N-No, the other one.”

“He asked me for permission to date you? That one?”

Feeling her knees giving up, Y/n sat down on the chair nearby, “Fuck, I thought he was just messing with me.”

“Messing with wha–” Hongjoong spluttered and gave his sister an expression looking as if she had done something scandalous, “Hwa is not someone who likes messing around. Though he likes to assert dominance, he means every single thing that comes out from his mouth. I thought you, of all people besides me, should know this.”

Y/n just sighed, “That was before, Joong.”

“Okay I don’t fucking care anymore but what made you think that he’s messing around with you?”

“You know what he did before, right? I still like him so fucking much and he just played around with my feelings. Saying that maybe I got it wrong or that I’m just desperate to date someone because most of my girl friends are dating too.”

Hongjoong face palmed as he recalled what happened that day. He was aware of what happened that night, especially since it was his parents who warned him that his favorite sibling (don’t tell his older brother) came inside her room crying. He also remembered how he carefully knocked at her door only for her to open it and throw herself in her twin brother’s arms. Y/n cried herself to exhaustion but of course, she was able to tell Hongjoong the reason why she was a wreck that very day.

He was ready to punch Seonghwa the next day only to be confused as to why the other man doesn’t know the reason why his best friend, Y/n, was ignoring him.

And that’s when Hongjoong realized that they’re both dumb.

“Scary how feelings and misunderstanding combined together can cause two people to drift apart.” Hongjoong mindlessly said making his sister look at him, “What did you say?”

He frowned more and looked at y/n dead in the eye, “Talk to him on the day of the festival.”

“Fuck no–”

“Talk to him, I swear to God. Clear the bad air between the two of you.” Hongjoong lets out a deep sigh. He’s getting even more stressed and this isn’t even his own lovelife yet, “Y/n, bub, you always rant to me how Seonghwa had changed, how he became arrogant blah blah blah but I’ve been meaning to say that between the two of you, it’s you who changed the most.”

“The Seonghwa you’ve known.. is still your Seonghwa. He never changed, y/n. He’s still the same kind hearted guy who you cuddle with on our couch at home while binge watching random cat videos on youtube.”

“You.. y/n, where’s my sweet considerate little twin who always looks at the two sides of the coin? Gone. Too carried away with her false bitterness and got too hot headed.”

Y/n looked away from her brother. This is Kim Hongjoong speaking. If there’s anyone else who knows Seonghwa well, it’s him.

She’s been in pain and swallowed herself in a sea of bitterness for four fucking years that she refused to listen to Seonghwa’s side even if he tried for to do so.

But there’s two questions that linger in her mind, “Joong, why did he stop trying to reach out for me?”

“It’s because you never let him to. He knows that you’ve become closed off and shut him out for good. He did everything, even going to the extent of self appointing you as his secretary just so he can look after you.”

Oh..

Now she feels bad and feels like crying but no, she won’t let herself break until her final question gets answered. Looking at his brother one more time who’s now typing away in his phone, she lets out her final question, “Does he really like me like I like him, Joong?”

Her brother glanced at her and shook his head no and she deflated..

She lost her chance.

“He loves you already, y/n.”

—

The day of the festival came and Seonghwa is sweating a lot.

He came about an hour ago to check on things last minute and after that, he spent the remaining time he had to look around the grounds only to be disappointed as he didn’t see the person he was looking for.

Deciding that he cannot take it anymore, he fished out his phone from his pocket and texted the person he wants to talk to.

To: Aera ☆

Where are you? The festival starts in 30 mins.

Sent 6:30pm

He lets out another anxious sigh as he fixes his clothes, deciding that it’s the most interesting thing to do in order to distract himself.

Yunho had planned the festival very well according to Seonghwa’s wishes. At first, the vice president was reluctant to accept the duties but when he found out his reasons (and not to mention the fact that his friend looks so heartbroken and lost) he decided to take everything in his own accord, but of course, he still has the guidance of Seonghwa even if the said president is busy with.. other things.

His phone buzzed in his pocket once again and he read the message as he fished it out.

From: Aera ☆

Calm down, I’m on my way.

Sent 6:35pm

To: Aera ☆

Did you bring it?

Sent 6:35pm

From: Aera ☆

Yep!!

Sent 6:37pm

To: Aera ☆

Okay good, see you!

Sent: 6:38pm

He waited for the female and it didn’t take him that long when he started to see a female figure towards him with a cage on her hand. Seonghwa met her half way to get the cage from her and shot her a thankful smile, “Thank you. I hope this one will work.”

Aera shot him a smile, “No problem, dude. I swear it should work. Y/n’s been giving me daggers lately and my boyfriend is just trying to steer her away from me so this one will successfully work.”

Seonghwa let out a chuckle, “Do you think she thought we’re dating or something? You know, since she doesn’t know about the whole Seojun thing.”

The female pretended to gag, “God fucking hell, we may have spent our years in Australia together but god fucking damn it that’s the most disgusting thought ever.”

This time, Seonghwa really did laugh loud at his friend’s antics, “Yep, disgusting.”

The both of them laughed and decided to part ways right after. He was trying to look for one person, only to see his friends near the fountain. Seonghwa approached them and San was the first person to notice him.

“Hey, Hwa. What’s that?” He asked pertaining to the cage he was holding.

“Oh this?” Seonghwa replied and dropped it on the glass then opened its gates and pulled out a white british shorthair, “This.”

San couldn’t help but squeal, “It’s so cute! Is this yours?”

“Uhm, no. It’s for someone.”

The whole time the exchange between San and Seonghwa’s been happening, Hongjoong has been staring at his other friend for a while now. Seonghwa seemed currently relaxed but anxious, always failing to hide what he feels.

But the question is, what made him so anxious?

“Wait. So hyung, you’re courting someone?”

Seonghwa scratched the back of his head, using the hand that’s not holding the cat, “Only if she lets me court her though.”

San made a noise of confusion and before Seonghwa could answer, Hongjoong called him.

“Yes, Joong?”

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The two oldest strutted far away from their friends and Hongjoong caressed the cat’s head as it nuzzles in his hand. When they found a good location on the grounds, he spoke once again, “Hwa, did you find someone already?”

The man in question just smiled sadly, “You, out of all people should know the answer to that.”

Letting out a sigh, Hongjoong pats his friend at the back, “She’s at the garden.”

Seonghwa couldn’t help but smile, he loves how he doesn’t have to elaborate things yet Hongjoong will still get what he meant, “Thanks, Joong.”

“You’re welcome, dude.”

They were about to part ways when Hongjoong called him once again. He looked back at his friend with a questioning gaze as the other had a genuine smile plastered on his face, “Make sure to tell her everything and end this night with a kiss okay?”

Seonghwa felt himself blush as he let out a light hearted chuckle, “Aye aye, captain.”

—

“Hwa, I like you. I’m sorry.”

“God fucking damn it, that’s not it.”

“I miss the old us, I like you.”

“What the fuck, that sounds like we broke up and I want to make up with him.”

Letting out a frustrated groan, y/n couldn’t help but shout at the silence of the garden, “Fucking hell, Park Seonghwa, I want to fucking kiss you because I like you– no, I love you! Why is it so hard to say?”

meow..

She was startled a bit by the cat noise, making her look at the direction from where it came from only to flush a deep shade of red as she saw the figure of man who now has a freshly dyed black hair and an eyeglasses sitting atop of his nose bridge, holding a white cat on his right arm with an astonished look on his face.

“H-Hey.” Y/n awkwardly said as she started playing with the hem of her skirt.

“H-Hi, did I hear that right?”

Y/n blushed even more (if that’s even possible) and she couldn’t look at the man before her but she nodded her head in confirmation.

