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gotnofucks · 4 years ago

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Lover’s Quarrel

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: You have the powers to resurrect if you’ve been murdered, and a jealous Steve Rogers indulges heavily in your abilities. He would not let you steal his best friend, that was for sure. So what, if your rivalry regularly caused fire and harm to public property? You just couldn’t let the other win.

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Smut, enemies to lovers, violence, killings and murders (but reader cannot die, it’s weird. She has some sorta powers that help her revive when she’s been murdered), language, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Is this crack fic? Idk. Maybe?

The sixth time Steve killed you, you decided he needed to be dealt with in a similar way. It doesn’t matter that he cannot come back from the dead like you. He just needed to go. You were tired of him offing you every time he felt threatened by your existence. But this was the last straw. He had pushed you off the Quinjet while flying home from a mission and you’d fallen into the lake and drowned. You would NOT recommend dying that way.

Bucky had dragged out your dead body and watched over you as the blessing of the necromancer worked its magic over you and brought you back to the world of the living. The first words out of your mouth as you spewed out water were, “I am going to kill your best friend and you can’t be mad at me for that.”

Bucky, far too happy to have you back – poor guy still mourned every time you died – ignored your comment and pulled you into a hug. He’d never quiet gotten used to seeing you die. You patted his back, muttering a few there-there’s until he was calm enough to press quivering kisses on your head and temple.

“You need to stop dying.” He said into your hair, holding you close.

“I would not be dying if your best friend didn’t murder me every time! He is a menace, Buck!” You cried in exasperation. The said best friend was watching you from a few yards away, and he rolled his eyes as your words reached him. He scoffed loud enough for you to hear and you sharply turned your head to glare at him.

“You!” You shouted, quickly standing up and marching over to him. “You rascal!” And then you pried out your wet shoe from your feet and threw it at his stunned face. Unfortunately, it didn’t hit his face but smacked against his chest, leaving the wet print of your soles against his far too tight t-shirt. He gaped at you open mouthed before baring his teeth in warning.

“Oh god, every time you come alive again, you’re even more awful than before!” Steve shouted, and then just because he is fucking drama queen, he threw out his hands. You sneered before turning to look at Bucky meaningfully, the most obvious ‘see what a dick he is’ look on your face.

Bucky shuffled uneasily, caught between your quarrel once again. He came behind you and gave you his jacket to wear to shield you from the cold. And just like that, your anger melted a little. Somehow, with his steel blue eyes, Bucky Barnes could sooth every wound you’d ever had. Even those given to you by Steve Rogers.

“I am so sorry. I should have seen what he was about to do. I wouldn’t have ever let you fall had I known.” He apologized and you swore your heart physically quivered. You pulled Bucky into a hug, hiding your face in his chest, savoring his arms coming around you to hold you tighter. You could have stayed in his embrace forever, but it was an annoyed groan that ripped you both apart.

“Is there any way you can stay dead a little longer?” Steve asked, breaking your moment. “I mean, I’ve tired a bullet and knife and water and poison. What can I do that you’d be gone for just a little longer?”

He was worked up, a red flush creeping on his face and neck. Pacing, he was muttering, and you wondered for the millionth time how Bucky could be friends with him. He was just so extra! You wanted to tell him to shove a stick up his ass, along with the one already there when he turned swiftly like the wind and threw a dagger at you. A metal hand caught it before it could hit you and you were pulled into the warmth of Bucky’s body quickly.

“Steve! Cut it out.” Bucky yelled, glaring at Steve. “You will not kill her again. I don’t care if she can come back alive again. You won’t hurt her.”

With that, he dropped the dagger on the ground and walked away with you. Unable to resist, you looked over you shoulder and flipped Steve off. Fucker could kill you a hundred times and yet he would not be able to do anything. As far as you were concerned, Bucky was as much your best friend as his. And if Steve Rogers couldn’t control his jealousy without trying to behead you every time he felt you were stealing Bucky from him, you would just have to make his death look like an accident.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that you can’t kill him either?” Bucky said teasingly, his eyes soft and fond. “I need you both to survive.”

You groaned, bumping your shoulder in his and snuggling into him as a cold breeze hit your wet clothes. He could read you like an open book.

“You are no fun Barnes.”

There was rubble and fires and shrieks. Natasha was yelling in Russian as she ran about with a fire extinguisher and Clint crawled out of his vents to help Bruce out who was turning a dangerous shade of green. Tony was sitting in the ruins of his kitchen, his mouth half open as he spied on the ensuing battle in the middle of it.

Sam was using his shield to push Steve away who was shouting curses that had probably not been invented yet. Bucky was holding you back by your middle, yelling in your ear to calm the fuck down but all you could think of to do was smacking Steve’s face with that chair that was currently on fire. You suppose once everyone was calm, you’d feel guilty about your part in destroying the Avengers kitchen but right now that wasn’t important.

What was important was that Steve had tried to kill you. Again. He had actually thrown a fucking grenade at you. You barely had the time to kick it away where it exploded in the kitchen and then Steve was on you, calling you a bitch in all the 9 languages he knew.

“Calm the hell down, Steve!” Sam yelled, struggling to keep Steve at bay from you. You were glad to see that Steve’s nose was busted. That will teach the bastard to ‘look down his nose’ on you now.