Seonghwa no longer spoke and the only thing she could hear were the footsteps nearing and the strong scent of manly perfume that she loved so much.

“Kim y/n, look at me.”

She didn’t. She was too afraid to see the new reaction from the man’s handsome face. Her head remained hung low for a while until Seonghwa lifted her face up with a finger on her chin.

Her breath hitched when he saw nothing but full love and admiration in his eyes, much like the look her Seonghwa used to look at her before whenever she does something adorably stupid.

“Hi there, love. Were you scared to look at me that I have to raise your head up?”

Y/n felt her eyes tearing up, her lips wobbling but she nodded nonetheless, “I missed you, Hwa.”

Seonghwa just softly smiled and planted a kiss on her forehead, “I missed you too, angel. I’m glad that you didn’t let your ice queen attributes take over you.”

She let out a wet chuckle and looked at the cat he was holding, “It’s so cute, when did you get a cat then decided to flex it around the school?”

“Ma’am, this cat is yours,” Seonghwa said as he gently placed the cat in her arms, “I named her Aeongi. I adopted this one a week ago since this is my last resort on how to woo you.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow in suspicion, “A week ago? Weren’t you too busy snooping girls left and right during those times? I even saw you enter a fucking lingerie store with Aera at some point!”

Seonghwa let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Aera is my childhood friend and she asked me for company because she wants to buy lingerie for herself to surprise her boyfriend on their anniversary.”

“What?” It took y/n a while to process everything before she spoke again, “Aera has a boyfriend?”

Seonghwa nodded in confirmation and she asked once again, “But why did she ask for your company? She could've asked me?”

“Well it’s because we were planning to pick up Aeongi at the shelter that time. And you know her family owns every single existing animal shelter around our area, right?”

Y/n face palmed herself before letting herself fall in Seonghwa’s chest, careful not to squish the cat, “Damn it, I got mad and jealous at her for nothing”

Seonghwa pats her head, “It’s okay, lovebug, let it out.”

She snorted and pulled herself away from her (future) lover and smacked him in the chest, “What’s your answer to my accidental confession, though?

The male pointed at Aeongi and she scoffed, “What–”

“She’s our precious child. Since I still can’t physically put a baby in you since we still both want to be a licensed doctor, I’m giving you that cat as a sign that you’re stuck with me forever as long as Aeongi exists in our heart.” He fidgets with his back pockets and successfully retrieves a neat envelope, “And if you're looking for a full blast emotion, here you go. It’s a letter of confession with every single feeling poured out on it.”

Y/n was about to open the envelope but Seonghwa held her hand to stop, “Read it at home but for now let me kiss you.”

She couldn’t help but giggled and immediately pulled him by the collar of his sweater, successfully colliding their lips in a kiss until it turned a little heated, moving in an equal rhythm and Seonghwa decided to stop making her whine.

“Baby, I really want us to reach college before doing the even more heated stuff. But for now, let me ask you. Will you be my girlfr–”

“Yes.”

Seonghwa was dumbfounded but y/n was already leaning in for another kiss but he spoke, “Too excited?”

“Waited for too long.” She murmured and connected their lips once again, sharing the sweetness underneath the moonlight illuminating over them.

Y/n,

Hey, it’s me, Seonghwa. I wrote this one without any knowledge of what will happen tonight but whatever it is, I’m happy that it happened. But yeah, I just want to say that I really love you so much. Yes, love. I started to fall for you by the time I went back from Australia, having to enroll late to the academy because I just got home that time. You, aside from Hongjoong, are the one who approached me first, having to greet me like the sun is shining up on me.

Starting that time, we became closer especially when we found out that we live in neighboring homes. I always come over to your place, watching cartoons, playing switch, reading, doing homeworks together and even napping. Everything continued on and by that time, I was already fully aware of what I feel for you.

When we were in 9th grade, I wasn’t expecting for you to confess to me but I thought you were just joking because the girls around you started to date and maybe you want what they have so you decided to fool around me since I’m your friend so I told you that I don’t like you the same and maybe I could’ve just shut up during that time.

The next day, I was so excited to tell you about our upcoming trip to Switzerland for the winter only for you to avoid me and not talk to me. I was so confused and got even more confused when Hongjoong punched me in the face and told me that you’ve been crying. I only had one question on my mind, why were you crying? Who made you cry?

Turns out, it was me. Lol.

But yeah, right after that you changed. The very patient and sweet person I know became hot headed. You stopped looking at my direction so I decided to change too. You, the ever so gorgeous person I’ve known, are the talk of the town. A lot of people, specifically boys, have been wanting to date you.

At one point, I heard some of them talk maliciously about you and I couldn’t help but punch them in the face and that’s where I experienced my first detention. I sacrificed a lot for you. I nearly got kicked out of school for initiating fights and it’s all because I want to protect you without letting you know. I was given the chance to run for presidency and luckily, I won. With a few strings I pulled, I was able to appoint you as my secretary but I told the coordinator to say that they appointed you instead because of your good class performance.

So yeah, I started loving you from afar until that thing in front of the student council lounge broke out. I didn’t like how he held you, how he gripped your arm and I just wanted to punch him dead in the face right there but I didn’t want to freak you out so I decided to claim you as mine.

If that made you uncomfortable, I’m so sorry.

But yeah, I’m actually really not sorry too because it feels good to claim you as mine.

Hopefully, by the time you were reading this letter, you, Ms. Kim Y/n, are officially mine and will be working side by side with me on the student council lounge again. Strictly right beside me or on my lap.

No joke.

But if you’re not mine right after this, then please take care of Aeongi well (at least I’m certain you’ve kept her. You can’t say no to cats) and I hope you find your true happiness soon.

I love you so much, Kim Y/n.

With love,

Your Hwa

taglist: @masterninjacow @little-precious-baby @treasure-hwa @yunhobabygurl

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junova · 3 years

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↬ 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐭 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

abstract: the one where steve finds your love letters.

pairing: au!steve x fem!reader

word count: 3K+

warnings: cussing, fluff, angst, crying, slight self-deprecation.

[author’s note]: hey guys! i’m really new to the writing scene so kind words are appreciated! srsly just testing my writing style out and wanted to just post something to motivate me to keep writing. hope u like it. <3

also thank u ari for the inspo and that bomb ass album that saved twenty-twenty. now we just need biden to get elected.

ps. don’t forget to vote! <3

Stevie,

First and foremost, I want you to know how proud of you I am. You have become the man you’ve said you become, the one I always knew you would. You have finally seen what the rest of us see.

A good man.

The soul you carry within you shines brighter than I’ve ever seen. Just for that only, I’m thankful for the time we’ve spent together. Maybe one day, I’ll be brave enough to tell you this without hiding behind the comfort of this notebook. She won’t spill my secrets, fortunate for me.

Some days you have no idea how badly I want to tell you. I think it’s on the days I discover a new fleck of green in your eyes or maybe when you show up to class with a cup of coffee for me without request.

More. More. More.

It’s selfish of me, that much I know. More days than not, I would say you give too much of yourself away. Always wanting to appease everyone, you, Steven Rogers, the bridge to making the people around you happier than they walked in. Even when Bucky drags you into his nonsense bullshit, you say yes without hesitation.

I’ve got not a a clue on how you continue on, how you still remain you when you tend to spread yourself so thin. Who watches out for you? Who cares for you? Who loves the almighty, selfless Rogers?

For me, it’s much easier to pretend you carry too much on your plate than to deal with the rejection I would receive from you. You’re just too good, more than I deserve. More than I would be willing to take. I know I couldn’t possibly give you what you deserve but, I hope that one day you might see me differently. You would see me more than the light I’ve painted myself in.

Even though the shade is lovely, I want to be deeper. Deeper into you on a level which only seems unattainable at this point.

A forever friend. To be in your life, just as a friend, is an reward in itself.

But someday I hope you would love me in the same way I do. It’s all a love struck girl could do. Hope for the best, bet be prepared for the downfall.

With much love, your forever friend.

Tearing the page away from the binding of the overfilled notebook, dispensing it in the first empty drawer you could find, you abandoned the feelings as soon as the pen’s ink bleed out dry.

“You know it would just be easier to tell him how you feel.” You peaked up at the sound of her voice, before realizing she was looming over you, watching your write the letter.

Your supposed, secret letter.

“Nat, please. No.” Opening the drawer, she grabbed the letter but was surprised with just how many she found.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve written about him multiple times?” You sank in the soft, plush material of your seat hoping that just maybe it would begin to swallow you whole. Hopefully, fast enough were you wouldn’t have to endure the rest of the conversation. One you had been trying to avoid, for the past three years.

“It’s nothing Nat, just forget it.” Just like a Romanov, she couldn’t leave it alone. Even if she tried it was laced in her blood to see any little thing through.

“You really shouldn’t wait so long. A window might close for you, much sooner than you think.” With a curious eyebrow lifted, you felt your breath leave you.

“What does that supposed to mean?” Steve certainly deserved the best and you knew it was only time for him to figure out you would never be enough for him.

“Peggy Carter.” Peggy.

The one girl of a sea of many who had been enamored by Steve. He never really seemed to spend anytime with the women who vied for his attention, but Peggy was surely different than the rest.

Even if Steve was oblivious when it came to the advances everyone would make on him, he saw Peggy. Considering she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, she intimidated you. God, did she ever.

On numerous occasions she and Steve had gone out, and even though he assured you they were just friends you were starting to believe he was only trying to protect your feelings. As a friend.

He had never cancelled on you once for her and he would tell you if he had started to date someone, just like he had before.

Even though the entire three years you’d known him he only had one serious girlfriend and after eight months, the pair broke up and even now he still didn’t budge on why they broke up.

“Steve can do whatever he wants with her. He’s a single man. He’s gone out with her before and he’ll probably go with her again.” Then Sam was the next to speak up, dismissing the total bullshit spouting from your mouth.

“Can’t you see he doesn’t want to? The damn man follows you around like a goddamn puppy.” Okay, when did he even come in here?

“God, fuck, no he doesn’t. He would have said something by now, he’s had three years and it’s been nothing but radio silence.” With an all knowing smirk, Sam proposed a new concept into question.

“It has been three years. So, have you ever said anything to him?”

Shit. Fuck you, Wilson.

“W-Well, not exactly.” Sam didn’t have to say anything in response. You knew he was right and you hated it.

Your unwillingness still stood for you, there was just no way he actually would reciprocate your feelings.

“Listen, I think it would be really good for the both of you to air everything out. Peggy is sinking her claws in him and it isn’t too long before they get stuck. Just talk to him.” You nodded silently, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever have the courage to.

—

Emptiness.

It’s all you seemed to feel today. Following you around was a dark cloud, looming over you. Wishing you could be anywhere but your own body. Nothing in particular happened to make you deserve the feeling you were granted with. It just so happened to be one of those days.

From the moment you got out of bed — or rather stayed in bed until four in the afternoon, you felt like anything you would have done just didn’t feel enough. The feeling was fleeting, never staying for more than a day or so, but it made the day drag on. Never ending.

Your muscles sore, body aching from the lack of activity your presumed. Or maybe you had built it in your head too.

Thankfully for you, Nat was busy helping Bucky move into his new place the entire day. She asked if you wanted to help, but mentally you didn’t feel you would be useful for anyone. Simply, telling her you would hang back, claiming you had another an essay to write.

Which you did, you weren’t completely lying, but there was more than your sour mood to blame for your dismissal of social interaction.

You hated to be that girl, the one who needed the presence of men. Specifically, the company of one very beautiful, blue eyed one.

His absence in your life the past few weeks felt heavier on you than you thought it would. You knew from Sam’s intel he had been hanging out with Peggy more and more. He said the two of them were getting close, mercifully sparing you the details.

You hated it’s you’d become. A girl so damn struck over a boy who was giving his attention elsewhere. Upset you were though. Before even if he was busy between classes and his internship at the gallery, he would still text to check up on you.

Now, it was nothing but radio silence letting you draw conclusions on your own. Very, very dangerous territory for you to travel to.

Steve and you are just friends. Get. Over. It.

You thought you’d be alone the rest of the Saturday, especially since it was nearly midnight. Figuring Nat was staying over at Bucky’s and Wanda leaving earlier in early hours of the morning to see her boyfriend for the entire weekend.

Then, an incredibly drunk Steve stumbled into your quaint apartment, the thoughtfully sweetness in him blubbering out with the alcohol flooding through his system. It was like he was on overdrive. More than ready to crash at any given moment.

You had enough when Steve started shamelessly raiding your kitchen, but you remained on the couch attempting to maintain some distance between the two of you. He had a history of being incredibly handsy whenever he had bit too much to drink.

Stumbling his way over to you, almost tripping on the rug, until he was basically cuddling up to your side. His arms latched tightly around you, pulling you into him. Not spared a choice, not that you’d want one.

The security of being wrapped up to him wasn’t something you ever grew tired of. You don’t think there would ever be a time you would ever be capable of turning him away.

“I’ve missed you. It’s been too long.” His soft tone, penetrating the tiny resistance you held towards him. “Me too. I was starting to think you disappeared on me, bubba.”

“Never.” His iron grip holding so tight like he was afraid you’d slip right through.

“Is everything alright?” Trying to pull from him, but Steve seemed unable to let you go. You whispered in his ear, caressing his back.

“I think so.”

“Here, let me grab you cup of joe and some water. Okay? I’ll be right back.” Leaving him a kiss on the cheek, before heading him into the kitchen.

If you had been around him recently, perhaps you would be more in tune with how he was feeling. Then the guilt sept in.

“Sweetheart, do you know where the phone charger is? It’s not by the recliner.” You heard him shout, trying to stop your heart from hammering into your stomach.

Just make him some coffee, sober him up, until he crashes.

Steve always seemed to be a lightweight and somehow whenever he did decide to drink he always found himself routing his way into your home. You thought it was simply for accident alone. The bar he frequented at was only a few block from you.

The past few times he would just stumble into your bedroom, immediately passing out in your soft, silky sheet. Now, he seemed to have more pressing matters at hand.

“Check the drawers, Stevie. I think there’s one you left around here somewhere.” You grabbed the filters and the grounds out, brewing the coffee. Soon, with a black cup of coffee and a water bottle in hand you took note of just how quite he was being.

He was never this silent and it was freaking you out.

“Are you sure you’re o-”

Just like that.

Fuck.

Hunched over, practically on his knees, he read over the endless letters you wrote about him. Confessions never meant to be seen by him. You lost track of how many you had written over the past few years once realized how irrevocably in love with him you are.

He didn’t realize you had found him and you were suddenly paralyzed. Unaware of your presence he continued to read through them and his expression was unrecognizable. One you’d never seen from him before, and you didn’t quite know how to react.

No. He wasn’t grimacing nor did he seem to be elated either. He just stood there just like you, afraid what would happen next.

What did this mean for the two of you? Your entire relationship was purely riding on whatever happened next.

Softly, with a gentle hand, he sifted through them all like he was looking for something specifically. Steve let them fall to the hardwood floors as your shaking hands could no longer support the weight of the dainty coffee cup he had actually sculpted himself.

The glass shattering everywhere, several pieces making their way towards him, thankfully not fiercely enough to penetrate his skin.

Truly, you had never been more sorry than when he looked up at you with tears in his eyes. Threatening to spill over. Because of you.

You didn’t have to be told, you already knew.