“She pierced my ears! The fucking bitch pierced my goddamn ears!” Steve yelled. Even you had to admit, the golden hoops looked amazing dangling from his ears. Just perfect.

“You are lucky I didn’t stick a knitting needle in your eye Rogers!” You sassily replied, “The only reason you’re still in one piece is because I promised my best friend that I wouldn’t hurt you.”

The muscles in Steve’s arms tensed and Sam groaned, barely keeping his own footing. A dark shadow seemed to have crawled over Steve’s face, turning the blues of his eyes an angry shade and had you been a weaker person, you would have trembled. This was the face of someone who had stood against armies alone and came out victorious. But for all you cared, he could kiss your ass.

“He is MY best friend. Mine. Not yours, not anyone else’s. Bucky Barnes is mine and I will kill you a thousand times until it sinks in your thick skull!” Steve growled. You scowled, a scathy remark bubbling on the tip of your tongue when you suddenly stopped. Why say when you can show? So, looking Steve directly in the eyes, you went limp in Bucky’s arms, turned around and cupped his face. And then you kissed his cheek.

Steve let out a strangled cry behind you, but you focused on Bucky who was blinking in disbelief at your audacity. And so, just for the heck of it, you kissed his other cheek. And then his forehead.

“Bucky Barnes, you are my best friend and always will be!” You said, hugging the life out of him. You heard Steve break away from Sam, heard Bucky yell out a curse and holding you protectively as his jealous pal came rushing to claim him. And all through that and the chaos that ensued later, you just smiled broadly.

Tony was giving a lecture, and he sucked. He gesticulated too much for your liking, and you really didn’t like how he kept emphasizing things by looking pointedly at you. It wasn’t even that much of a big deal, and even if it was, it was not your fault. Like every other time, the only person who could be held responsible was the blond super soldier sitting beside you, wearing the same shade of annoyance on his face as yours.

“I repeat” said Tony, his hair askew, “we do not use Friday to settle idiotic, absolutely ridiculous personal vendettas!”

“You have Friday tell you how pretty you look every day!” You countered and Tony slammed his hand on the table.

“Because I am!” He huffed. “You, on the other hand, stopped a mission in the middle to ask Friday who had a higher score! I mean, what the actual fuck? And what score?”

Steve had the decency to look at least a little sheepish. You however didn’t put up with any of that nonsense. It was his idea anyway, and you wouldn’t take the fall for him. Not when Tony looked murderous like this.

“Rogers bet me he’d take down more enemies than me. We only asked Friday to keep a count. I had literally nothing to do with it.”

Tony turned the ire of his glare at Steve who was too busy giving you a dirty look. He was just pissed you won, and that Bucky had spent the entire ride back tending to your wounds rather than Steve’s. It wasn’t your fault his jealous ass always threw a fit whenever he saw you and Bucky together.

“You said the team could use Friday as we saw fit.” Steve said, though he did look a little guilty. It wasn’t like him to lose command and control. Even when he’d been Captain America, he had never let anything rattle him. Not until you had come prancing in his life and stealing his best friend.

“I said the team could use Friday, not stop everything in the middle of a high risk mission to see who has a bigger dick.” Tony said, and then he just collapsed in his chair. Poor guy had been working too hard to carry the team forward, and in that moment, even you felt guilty. Your rivalry with Steve shouldn’t have to affect everyone else, not when they had been so welcoming and loving to you ever since you joined.

You walked over to Tony and dropped a kiss on his head, caressing his hair. “I am sorry Tones. You won’t have more trouble from me.”

Tony looked at you as if seeing an angel. He looked at you as if you were the solution to all his troubles. Despite every furniture of his you’d broken and set fire to, he was so grateful to have one sane voice between them. Cupping your hands, he looked imploringly at you and asked, “Really? You’re gonna stop fighting with Steve?”

At that, you solemnly nodded and patted his hand gently. Poor him and the poor team going through hell because you and Steve couldn’t settle your differences. It was obvious what had to be done.

“Of course I will” You said magnanimously, because of course you were the better of the two. “Steve just needs to find another best friend and there won’t be any reason to fight anymore.”

If any of them had been drinking water, they would have spit it out. Since they didn’t, they just kind of choked on their saliva and sputtered at you in absolute disbelief. Tony actually looked betrayed and Steve seemed to have licked a lemon, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“She” He said, voice thick with contempt, “needs to go away. We can launch her in outer space or somewhere from where she can never return. You know why? Because Bucky is my best friend. Since we were yay high!” And he raised his arms a foot off the ground to show just how high.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Rogers opened his mouth and any goodwill you had had went poof. So, you did the only reasonable thing any sane person would do right now and that was to flip him off and call him a pig. You knew he was inching to strangle you; you could see his fingers twitch. A part of you was anticipating it, for Bucky would never forgive him for killing you again. Just as he would have lunged at you, push Tony out of the way and did you away for good, Bucky burst into the room with the expression of a cantankerous 100 year old grandpa who had had enough with the world.

“For fucks sake! Just shut up you both!” He yelled and paced the room. His eyes were bloodshot and hair disheveled, a clear sign that your rivalry was taking a heavy toll on him. Steve opened his mouth to say something when Bucky raised a finger to shush him. “No no no! You listen to me you oblivious, utter moronic fucklets!”

Your mouth dropped open. Bucky never cursed at you. He had never called you a fucklet before.