Carefully, Steve stood up making his way over to you around the shattered mug. Still you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Simply just watching him until he was right in front of you — more silent than you’d ever seen him before.

“Those were about me. Weren’t they?” You nodded having no reason to lie other than to protect yourself from a rejection you been hoping to spare yourself from.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this. Or at all really.” Your resolve dropping instantly when Steve took a step further gripping by your hips, pulling you closer.

“Why not?” He questioned you, again. Almost like he needed a verbal affirmation of every secret he had just read.

Unintentionally, stealing your soul served for him on a silver platter.

“I know how you’d feel about me, Steve. It’s not how I want it to be and it’s okay.” You remove yourself from him, traveling to the other side of the living room. Suddenly, the apartment seemed suffocating with him in it. “I’m fine, Steve.”

Hearing him sigh in frustration only furthered your immense feeling of being a burden to him.

You’re just one more obstacle he has to deal with.

“One of them dated back for over two years ago. Two fucking years.” His harsh tone, piercing through you like a knife.

“I know. I should have told you.” You whispered, wishing you could disappear into any abyss that would take you. Deeply wishing you just didn’t have to endure for the rest of this conversation. Wishing you could have stopped him from opening that stupid drawer. “I tell you everything, but I just couldn’t bring myself to speak about this. Look at how you’re reacting? How could you blame me when every fear I have about this is justified?”

You really should have kept those elsewhere, not your open, public living room.

“Because it’s us. I’m always here for you.” He was still crying through broken words and you didn’t know why. Almost like you had shattered his resolve and his control leaving with it.

“Not lately. You’ve been otherwise occupied.” Suddenly find the plant in the corner of the room. It certainly weren’t trying to distract yourself from the insatiable cerulean eyes.

The breathtaking british woman wasn’t even here and as soon as she was brought up — there was a wall. Seperating, you from whatever was between the two of you.

“This isn’t my fault. You never said anything. How was I supposed to know you feel that way about me?” He tried to make his way towards you but you just stalked off in the other direction. Circling around the living room like a coward.

“It didn’t matter though, did it? You found someone perfect for you regardless of how you feel.” God, you wish he would just leave so you could let the dam break.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Since the moment I met you I only had eyes for you, but you never seemed like you were interested. So, I dropped it. Okay? You never left me a crumb to think you would ever want to be more than just friends.”

“You were my best friend. You still are. No matter how I felt, it could never outweigh the need I have for you to be in my life.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. Trying to figure out what was next for the both of you. Steve always had to initiate and this time was no different.

“Peggy told me tonight she wants to be exclusive.” His confession washing over you like a ton of bricks. Crushing you.

You really couldn’t have any ill feeling towards her, she was just doing what you lacked the courage and the tenacity to do.

“But I didn’t really know what to do.” He took quiet steps towards you, not wanting to spook you. He voice not no longer held the a warmth of teddy bear, but a man on a mission rather took over.

Steve kept quiet until he had you backed up into a corner, no escape route in vision for you.

“’Cause there’s this other beautiful woman, absolutely breathtaking — and I just I really needed to know how she felt. If I had known before, I never would have gone anywhere else.” His hand caressing your soft, plump lips. Pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb, sending you into a frenzy.

“Then, I just wanted to forget about everything until Sam called me. Three beers deep, when he told me of a drawer filled with letters I should take a look at.” You could feel his breath on you, temple pressed against yours.

“I just need to hear you say it. Just once.” Taking it a step forward, intertwining your finger with his own.

“I love you.” It was all he needed as he sealed his own affirmation with a sweet kiss, inking your lips with all of his love.

#for the love of god let these tags work :/#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #college!steve rogers #au #mcu #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction

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imonthinice · 3 years

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 20/?

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - your name

***IMPORTANT*** The Criminal Psychology majors will be taking a temporary hiatus as I’m getting my second dose of the vaccine today<3 I don’t know when I’ll be coming back because I don’t want to burn myself out on this series just to give content while I’m gone, yknow

Warnings: Swearing, Forgetfulness, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

They danced and sung the night away at the Gala. It ended at around 2:00am and everyone went back to the Wayne Manor.

Somehow it came out that they should play Uno of all things. Uno is known for being the “Friendship Ruiner” or the “Relationship Ruiner” of the world. So, of course, they played it. Why wouldn't they?

Y/N dealt the cards. She was not quick about it. At all. She really struggled to deal the cards to the entire group, but she still tried. It was the thought that counted. Or at least she thought it did.

But no one seemed to mind she was a little slower with her cards-dealing. Which was different to the up-beat, face-paced life all of them lead. One would have expected that they would want a crazy fast dealer, but no one cared.

They played well into the night, with Jason ending up tapping-out and laying in Y/N’s lap. She played with his hair and leaned down to show him the good cards she got, at least until he fell asleep. She spent the time bonding with his family.

They had always liked her. From the first time they all met her, they knew she was going to be something real. They were even impressed that Jason and her hadn’t fought yet. They were both hot-headed when they wanted to be, so when it was obvious that they put the relationship ahead of their own prides, it was something else.

They knew of the first time they had one of these moments. Y/N was at a dance competition, but Jason had to dip because of “Family Issues”, she was upset. Of course, she wanted him there and it looked like they were going to get into a huge spat about it. But, when she won that competition, she got up there and she said,

“This one is for my family, my friends, the extension of my family,” she paused, “And my boyfriend, Jason.” She smiled, “He isn’t here right now because of family issues, but he told me to follow my dreams, and here I am,” she said while raising her medal slightly, “This one was for you, baby.”

And that’s when his family knew that pride was stupid to them. Relationships are growing, changing together. And while they both stayed hot-headed, they changed that slight detail in themselves to be better partners. It was admirable.

Y/N ended up winning the last game. Half of the Waynes were sleeping, either at the coffee table where they were playing or in their rooms. She glanced over to the clock, 6:00am. She knew her parents were getting up soon, so she texted her mom,

Hey mum! So do you still want Jay and I to come over for the barbeque?

And she nudged him a little. Everyone else had left the room, so she was trying to wake him up. So they could go to his room. He groaned.

“Baby, do you want to sleep in your bed?” she whisper-asked him, leaning down to his ear and stroking his hair. He groaned and got up, started walking to his room. She followed suit. He was on his bed and passed out before she even got up there.

She laughed and walked over to him, fumbling with his suit jacket. He mumbled something about taking him on a date first, and she laughed again.

“C’mon, work with me here, you’re going to be uncomfortable if you sleep in your suit, my love.”

He groaned and took off his jacket before unbuttoning his shirt, while she got his belt undone.

“God, take me on a date first,” he mumbled.

“Shh,” she said, placing a finger over his lips, “Just go to bed, Jay.”

He sloppily kissed her neck before she cupped his face and used her position to straddle him to the bed. She kissed his forehead before getting off of him and going through his clothes. She needed something, a shirt, pants, anything she could wear.

She fumbled with getting her own dress and gloves off, ending up throwing the dress over his desk chair, hoping it would minimize wrinkling. She undid her corset and threw it on his desk. Her heels were sitting at his desk chair. The gloves on his desk.

She crawled into bed with him, being the big spoon, burying her face behind his neck. She pulled out her phone to look at her texts. One from Artemis,

Hey, dude. That dress, oh my God?

She laughed into Jason’s shoulder and sent back, I know. I know. I know. I killed it. You can’t say I didn’t.

You’re literally so right because again, oh my God. You did NOT need to wipe the floor with the rest of the guests. I mean, Selina was there and you were on her level.

That’s impressive. Selina is stunning. But I’d argue I was just below every Wayne lady.

Well, eventually you’ll be a Wayne lady.

C’mon. It’s been 6 months.

You say that like the thought hasn’t crossed your mind at least once.

Yeah, but I don’t talk to anyone about it.

You should start talking about it. Most people think about their weddings.

Okay, anyway. Why are you up so early?

I was studying most of the night with Wally.

Ah, “Studying”. Nice.

I wish! No, we were actually studying. Not like you and Jay at your little Gala. Actually had to study.

I have to study too, but exams are like next week.

Wish I could relate. Mine are today.

And you didn’t sleep? Dude.

Shh, you’re not my mom.

She laughed and fell asleep cuddling Jason. Her phone was opened, so it died.

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

Jason woke up first. Looking at the time, it was 12:00pm. Y/N was sleeping behind him, still loosely holding him. He smiled. He hoped that the night before had fixed some of the issues between them. Well, he hoped there was no issues.

He didn’t want work to be more stressful than it already was. But, they were having issues. He thought it was because of finals, but he feared there was more to it. Maybe it was the fact that he’s famous. Maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t handle the fame. He hoped it wasn’t anything to do with the fame.

But the comment about the people with daggers at her throat obviously wasn't about anyone else. It was the press. He knew she had issues with the press. He always would. She always would. He wouldn’t blame her if she walked away from him because of the press. Break up or a break, she was allowed to give up because of the press. He hoped she didn’t. He hoped she never would. He didn’t want to jinx them, but he really, really, hoped that this wouldn’t end in flames.

He looked at her. He remembered the first moment he knew he loved her. They were having dinner at this hole-in-the-wall restaurant that he had seen on patrol one night. She was scarfing down the food, and he wiped away the mess on her face with his thumb. He knew then. He knew in that moment that that was it. She was it.

He was whipped and he knew it. But every time his siblings or dad brought it up, he mentioned current or past relationships they had. The only people who weren’t whipped in the Wayne household were the women.

Or maybe the all were, they were just good at hiding it. He turned around and cuddled her back He stroked her hair. He ran his fingers through her hair.

She did it to him a lot. Physical affection was something that he was used to at this point. He still didn’t know how to feel about it, but he had ended up letting Dick hug him more often. He didn’t say it was because of her, because she didn’t outright run up to him expecting hugs, she was okay with hand holding and small touches of affection. It wasn’t because of her that he started letting people in.

But he did think she was a turning point for him. For his affection. His love style. She gave a damn about him and made it clear. It wasn’t like love he was used to, but it also opened his mind to people trying to love him.

She shifted around a bit. She ended up turning her back to Jason so he became the big spoon, and he buried his face in her hair. She groaned and tugged at the blanket on his bed, pulling it onto the two of them. He helped her get it on them. She groaned again.

“You up?” he whispered.

“No... I’m in deep sleep,” she said with a slur to her speech.

“My mistake, really.”

“It is.”

He pulled her closer, “Can you wake up?”

“No.”

“That’s sad. I wanted to talk.”

“You can talk.”

“Okay so,” he said, “I realised something. Some people would say you’re changing me, that I’m becoming someone else because of you,” he paused, “I’d have to disagree. You’re not doing anything.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re just inspiring me to do better. You influence me. You don’t intentionally go in and change me, I change because I love you.”

“That’s nice honey.”

“You could pretend you’re interested in what I have to say, my love.”

“I’m tired, Jay.”

“I danced you to Hell, I guess.”

She groaned, “I guess I can’t go back to bed, now,” she flexed her wrist, “You’ve interrupted my sleep.”

He cuddled in closer to her, “I am not sorry.”

“Of course you’re not, why would you be?” she said while she turned to face him, “You just want to see me.”

“Damn, you got me.”

She yawned, “We need to study eventually.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I just did.”

“School’s annoying. It’s on every last never but also none of them. It’s stressful but I also met you from it. It’s something I excel at but also causes me pain.”

“I know, babe. I know,” she said as she searched for her phone, finding it, dead and under her leg. “Fuck, killed my phone.”

“Where did you even have that all night?”

“Dress has pockets. But I didn’t bring my charger,” she sighed. “I had texted my mum too.”

“Texted your mom about what?”

“She wants us to go to a family barbeque after exams.”

“That’s so suburban of your family.”

“Yet they live in a massive city. I guess you'll see my family? you like them, don't you?” she asked.

He had met her family in January of that year. He got along with her mom and dad, in spite of the language barrier between him and her dad. There was difficulty understanding each other, but they got along in their love for rock music. It warmed Y/N’s heart.

Her mom liked him just because he made her happy. They didn’t really need to get along, but they did. They both cooked, and her mom had dragged him into helping her when Y/N was watching figure skating with her dad. Apparently they hit it off.

“I have literally no idea,” he said.

“How do you not know?”

“Your sister has something off about her.”

“You know, that’s fair. I don’t blame you for that one.”

“Yeah, have you noticed she’s very... obsessed with vigilantes?”

“And you thought I was obsessed,” she joked, “Yeah, she takes it a little too far. The whole, “I want to marry a vigilante to infiltrate and kill them” thing was obviously a joke, but I feel like there was some truth to it. That scares me.”

“Thank God I’m not the only one.”

“If you don’t like her, don’t worry about it. i don’t care if you like her. We’ve had a difficult relationship all or lives. If you can be civil, it’s a win.”

“Did you have an ex openly hate your sister?”

“Yep. And he’s an ex for a reason.”

“That’s fair. I would hate it if someone openly hated one of my siblings.”

“Unless it’s Dami.”

“Unless it’s Dami, that’s very true.”

“Still don’t know what you have against that kid, he’s very sweet.”

“That’s what he wants you to think.”

“Well, then its working.”

“What a master manipulator,” he laughed. “It’s the principle of the matter, Y/N.”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Y/N,” she mocked.

“Okay listen,” he laughed, “It is. He’s a menace.”

“But you love him.”

“It’s unfortunate. He's my brother, but he is also whatever. I don’t know. He’s amazing, he’s a genius, but who knows. Maybe one day we won’t fight all the time.”

“Imaging hoping you don’t fight with your sibling.”

“Family issues, amirite?”

She groaned and got over him, “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Fuck, I don’t know. Just need to get up, to be fair.”

“Coffee?”

“Eh, probably not.”

“That’s new.”

“You betcha. I don’t feel the affects of caffeine withdrawal yet.” She looked at her dress, it was wrinkled. Which was whatever. She knew it was going to happen. She went searching for all her stuff and put it on his desk. It was spread all out over his room, she didn’t know how it happened.

“How did your shit end up everywhere?” he asked.

“Probably the same way that all your shit ended up everywhere? I have no idea.”

“What, did we fuck?”

“No!” she laughed, “Do you not remember?”

“Days are blurring together, so.”

“Well that’s not... normal?”

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monkeydluffy19920 · 3 years

Note

Hi, love your blog. I wanna ask what do you think is the biggest SaNa hint from Oda?

Hiya @xebecx and many thanks for the feedback, much appreciated <3

Frankly spoken it’s hard to to name just one big hint since personally I think Oda-sensei likes to sprinkle the hints around when it comes down to SaNami and also with many ships too (like said, it’s all about interpretation). Reason why I started to see potential on their ship was that it feels like their relationship has had pretty smooth development during these years. We have a starting point where Sanji immediately catches his eye on Nami but on Baratie arc. she is benefiting this situation so she could bail out for paying the restaurant bill which is ok for Sanji though (and he makes the guys pay *laughs*)

In Arlong Park the rest of the Strawhats learn about her past which explains lots of thing. Sanji is the only one who doesn’t buy Nami’s betrayal act and defends her when others are against her despite the fact that they were aquantainces at this point of the story. After Arlong Park there has been some flirt between two of them although Nami still uses her charm to delegate tasks for Sanji and for her benefits.