“You two need to stop. You hear me? You need to STOP!” He raked a hand through his hair before kicking the ground in frustration. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep! I can’t fucking breathe without you both arguing over who is a better friend to me. So, here’s an idea. Instead of fucking me over in the middle of your sexual tension, why don’t you find a room and fuck each other? Because I tell you now, I cannot fucking take it!”

Silence sat pregnant in the room. You blinked at Bucky. Steve blinked at Bucky. Tony blinked at Bucky. And Bucky didn’t blink at all.

“That – uh – what?” You said, eloquent as ever. “That is so stupid.” And you laughed awkwardly.

Steve glanced at you and then stammered, “What? That – I haven’t – that has nothing to do with it. She and I – what?”

You both found each other’s eye, quickly looked away and just became silent. The tension in the air was suffocating you, and a terrible heat was settling in your stomach. Without another word, you walked out of the room, muttering about how ridiculous the whole idea was. The three men watched your exit, and a moment later, Steve left too, still very much in disbelief.

Tony and Bucky sighed, sitting across from each other and just taking in the fact that the elephant in the room had finally been address. A moment later, Tony began drumming on the desk, looking up at the ceiling.

“I couldn’t have put it any better myself.”

You felt antsy, as if staying one more moment in your room would drive you mad. You kept jerking your legs and arms, a weird restlessness in every action of yours. What the hell was Bucky saying? The sheer nerve to imply that you…you and Steve had some sort of feelings for each other. You hadn’t heard that kinda crap since you nursed your nephew who’d had diarrhea.

The only reason you and Steve fought was because you wanted Bucky. He was supposed to be your best friend, and clearly it was his inability to decide who he preferred more that had led you here. And to pretend, on top of that, that it was you who was at fault was just ridiculous. As if you’d touch Steve Rogers with a ten foot pole.

But…would you? You suppose he couldn’t be that bad to touch. He did have gorgeous eyes that got all dark and dilated when he fought with you. And his breath hitched when you got him mad and he bit his lip to stop from cursing you and he flushed a very becoming shade of red that started from his cheeks and disappeared down the neckline on his tight shirts that –

Holy fuck!

The realization rocked your world. What the hell? When you thought about it again, it seemed as if you’d just described Steve being aroused. Did you really fight him and got him mad to stimulate yourself? Oh god. Bucky was right. You wanted to fuck Steve.

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. You quickly changed into your work out gear and rushed to the gym, intent on sweating out whatever feelings you might have for Steve. After all, nothing says fuck you like imagining someone’s face on a punching bag and just going to town on it. Thankfully, when you arrived the gym was empty.

You’d been working on your stretches for only a few minutes when your worst nightmare entered the gym. He probably had the same idea as you and froze the moment your eyes met. His blue eyes narrowed at you and you stood up straight. You hated Bucky for putting the thought in your head. Now all you could think of was tackling Steve to the ground and fucking him senseless. You still wanted to beat him, but in a very different way.

As Steve entered, his eyes fixed to your form, you decided it was time to leave. After that fiasco in front of Tony, you didn’t think yourself capable of talking to Steve. Staying alone with him was something you didn’t trust yourself with. So you picked up your bag and started for the door when his voice stopped you.

“Running away? Am I to believe that there is something that finally scares you?”

Anger, red hot anger simmered under your veins when you turned to face him again. He had a mocking smirk on his face that made you grit your teeth. His eyes, dark and challenging beckoned you to him, but they didn’t hold resentment there either. Something between you had changed today. The very air around you was different, thick with tension and apprehension that had your nerves tingling.

“Scared?” You scoffed, dropping your bag on the matted floor and walking until you stood right before him. He towered over you in height, but he’d never been able to actually look down at you. “Me, scared of you? You wish Rogers.”

One corner of his lips lifted up, and he put his hands on you. One hand hooked around your waist and pulled you closer, the other trailing a finger down the side of your face to your neck, following the path down your arm until his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Oh, I so do wish” He whispered and his lips met yours. You rose up on your toes, mashing your body against his and mapping the planes of his body with your palms. The smell of his sweat and soap surrounded you, your arms coming to hold him around the shoulders as he hitched you up so you could wrap your legs around him.

Like everything in your relationship, the kiss was explosive. You didn’t melt against each other like people do in books; you collided like two warring armies intent on conquering the other. You collided like night and day, basking your surroundings in the dawn and dusk of your lust. Steve took your bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, smiling as you shamelessly moaned.

“What do you say?” He asked, pushing you against the wall, his hardness digging between the heated center of your legs.

You pulled him closer, letting your lips trail over his jaw and neck before you branded him with a quick bite. “You’ve always been so aggressive Steve, let’s see you let loose some other way. I sure do hope you fuck better than you fight though, or I’ll just be disappointed.”

Steve growled, kissing you again as he ground his cock against you, trapping you between the wall and his hard body that prevented any escape. Your hands slipped under his t-shirt, meeting the firm muscles on his abdomen that rippled under you. He pulled back just enough to allow you to remove your clothes, his own being flung sideways without any care.

Even before, you’d never thought of Steve as anything but beautiful, but now, seeing him in all his glory, you could only look him up and down in appreciation. He was trembling slightly, as if holding himself back with effort, his eyes not leaving you for a second. You both looked at each other, naked and unashamed before frantically coming together. His hands were everywhere, squeezing your ass and thighs as his lips pulled at your breast.

Your fingers rolled his nipples softly until he moaned, and then you pinched them. He jerked under your touch, kicking the back of your knees so you collapsed down, and he covered your body with his. Anger, arousal, lust and longing, all emotions built together in a storm of incoherent desire that had you both rolling over each other, fighting for dominance and power. Steve pinned you down with effort, holding your wrists in one hand over your head as he gave a smug smile to you.

“Will you finally surrender today?” He asked, positioning his cock at your entrance that was drenched. You would have loved to taste him, to have him taste you, but as of now, all you wanted was for him to slide inside you. You hungered for him, burnt for his touch. For years you’d been left wanting, and now with the prize so near, you weren’t about to wait any longer.

“The only surrender today will be yours.” You whispered sweetly before slamming your head against his. Steve jerked hard in surprise, allowing you the opportunity to free your hands and roll over him. You sat on his pelvis proudly, his throbbing member right underneath you and as he blinked at you, stunned, you rose up over his tip and slowly sunk down.

Steve groaned as your wet channel fell like velvet heat along his shaft. You had never been so full before. He stretched your limits, as he had always done, and you decided you very much preferred rendering him speechless like this under you than your usual punches and throws. His hands dug into your waist, helping you bounce on his cock and you threw your head back at the feeling.

It was a beautiful ache, one that took your breath away. As you rolled your hips and clenched down there, Steve’s voice rose in appreciation and you grinned. You finally had the golden boy at your mercy. You fucked him, changing your pace to punish him, never letting him up. For every time he killed you, you bit on his lips and neck, marking him. It was punishment and cherishing, a culmination of feelings you didn’t understand.

“Touch me.” You brokenly said, and his fingers found your nub. The slapping of skin, the sounds of debauchery and the smell of sin filled the air. You leaned over him to meet his lips, the heat in your gut bubbling until you snapped and came atop him, falling blissfully. It was one moment of weakness and the world titled, Steve having finally pushing you on your back.

“You’ve always been strong, because I’d hate to break you when the fun has only just begun.” He said and thrust into you hard and fast. He was an animal in heat, a man possessed, and you didn’t mind one bit. You met his every thrust with a raise of your hips, you clawed at his back until he bled, your lips tasting of the salt of sweat and tears and desire. He brought you impossibly closer, looking right into your eyes as he took you.

For the life of you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t get enough of his grunts and moans, of the breathy whispers of your name that slipped between curses, of the way his lashes would flutter over the dark blues that kept your eyes captive. He had you completely in that moment, mind and body; and for some reason, his gaze felt infinitely more intimate than his cock that was currently spearing you open. You keened in pleasure, whimpering as he touched your overly sensitive clit and had you coming again.

A minute later, he twitched inside you, his warmth flooding your core and you sighed. You laid entangled and sweaty, both of you spent and tired and yet completely overtaken by the urge to be closer still. To think this is what you’d both missed for all these years.

“So, what do you say, still feeling aggressive?” Steve asked and you looked at him with a grin that you couldn’t have suppressed had you wanted to. Oh yes, some battles were never meant to end, but they sure could be altered to meet new demands.

“With you? Always.” You replied, kissing him deep until he couldn’t think of anything but you. “Just remember one thing.”

“Oh yeah, what?”

“I am still a better best friend to Bucky. I did fuck you to keep him happy after all.”

Steve frowned darkly and before you could blink, he was over you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I think this time I’d fuck some manners into you.”

“I think this time you should actually put your back into it. I did all the work before.” You taunted and he dived at you.

Meanwhile, in Tony Stark’s office

“Friday, what’s the score?” He asked smugly, offering Bucky the packet of blueberries. Bucky was sitting with his feet on the desk, a small smile on his face.

“I am afraid I am not at a liberty to say Boss.” Friday replied. If the AI could blush, she would.

“Seems like they are at an impasse.” Tony suggested, and Bucky shrugged, licking his lips.

“Well, some things never change.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #crack fic #i think lol

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therenlover · 4 years ago

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In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

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Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

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

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 , @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @dazzlingseb, @avgravy , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @mossybank , @simsiddy , @xxspqcebunsxx

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Come Now, Little Prince

Prompts: Hey uh... *brushed off dust from crashing in through the roof* Could you write something about Roman or Remus having Agoraphobia and them getting trapped somewhere? My brain just wants to relate. If not that’s fine! Love your writing! - anon

Might I suggest,,,, writing trope where the severely hurt person goes to their nemesis and says “sorry, I just didn’t have anywhere else to go” but it’s with Roman and Janus - 1namelessalien1

Ahh, yes, the inevitable. Honestly a lil surprised I haven't done this sooner but here we go! Finally...

Read on Ao3

Pairings: roceit, dukeceit, creativitwins. can be platonic or romantic you choose save for creativitwins. they brothers

Warnings: roman gets stabbed and has to get stitches, agoraphobia

Word Count: 7611

Cities are full of bright lights and shadows alike. Those that live in the light, the heroes, the 'good guys.' Those that live in the shadows, their grisly work only illuminated when the sun deigns to show its face again. Sometimes the shadows are too deep. Sometimes the spotlights are too much.

The Prince, Roman Prince, is the Golden Boy of the city. The newsreels, the cameras, the public adore him. But they don't see the winces when the bulbs go off right in his face, or whispers to be better, do better, perform better from the people that pull him aside after every daring adventure.