Perhaps the first major development shipwise happens in Skypiea where Sanji’s sacrificial nature is revealed to Nami (since last time she was unconcious when he took the bullet for her and Luffy in Drum Kingdom so the captain could get her the doctor). Sanji did it so Nami and Usopp could escape safely and first time Nami actually hesitates to leave him all alone and later she shows gratitude for him (although at that point Sanji is unconcious now which is a nice parallel).

From shipper’s perspective, who would have thought that Totto Land and Zou arcs would include so much parallels that combine Nami and Sanji? First of all the wedding theme (this time just roles vice versa). Then she learns about his past from his relative, just like Sanji did back in Arlong Park. On top of that another Bellmere-like smile was revealed once he trew the farewell in Zou..

In my opinion the biggest development between them has happened when Nami and Sanji met in Totto Land since his departure. Those chapters offered so much tension and drama when Sanji first glared Nami angrily (hoping she would stop interrupting him) and then she later replies with a slap on face and teary eyes.

There are more detailed thoughts about emotional slaps in One Piece in this post but shortly said, Oda-sensei has used this element only on a few people throughout the series and it has always the purpose of showing that it things are serious and gone deep under the skin. Also after the things have calmed, in every slap there is a forgiveness and understanding and Nami’s slap isn’t exception.

Although Nami tends punch Sanji every once in a while (as a running gag) and for some reason Sanji is the only who get heart bumps, this slap was something serious and loaded with emotions. So, even without the shipping goggles, it’s obvious that she was hurt from to see her friend to act like sh*t without knowing the reasons because before this incident, she was the most powerful driving force in the retrieval mission.

At one point it honestly felt like the aftermath might not get any panels and despite many fans (including me) was wishing there could be a moment similar to @vichan91312‘s /@wiavi’s fanart where Sanji could show his vunerability and Nami would comfort him.

Oda-sensei wanted to yield the aftermath when it comes down to Nami’s and Sanji’s reconciliation although shipwise it would be more interesting that they would have an intimate moment and thought about the stuff. However, the way Oda-sensei decided to do it was more One Piece-stylish and maybe even more canon when it comes down to both of their characters.

So, instead of forcing them to face alone face to face- conversations which could have made both of them feel awkward, Oda-sensei decided that Nami would show the forgiveness not so straightforward-style (since there were other around too) plus it would anyway be more characteristic for her not to admit anything romantic directly.

First approach was toned with comedic elements when she had this “never going to forgive you”- tsundere-ish stuff which Sanji interprets as a proposal (just like after what Nami told him before she battled Kalifa). Anime even extended more the “aftermath tension” this with that corridor conversation). but later Nami welcomed him back with eyes filled with joy of reunion (and relief of her nakama being okay after that merry go-round on flames arc).

The panel below was a nice gesture from Oda-sensei too (in addition to the bridal carry) because he could also have dealt this all with so called “out of panels”-kind of style which would have left things a bit vague.

Honestly, it’s hard to decide only 1 hint that could be a “huge ice breaker”/turning point but perhaps this emotional slap and reconciliation are could turn into something bigger since along the way both Zou and Totto Land included many parallels to past arcs plus the more time has past, the more respectfully Nami is towards him. He is nowadays more than a fool to tool, he has become a good friend.

All in all, in the end we all shippers in the whole fandom should remember that eventually Oda-sensei is the one who decides the plot twists in canon and even if the ending wouldn’t turn as wanted it doesn’t mean anyone’s ship is ruined or deserves some mud on on it. Besides it’s easy to forget that even the author said that One Piece’s main goal is not romance but chasing dreams and the importance of friendships.

#answered #thanks #xebecx #one piece #nami #sanji #sanami #sannami #sanji x nami #otp #mellorine #long post #analysis #analyze #shipping #thoughts

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cloudninetonine · 3 years

Text

Cogito, ergo sum

Chapter: 2

Pairing: Connor (RK800) x fem!reader

A/N: Hey guys! I want to apologise for the long wait between chpaters but seeing as I’m on my last year of college my school work is coming before everything else so it’s a little hard working between them! Don’t worry, I’m not dropping this series or anything just expect chapters to take a little long to be loaded and everything! Also, this chapter seems a little too far paced for me, so sorry about that as well!

Tags at the bottom once again!

I do not own Detroit become human this is merely fanficion

Warnings: Bad language, physical assault, threats (?), hints of abuse, (Name) being weird like always, also angry (Name), mentions of drugs, there’s a bit of slander against drug abusers that I do not condone!

Undercut babes!

It’s fascinating, it really is, the way her beautiful gaze follows you as you round her, studying her feverishly, your eyes wide and bright.

She’s...well, words cannot describe her. Her beauty lies beyond your imagination and you’re not quite equipped to say anything that her magnificent ears deserve to hear, your words are below her and she’s just-

Wow.

“Ms (Last), please-”

You raise your hand towards the younger engineer, silencing with a small utter of ‘hush’ and he’s shutting his mouth, falling back to the side of your desk with not much else to say.

The android you’ve been un-shamelessly ogling for the past 10 solid minutes is still very quiet, she’s just watching you in her manufactured attire, shy, nervous, scared- everything you really wish she wasn’t right now because there is no way you want her to see you as some sort of threat, far from it.

“Henry” Turning back towards the engineer, he stiffs up like a board, sweat forming on his brow “Why didn’t you dismantle her?”

It’s rude, it’s horrible to say and it sours your mouth when you form those words, but it’s an honest question, you want to know why someone would do this, keep her alive, see her for all her glory.

The public spoke strongly about their opinions of androids, like toys to be played with, slaves to be worked, not the thing you so desperately wanted people to see them as. The masterpieces that stood beyond human comprehension.

The android lets out a noise similar to a whimper as Henry stammers out.

“I-I couldn’t she- um- I-” Finally, he sighs with frustration, Henry makes eye contact with you “She said was scared and...I couldn’t”

You snap back to face her.

“Is that true?”

She hesitates, one second, two seconds, three seconds, four- it takes a whole 30 seconds before she’s finally responding. “Yes…”

Your chest bursts in excitement.

“You’re incredible” Henry deflates in relief, placing a hand against your desk while you grasp her cheeks, her warm grey eyes glancing between your two hands then meet your own stare, confused. “Amazing, beautiful, fantastic, so, so much more”

“...thank you”

You sniff, then you’re pulling away, trying to keep your tears abay. You really can’t believe that your work has gone so far, that new forms of sentient are evolving from a human’s hand, you’re so overjoyed by it all but you’re also kind of realising how weird you’re being.

“Sorry, I’m becoming the creepy stereotypical scientist, let me just-” Pulling off your lab coat, you throw it over her shoulders, pulling it tighter around her for her dainty hands to grasp and hold, a smile growing on her face in gratitude. You’re really still in awe of it all but send her a giddy smile back “Henry get Kamski I’m sure he’s gonna love this”

When the man disappears, closing the office door behind him, you guide her to a chair, kneeling before her kindly.

“Tell me” She waits patiently for you to continue “What’s your name?”

When she opens her mouth, you interrupt her, grasping her hands “No, not the name you were given, the name you have chosen. What is your name?”

You’re at the beginning of history right here, you can already see the books that are yet to be written, all starting at this very moment, with you and her. This android, this amazing, piece of living metal, is the start of something great and you can’t wait to be a part of it.

“My name is….”

-----------

“(Name), I’m sorry, but there isn’t really anything I can do”

Your hands come down on the desk, expression unbelieving.

“But he attacked Ortiz in self defence, it’s not fair for him to be shipped to Cyberlife! That hellhole already has enough test subjects with other deviants, why can’t he be let go!?” Pushing yourself back up, you drag your hands down your face in exasperation “He’s a victim! He was defending himself, why can’t we let him off with a lesser offence?”