No one knows the name Janus, but they know his work. They don't shout, they whisper. They huddle together in the dark, searching for the light so as not to get caught in his coils.

But sometimes, when spotlights are too bright and shadows too flat, a little prince will make its way into the snake's den.

He didn’t mean to.

It just—his hand slipped and they fell and they—they—

He didn’t mean to drop them. They weren’t—they weren’t supposed to fall but the knife hurt too much and he flinched and he—he—

The choppers roar around the roof, battering his head with their noise, noise, noise. The wind whips up around the concrete railing, whistling, whining, wailing as the body falls down, down, down. The searchlights glint off the knife as they pull it down with them.

And then he is alone, in a crowd, on the top of a roof, king of the clouds.

The lights glare in his face as their body disappears. Then…then…

Then fear.

———————————

One of the best things about being seen as a ‘super villain,’ and how gauche is that term, is that no one wants to ask too many questions when you rent an apartment. There are really far too many landlords that want to get to know you, want to be your friend, while knowing full well that they participate in a system where there is no ethical consumption or behavior. Really, if he ever starts renting his own property, there will be no illusions on his end.

But hey, at least these ones know not to put their noses where they’ll get bitten off if they poke too far.

Janus sighs, opening the cupboard and taking the teacup down. The kettle whistles merrily on the stove as he reaches for the tea boxes.

Black, green, white, herbal…really, there are so many options. What to have for tonight, then? It is awfully late in the evening, there’s no real justification for consuming caffeine. Then again, he’ll do what he likes.

His phone buzzes. His real phone, not the one everyone sees him carry when he’s out and about. He rolls his eyes and takes the kettle off the heat as he spots the name on the text notification.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

“What’ve you done now, Remus,” he mutters as he slides the message open, “and which one of your messes am I cleaning up now?”

The message opens to a report. Brief, as is the style of all the reports Janus demands, but the thing that gives him pause is just how brief.

Remus, as one can very well imagine, is…not exactly compliant when it comes to following the rules. And while that can be useful in its own special way, it does mean that Janus occasionally has to factor emojis out of Remus’s reports.

Well, more than occasionally.

But this time the report is two sentences. Janus pours the water into the teapot as he glances over the words.

R. Sanders: Slaughter down at 85th and Marilyn. The head of the beast is cut off.

Well, on paper, that should be a fantastic report. The rival infringing on Janus’s turf has been, ah, taken down a few notches.

That’s undermined considerably by the fact that this report lacks any of Remus’s enthusiasm.

Janus sighs as he settles on the loose-leaf blueberry mint tea, placing the cup aside to brew as he wanders toward the window. Perhaps Remus is simply tired from all this work today. It wouldn’t be the first time the man’s manic energy had been tempered by a good amount of strenuous activity. And cutting off the head of the beast was never going to be a simple job to begin with. True, it was always an issue with causing more collateral damage than Janus was personally comfortable with, but what’s done is done.

The city starts to slumber, the last of the pleasant natural light fading from the sky, giving way to the horrid stained brown of the light pollution. The skyscrapers barely flinch in the oncoming night, instead choosing to stand firm as the workers inside slave away. The smaller shops close their doors, the nighttime crowds vanishing into subway tunnels and bus stations. Janus leans against the window, the glass reflecting the elegant lines of his suit alongside the angles of the buildings.

If he were slightly less himself, he’d say it looks like he belongs here.

When the light fades further, he sighs, turning away and fetching his tea. He drops into his favorite chair next to the window and raises the cup to his mouth.

The head of the beast has been cut off. He has no appointments, no reports, no debriefings to attend. He has his cup of tea, Remus will handle anything that blows up on the networks. It is the perfect evening to be alone, secure in his apartment.

So of course, there has to be something that sends a prickle up the back of his neck.

Why is Remus’s report sitting with him like this? This should be fantastic news, he should be willing to open the bottle of champagne that’s sat in preparation for this moment. And yet, as he raises the cup to his mouth again, his teeth hit the rim and he jolts, spilling a little more than he meant to into his mouth. He swallows, thankful that there’s no one else here to see it, and sets the cup and saucer aside.

He folds his gloved hands behind his back and goes to the window again.

If there were something wrong, someone would tell him. He has eyes all over the city, ears everywhere, and those under his employ know better than to try and cross him. Remus is alive and well—clearly, given by the way the evening’s progressed so far—and wouldn’t hesitate to gleefully drag anyone he suspected into his rooms or an abandoned warehouse.

He spares a glance over his shoulder. The phone stays silent.

Fingers tap against his hand as he looks down. Not for the first time, he wonders what it must be like, down there, scurrying about, without the faintest idea of what it looks like from up here. Oh, he’s walked on the sidewalk outside his building, who hasn’t, that’s how he gets into the building in the first place, but…not like that.

The outside world is so…temperamental. So many people, so many things. There is no better place to be alone than a crowded city street, but there is no more dangerous a place to be yourself.

When he’s finished his cup of tea, and the prickle has not left the back of his neck alone, he stifles a curse and turns. Remus will listen to him. Or, more precisely, Remus will ramble and scheme and reassure him that nothing is wrong. He might get a strange look—because while everyone else can underestimate how much Remus sees at their own peril, Janus never has—but he will do it.

Janus opens the door, idly wondering if he needs to bring his coat, and abruptly stops walking.

There is someone on their knees right outside his door.

Well.

That would explain the feeling he’s had of something being wrong, how on earth his security system didn’t alert him to their presence is beyond him. He doesn’t bother to hide his sigh as he pulls his cane from the holder and tilts their chin up.

“I’m certain that you must be…”

Janus trails off as he tilts up a chin to reveal a bloodstained, agonized expression of someone who should not be here.

“I’m sorry,” Roman Prince says in the voice of a lost child, “I didn’t—I didn’t know where else to go.”

Janus’s fingers twitch on the cane as he watches the roll of Roman’s throat.

“Y-you said if I—if I—ever needed help one day to know better than to—to try and go back to th-them.”

Remus’s report is beginning to make more sense.

Janus remembers. Janus remembers this upstart pain in his ass getting in the way of many operations, from transports to exchanges to hostage negotiations. He remembers the crooked smile straight out of a movie as this little shit got in the way of everything, including his resolve to not get involved with any of the so-called heroes that ran around in this city in their spandex and naiveté.

He remembers shaking his head at this shiny new one and saying that when he realized the world was much, much grayer than he wanted to believe, Janus would be there to watch. He remembers a softer offer, after a rescue had resulted in a building—abandoned, but a building—blowing up and the poor thing looking like someone had kicked his puppy.

He remembers watching the rival’s henchmen carted off to jail as the hero of the hour was reprimanded for causing too much collateral damage by the people who supposedly adored him.

“You were right,” Roman continues in that lost, lost voice, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

It takes Roman reaching for him for Janus to remember what is going on and the cane jerks his head up higher, forcing him to stop. Janus narrows his eyes at the hero kneeling on the floor, takes in the blood on his face, his neck, his hands.

“Why are you here,” he asks, wrenching that chin just a little higher, “why did you come to me?”

“You said you would help,” comes the reply, “if I—if I didn’t want to do this anymore.”

Has the perfect prince killed someone for the first time? Is that what’s brought on this little display?

His eyes trail lower, looking for the weapon.

The light from his apartment shines on a tunic stained with blood, cut and torn, and a dark, ugly stain that is not getting any smaller.

Roman’s head lolls forward, almost nuzzling Janus’s thigh as it slips off the cane. His hair sticks to his face, too soaked with blood.

Janus’s eyes go wide.

Roman Prince is here, on his knees, bleeding out because he has nowhere else to go. He came to Janus, the person he should trust the least out of everyone in this city, and he’s here on his knees, pleading.

The hand not on the cane twitches, then slowly reaches forward to find the least bloody spot on Roman’s head. It runs gently through his hair and finds its way to his chin, lifting it up once more. Roman’s eyes, full of tears, stare back at him.

“Come inside, little prince,” Janus says, his voice far softer than he would normally allow, “you’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

There aren’t many places to go that aren’t carpeted inside Janus’s apartment, but they make it over the threshold before Roman’s state begins to truly worry him.

How did he even get here? By how much blood there is, surely he would’ve passed out by now? Roman seems oblivious to his inside questions, simply looks around for wherever Janus is leading him before he notices how much blood he’s leaving behind him.

“It’s alright,” Janus says, surprising the both of them, “I can have the floor cleaned.”

Roman just blinks at him. And oh, if it doesn’t hurt to see that innocence still in the eyes of the little lamb, even as the wolf goes to take his arm.

“The bathroom is through this way,” he says softly, “come now…”

It is an odd experience, surely, to have one’s own nemesis bloody, wounded, completely at his mercy, as he strips off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, and want to do nothing but hunt down the people that made him this way.

Roman sits like a broken doll, he realizes as he watches the man ease himself down and wait as Janus pulls on a pair of plastic gloves. He is not uncooperative when Janus pushes his limbs to the side, snipping away at the fabric, trying to figure out what precisely is going on. He does not protest when Janus finds the stab wound and presses a cloth harshly on top, nor when Janus grabs his hand and bids him to hold it there, hard. He is not unfeeling, just very, very quiet as Janus begins to douse the pads in antiseptic.

He doesn’t flinch when Janus cleans the wound as best he can—he’s no doctor, after all—before muttering that it’s going to need stitches.

“Oh,” he mumbles instead, “okay.”

“Yes, so—hold still,” he barks, forcing Roman to sit back down, “where do you think you’re going?”

Roman blinks. “You said it needs stitches.”

“Yes, which is why you shouldn’t be moving.”

“I was going to go get the stitches.”

Now it’s Janus’s turn to blink. “I will stitch you up, Roman, now stay.”

And there’s that lamb-like innocence again as Roman tilts his head. “You will?”

“I may not be a doctor,” Janus mutters, twisting to grab the first aid kit, “but I do know how to suture a wound.”

He takes a few more wipes and cleans the blood he can, pointedly ignoring Roman’s attentive look.

“You could be a doctor,” comes the mumble, “you seem…good at it.”

Janus huffs. “Less a doctor, more a medic.”

Roman’s brows furrow. “What’s the difference?”

“A doctor fixes you, a medic makes dying more comfortable.”

There’s a moment of silence. Janus half-expects the poor thing to seize up in fear, tremble before him, or—god forbid—try and fight him, but he does none of that. Because that would make sense.