Billie sighs, shutting the file softly. “Because in the eyes of the law, he’s not a victim. He’s property and there isn’t much we can do about that. Besides, because Ortiz is dead, his ownership basically goes back to Cyberlife, so they have the authority to take him back”

Billie’s right, you know that they’re right, but it’s just so frustrating, so vexing that this is the case. An android, in the eyes of society, is nothing more than their components, why should they be given the same privilege as those who eat, shit and breathe?

Billie may be a judge, but they didn’t make the law.

You remember years ago, when something like this would have been seen as detestable, that the masses would have stood up to fight this kind of horror, but for some reason, with age came stupidity and ignorance it seemed. What the fuck had happened to you all?

You open your mouth, then close it, then open it again before huffing, taking the file from their desk and ripping your coat off the hanger.

“I’m sorry, (Name)!” Billie calls and you wave them off, shouting back a ‘Don’t worry about it’ then close their office.

The courthouse is only a few blocks away from the precinct, a good walk away, a good way to calm yourself down until you’re having to face the frustration that comes in with having to work in such a high strung place. It’s funny really, you used to say ACAB when you were younger, still believed it too, so it’s really a wonder as to why you joined, but then again sometimes to make change you have to become the very thing you hate-

“Detective (Last)-”

You scream, almost dropping your files and jumping a meter within the air. Passerbys don’t even spare you a glance, a generation raised on the weirdest websites like Vine, Tiktok, Youtube and god forbid, Tumblr, have them desensitised to whatever shit people like to play at now-a-days.

“Oh my God, Inspector Gadget” A hand falls to your chest, checking your racing heartbeat “You can’t just sneak up on a bitch like that”

Connor, the big old puppy, tilts his head in mild confusion “But I called your name twice, detective”

Oh.

“What are you doing here, Connor?”

The android joins your side and you continue your way. “Lieutenant Anderson informed me that you were heading to the courthouse, so I decided to come and brief you about a new case”

A new case, of course a new case, deviancy keeps popping up all over the country rapidly but you can’t hold your surprise about the fact that it’s been a few days and there’s already a new case.

“Deadass?”

Wait, you hadn’t mean to say that-

His eyes narrow “Deadass?”

A snort escapes you “Oh my God I can’t believe you just said that, it sounds so cursed coming from your mouth. I meant, seriously?”

You swear on your life, on everything that may be above and so much more, that the android lets out a laugh when he continues, explaining the details as you finally enter the office.

You realise, as he talks, you feel a whole lot lighter than you had earlier.

-----------

“This guy is as scummy as it gets”

Unfortunately, you can’t help but agree. Todd Williams is about as charismatic as a dumpster fire, messy hair, messy face, stained clothing and the stench of alcohol clung when you finally met him, having to hold back a wince of disgust.

You don’t usually speak ill of others, but you know his type, from the way he carries himself to the way he speaks. You’ve had to face men like him before, his whole demeanor brings back bad memories and you’re so glad that you’re not the one having to get details from him, to have to speak to him.

One thing’s for sure though, you don’t blame whatever deviant decided to book it from him.

“Why doesn’t he just...get a refund from Cyberlife?” You take a sip of your milkshake, staring at Hank, Connor and Mr Williams who looked to be ending off their conversation. “They do that for deviants, don’t they?”

Yes, if you remember, the new flashy CEO of the hell corp spoke it for all to see, that deviance is guaranteed to offer you your cash back.

How inhumane it all sounded.

Gavin scoffs, drinking his coffee “You think a guy like that cares about refunds?”

No. You know why he’s doing it. It’s all about power for fuckers like that.

Mr Williams leaves, Hank is looking through his notes, Connor is heading your way, probably to refer all the information back to you and Gavin is taking in a breath to start his bullshit again, despite your civilness that you had been sharing.

Eh, peace was never an option-

“Your metal boyfriend is heading this way”

The noise you make isn’t human, it’s a mix of a wheeze and scream, like you’ve just choked on the air your breathing and in all honesty, you have, but you’re not letting that mother fucker get away with catching you off guard, especially when he starts laughing.

“Shut up, furry”

Your actually feel the air from his head snapping towards you. “I’m not a fucking furry, quit fucking saying it!”

You pat his shoulder “It’s alright, Reed, we all know you wrote yiff fiction in your spare time-”

You dodge his fist, running away from his red, angered face and petty insults, dragging Connor away from the break room to the side, all while laughing up a storm.

Having your attention on the android again brings back Gavin’s words, his tease of ‘boyfriend’ which makes your face heat up, in what? You’re not quite sure, but it’s enough to make Connor notice your oddity.

“What were you and Detective Reed-”

“Nothing” You cackle, patting down his shoulders to distract yourself “He’s just being an arsehole again, nothing to worry yourself over”

And worry himself he didn’t, because he couldn’t of course, android and all.

Connor was quick to fill you in, an AX400 by the name of Kara had stolen (the word kidnapped comes to mind but you know that the robot detective will just ‘correct’ you on your wording) another android, Mr William’s ‘daughter’, model YK500 named Alice after assaulting him the night before. Mr Williams had been knocked out after the ordeal, as to why it had taken him so long to report it.

“Were there any signs of assault that you could see? Ones that could lead to a potential take down or unconsciousness?” Connor takes a moment before shaking his head “Yeah, I didn’t think so”

What a lying fuck.

“Let’s head to the briefing room”

Hank is there, as well as a whole group of other police officers, talking amongst themselves as you situate yourself behind the podium, screen remote in hand and smiling brightly. Your partners are at your side, Connor in his usual stoic stance while the old fart has his arms crossed, bored as always and you’re ready to debrief the many uniforms but they keep talking, even after you clear your throat.

You’re not one to get angry at being talked over, annoyed, yes, but anger leads you nowhere with a crowd, so instead, you use your most favourite tactic to date

“Pay attention to me or I am gonna start screaming people” You sing. Not a threat, but a promise. “And you all know I will screech like mother fucker”

The room is silent in the next second.

“Great! So-”

The door to the room bursts open.

“Fucking really-”

“Detective (Last)'' It's the front office assistant and by the looks of it, he is panicked, worried even, as he addresses you. You suddenly feel your stomach knot up “I’m sorry, but there’s been an emergency with your relative Carl Manfred”

You swallow, hard. “What?”

The meeting ends right then and there.

-----------

Hank hurls to a stop right outside the entrance. You’re already halfway out of the car when he shuts off the vehicle, Connor is taking off his seatbelt and you’re already racing down the soaked concrete path to the front door, rain pelting down on you.

You barely feel it though.

You startle the receptionist when you slam your hands down, eyes wide in panic, breathing coming out in fast, short pants and just looking as though you faced the masses to make it to this spot, right in front of her.

“Carl Manfred, he was brought here about an hour ago is he-”

She interrupts “Are you family?”

“Yes, please, I-”

“In what relation do you have to the patient?”

Is she really fucking serious right now? You debated leaning over and strangling your answer out of her, letting her know what kind of fucking pain you could put her through in this very moment-

But the hand that is placed against your back keeps you still. It’s warm and comforting and keeps you from mauling the fucker right out of her chair, though it doesn’t calm your anxiety, no, but at least it’s there.

You turn to see Connor, who nods towards you politely.

Huh, what a twist of events.

Hank leans over from your other side, looking just as angry as you feel, though he keeps his voice civil when he speaks “Listen, her old man’s just had a heart attack, could you drop the formal shit so she can see him?”

Her voice is sharp, just like her stupid fucking face and she snaps back “I can’t let you in unless I know your relation, unless you’d like to be escorted out by security”

Damn, she’s playing with fire and you’re ready to throw oil all fucking over her.