Instead, Roman just closes his eyes and lets his head fall to the side against the tiled wall.

“You don’t have to make it comfortable then.”

Janus’s hands falter for a moment. His eyes flick to Roman’s bloodstained face before refocusing on the wound in front of him.

“You’re not going to die here,” he says firmly, and if he starts to work a little more quickly, that’s his business, not yours.

“Oh.”

“I imagine you wouldn’t’ve come here with the intent to die on my doorstep, that’s quite rude, you know.”

“…no.”

Now, see, as the best liar in the city, Janus knows when he hears one.

The absurdity of the situation strikes him once again, fainter this time, but still there. Roman Prince is here, bloody, wounded—fatally so if Janus hadn’t started tending to him right when he did— forced to roll over and show his belly, Janus’s teeth at his throat, and yet Janus reaches up to turn that pretty face to his.

“Tell me what happened, little prince,” he commands softly.

Roman swallows. “I didn’t mean to.”

Janus simply raises an eyebrow and starts to stitch up the wound. Roman doesn’t flinch but accepts the silent chide.

“I-it was the building security guard,” he mumbles, “they called in that someone was firing shots in the upper stories and couldn’t—couldn’t get away in time. They were—they—the call wasn’t completed.”

They died while they were on the line, Roman doesn’t say, but Janus hears it.

“Wh-when I got there, there were—they must’ve thought there was a mole in the—on the inside and they started—they were—“

They were killing their own people, Janus realizes, hiding his disgust behind another tied-off suture. He’s starting to have an awful feeling about where Roman’s been tonight.

“Something went wrong in one of the labs. They made a toxin, and it—it—“ Roman swallows— “it drove them insane.”

It made them homicidal, they killed each other.

“I...I think they were going to flee from the roof.”

As Janus ties off the last suture, he freezes.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I tried to stop them,” Roman whispers, “I was holding onto them, it was windy, they were going to fall, they ran too fast out of the door, I caught them, I—I had them, they—they were going to be safe but then they—they—“

Janus presses two fingers to the warm chest next to the wound. He can feel Roman’s heart jumping. He rubs in slow circles.

“They stabbed me,” Roman finishes, “and I—I—I—“

A small noise that sounds too much like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

Oh, this poor little prince…

Roman swallows another sob. “I’m sorry.”

Janus tilts his head. “What’re you apologizing to me for, little prince?”

“Well, I can’t imagine that this is how you imagined spending your evening.”

“No,” Janus says, folding his hands in front of him, “but I can’t imagine this is how you imagined spending yours either.”

The little prince bruises as easily as ever, only this time he doesn’t bother to hide behind his bravado.

“Off,” Janus says softly, tugging lightly at the remains of Roman’s costume, “the rest of you needs to be cleaned.”

He watches unashamed as Roman follows his instruction, eyes traveling over the scars littering the body revealed to him piece by piece. Too many scars. When he stands bare, Janus takes his hands and deliberately cleans them of the blood.

Roman doesn’t stop trembling until Janus has cleaned away every last bit.

The costume will need to be disposed of, there’s no saving it. The floor in the bathroom is littered with bits of blood and the carpet near the door will need to be cleaned quickly. Luckily the cleaner that Janus employs is well-accustomed to such a request. Instead, Janus walks back to the bedroom.

There the little prince sits, looking far too much like a lost child. Janus pauses at the door, tugging his normal gloves back on.

The little prince looks far too good wrapped in Janus’s colors.

“Why did you come to me, little prince,” he asks after a moment, “you had no way of knowing that I wouldn’t kill you.”

Roman lowers his head and the lie from the bathroom plays uncomfortably in his head. Janus tilts his head as Roman clears his throat.

“I thought—part of me thought you would.”

A harsh laugh tears out of his throat before he can stop it. “So what, I was to be your confessional? You would fall on your knees, repent, and I would put you out of your misery? Or put you down, like some misbehaved dog?”

Roman hunches his shoulders. Janus’s mirth disappears in a flash.

“…maybe.”

Roman Prince dragged himself from the roof of 85th and Marilyn, all the way across the city to Janus’s real apartment, disarmed his security, and did not once tend to the stab wound in his chest.

Roman Prince witnessed a slaughter, watched people be driven out of their minds, and dropped someone who did their very best to kill him off a roof by accident.

Roman Prince fell to his knees in front of the one man in this city who he knew would be capable of killing him without a second thought.

“…do you want me to kill you?”

There’s a softness in his voice again, one that slipped unbidden into the words to make the blow seem more like a caress.

“I would make it quick,” he murmurs, still leaning against the doorway, watching the little prince, “it wouldn’t hurt.”

Roman looks at him. The child is lost, so lost, and so, so tired. He opens his mouth.

“Don’t you want to?”

…well.

Does he? Certainly, the little prince has caused more than his fair share of mishaps, messes, and mistakes, and putting him out of the equation permanently benefits Janus in more ways than one. And it’s not like it would be difficult. No one knows Roman is here, let alone anyone who would care, and even fewer that wouldn’t expect him to never be seen alive again. Janus could kill him in half a dozen ways in the next minute that Roman couldn’t possibly fight against, a dozen more that would take scarcely any longer.

Unbidden, his mind begins to list off the possibilities. The gun in the cabinet, the knife tucked into his shirt, the poison stored in the bathroom, even snapping the little prince’s neck.