“I don’t fucking think so-” Pulling out your badge, you slam it against the desk, with nothing short of a growl “Police. Now, tell me where my fucking dad is or you’ll regret the next words that come out of your mouth”

You never abuse your power as a cop, it’s inhumane and back in your younger days you sneered at the disgusting police who would use their authority for their own gain, so you hate to admit but the nervous look that crosses her face when she sees your badge and Hank’s when he pulls it out for extra effect scratches an itch you begged to be scratched.

“Floor 3, the front desk will inform you what room”

“Thanks” You spit, already rushing to the elevator, the other two following.

Connor is quiet, to your surprise. Honestly, you expected him to speak out about your behaviour, your attitude, your unprofessionalism, but he says nothing, just trails after the two of you in silence, obediently, just like he was made for.

It’s comforting having him here, even if he’s just following orders.

The next receptionist is kinder than the last (she even scowls at the mention of her coworker) and points down the hallway, to where two officers stand with cups of coffee within their hands. They stiffen in surprise at your arrival, but you pay them no mind, pushing your way into the room where you finally pause, taking in the scene of your beloved father figure, laid still within the bed, pale, heart monitor beeping occasionally.

The doctor by Carl’s side looks up at you. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

Hank and Connor wait outside.

“(Name) (Last), Carl’s daughter and emergency contact” You explain, walking further into the room “Is he- Can I-”

“He’s fine” She explains with a comforting smile “And yes, you can come closer, though the medication has him knocked unconscious so he won’t be talking any time soon”

The relief almost has you collapsing, brings you back from the panic attack that threatens to kick your arse right in front of everyone and you finally breathe normally.

“Thank you, and you are?”

“Dr Collins” Collins offers her hand and you shake it weakly. “Your father is going to be okay, (Name), but he’s going to need a lot of rest. Cardiac arrest at this age can be fatal, so we were lucky that he lived so close”

You nod, tiredly slinking to Carl’s side to drop into the cushion chair, taking his hand in yours. Kissing it lovingly, you place it close to you in comfort, in reassurance.

‘He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s going to be okay-’

“What are you doing here?”

Your anger shoots right back up, as does you head when you turn to look at the doorway.

“Leo” The name is dragged out of your mouth, it’s spoken with a heavy coat of venom and dirt and for all the participants who are about to see this wild shit show, is a clear indication that you’re far from happy to see the man that stood there. “The fuck are you doing here?”

He scoffs “I’m family, what else am I here for?”

“Oh I don’t know,” You’re standing, stalking closer to him with a raged gleam in your eye “To mooch off him a little bit more?”

The tension can be cut with a knife, everyone can see it, feel it, even Connor, who looks ready to intervene at any given moment.

“No, detective” One of the officiers starts, cutting in in hopes to keep you both calm. “He was there when it all happened, he saw everything-”

“He was there?” No, her words only add fuel to the fire and you’re glaring at your brother once again “You were there? The fuck were you there for? You did this?”

“No!”

“Please calm down” Collins cuts in “I understand the anger but the other patients-”

You ignore her, glancing around the area when a thought struck you.

“Where’s Markus?”

Connor’s the first to respond, “Who’s Markus, detective (Last)?”

“Dad’s care bot” A pin drops, no one is speaking, the two cops are quiet, Leo is scowling, but he’s not looking at you and your anger is quickly making room to fear, cold and stabbing when you push again, harsher, angrier “Where the fuck is Markus?”

The second officer speaks this time, hat in his hands and you know what happens next is not going to be good.

“He was leaning over your father when we walked in detective, Mr Leo Manfred told us he attacked him” The man gulps, hesitating. He’s not nervous for what he’s done, no, he’s nervous about the dark look that seems to be slowly taking over your eyes, “I shot him”

A beat goes by. Then another, another, another, another, another-

“Why were you there in the first place?” It’s soft, curious, but the rage behind it is big, your need for an answer is keeping it back “What was the call for?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t-”

“Answer the question, officer”

His partner offers up the answer “....A break in, ma’am”

There’s silence, then you nod in understanding.

No one is quick enough to stop you from shoving Leo into the wall, hands wrapped tightly around the lapels of his jacket and holding him up so you can scream at him properly, face feeling hot from anger, eyes wild from rage, practically feral.

“You fucking did this! This is your fault, you good for nothing fuck!” You pull your hand back and punch him right in the face, he’s too in shock to react but everyone else is trying to pull you off “What?! Were you off your shit from snorting that fucking powder again, you damn druggie!? Huh!? HUH!? You high right now, too!?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, (Name), let go!” Hank yells but he’s fucking impressed by your resistance.

“He could have died because of you, you good for nothing cunt! Worthless piece of shit! Now, Markus is fucking dead because of you, the person who was actually fucking taking care of him! This is all your fault! He’s in that hospital bed, because of you! You! Did! This! All for those stupid drugs! You’re fucking pathetic!”

You’re finally tugged off by someone, their arms slipping under your own to stop you from going back at him again. The officers are acting as a wall between you and your brother, Dr Collin’s is checking his nose as blood drips down his face, Leo is still in shock and Hank is leaning over, hands propped onto his knees. That leaves...

“I’m sorry detective (Last), but I’m going to have to restrain you until you calm down”

You scream in frustration and try to fight against it, but damn, you have to admit in a moment of clarity, Connor is fucking strong.

“Lieutenant Anderson, if you could take her legs, we can escort her out of the building without much trouble” Hank huffs something under his breath probably a grunt of ‘fucking android’ but complies, glaring at you when he leans down.

“You kick me and I’ll kick your ass”

Your respect for him makes you comply, but the anger doesn’t stop you from cussing both him and the android out, naming every threat under the sun as they carry you out of the building, back to the car which you are shoved placed into.

“Let me out of this fucking car, Hank!” You bellow, glaring at the man with sharp eyes who stood outside the vehicle, leaning against it “I’ll break this fucking window, I swear to fucking God!”

“You can try, but we both know you won’t!”

Once again, you’re screaming, tugging frantically at the door’s handle that you know is locked, but are way too angered to care right now.

Connor sits by your side, a good distance away to not antagonise you, silent, waiting and watching as you slowly fall from angry to desperate, tears welling within your eyes and falling down your cheeks. It only takes a few more moments for you to stop altogether, your shoulders shaking as you sob, quietly but strong.

The android finally speaks “Detective (Last)-”

You’re on him in a moment, arms wrapped around his frame, face buried into his shoulder, wetting his suit jacket as you cry, shaking.

It’s a new one for Connor. An android built for detective work, to sniff out the bad deviants, to question suspects and actually built with a comforting feature for victims of crimes. But this is a first, a first he’s seen anyone to tears, more importantly, a first of seeing you so broken. Sure, he had seen you defeated those few days ago, but this is different, you’re not trying to hide conflicting feelings behind your bubbly smile and weird jokes, you’re just...crying. Nothing more, nothing less.

His arms are hovering at your sides, hesitant, unsure and it’s not until Hank gestures from outside the car to ‘fucking do something, you stupid machine’ that the protocol finally kicks in, his arms coming to wrap around you securely and comforting, reassuring you through your whimpers.

Connor is a robot, a machine that feels nothing.

But seeing you cry isn’t something he can just let happen.

Software instability.

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Tags: @dillxpixkles @1950schick @pinkittwice @iris-suoh @loveflowsthroughme @thatlonelyalto @starcatcher-kay (ya’ll I’m half asleep if I forgot you in the taglist I am SORRY-)

#connor rk800 #dbh connor #detroit become human connor #dbh hank #detroit become human hank #dbh gavin #detroit become human gavin #dbh carl #detroit become human carl #connor rk800 x reader #connor rk800 imagine #dbh connor x reader #dbh x reader #dbh imagine #dbh #detroit become human #dbh leo #detroit become human leo #cogito ergo sum

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