But he takes one more look at the little prince and all of them vanish in an instant.

“Why did you come here?” he murmurs again.

Roman lets out a long breath. His hand on the borrowed shirt tightens and loosens, tightens and loosens.

“You’re the only one I trust,” he tells him quietly, and it’s the saddest thing he could’ve possibly said.

Janus crosses the room and cups the back of the little prince’s neck. Roman just bows his head, the little lamb waiting for another hand to come up and twist. Janus bites back the snarl of rage at how resigned Roman is to dying tonight and brushes his thumb along the curve of his cheek.

Stroke by stroke, he coaxes the tears from the little prince’s eyes and wipes them away.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs, leaning his weight against the edge of the bed, “there’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I could’ve held on.”

“You’d just been stabbed, flinching is a perfectly understandable reaction.”

“But I’ve been stabbed before.”

“It’s not like you build up an immunity to knives going into you.”

“But I—“ Roman cuts himself off, curling his fist tightly in his lap.

“What is it, little prince?”

He just shakes his head firmly, lips pressed tightly together, red blooming on his cheeks.

Well, at least there’s blood flowing properly again. “We’re well past the point of embarrassment, little prince,” Janus remarks gently, “and if you’re worried about sharing weaknesses with me now…”

“I got scared,” Roman blurts, sounding every bit the reprimanded child. Janus pets his hair absentmindedly, encouraging him to speak again. When he won’t, Janus hums quietly.

“You were stabbed,” he reminds again, “that’s understandable.”

“Not of being stabbed.”

Janus frowns. “What then, little prince?”

“I…”

“I won’t harm you, little prince,” Janus murmurs when he hesitates.

“…I got scared of being outside.”

Janus’s hand pauses in Roman’s hair before gently lifting his chin. “What do you mean, little prince, that you were scared of being outside?”

“There—there was nowhere to go, I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t escape, there were too many people, the choppers were so—so loud and I—I didn’t know what to do—“

Fucking hell, Janus realizes as he shushes the little prince tenderly, he’s agoraphobic.

Flashes of their fights and altercations start to make more sense now. Why Roman prefers fighting in dark, cramped warehouses, why losing the hero on public transportation was so easy, why he almost never confronted Janus in public in broad daylight even though he clearly knows where Janus lives.

The weight of the expectations on Roman…how difficult his chosen occupation must be…how little support he gets for something that makes it infinitely harder for him…

Janus doesn’t realize he’s cradling Roman’s head until he strokes his thumb down his cheek and feels the soft brush of hair against his forearm. He looks down and sees Roman’s eyes all but flutter shut, lulled by the gentle touch against his face.

Trapped under the spotlights of the world, laid bare, stripped by their merciless eyes, unable to look away, escape from what they would only see as a colossal failure…

No wonder Roman sought out a denizen of the shadows where he could be sure no one would look for him.

What should, by all rights, feel like a cage to Roman might just become a den.

The snake tightens its coils protectively around the little prince and leans down to whisper in Roman’s ear.

“You’re safe, now,” he soothes, “there is no one else here but me, and I will look after you. There are no expectations here, you cannot do something wrong. I’m here to help you.”

The snake hisses in contentment as the little prince slumps into the coils, letting it pick him up and deposit him gently in the mass of the den, leaving only for a brief moment before returning to his side.

“Shh, shh,” he soothes as Roman blinks about in confusion, “you need to rest, I’ll be right here.”

“Why—what—“ Roman’s head hits the pillow and Janus almost laughs at how quickly his eyes close— “why’re you…helping?”

“You came to me for help, little prince.”

“But you…care?”

And oh, if that doesn’t make the snake’s cold black heart beat warmly in its chest.

“You may be surprised, little prince,” it hisses, drawing the little prince closer and closer, “but you’re not that difficult to care for.”

No, Janus decides, resigning himself to a night of little sleep as he watches Roman’s breathing begin to even out, stroking a hand through his hair, the little prince isn’t so hard to care for after all.

The snake has never been one to spare those that wander carelessly into its den, but this little prince did not do it carelessly. And it is surprisingly easy for Janus to soothe the remaining prickle on the back of his neck by scratching his fingers lightly along the back of Roman’s, to gentle the furrow in Roman’s sleep with a murmured reassurance into the little prince’s ear. The night passes slowly as the little prince dozes under the snake’s coils.

Only later, when the sun has begun to rise, does he realize he’s left his phone on the counter. He sighs, extricating himself gingerly from the sleeping Roman and going back to the kitchen.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

He glances toward the bedroom and opens the text.

R. Sanders: if you don’t get your security system back online yourself in the next 30 seconds I’m coming over

Well, considering this message is from two minutes ago, Janus simply sighs and opens the door.

“That,” Remus snarls as he stalks inside, “is not the point.”

“I was about to reboot the system, Remus, do calm yourself.”

“I’m not the one who spent the entire fucking night in an unsecured location!”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “By all means, Remus, do keep shouting about my security system at the top of your lungs while the door is still open.”

Remus mutters angrily to himself but has the decency—or perhaps, the self-preservation—to quiet down while Janus shuts the door and turns the security system back on.

“Now then,” he says easily, setting the kettle to boil again—blueberry mint really was the correct choice to make last night— “what would you like to drink?”

Remus regards his tea boxes like he regards the new bottles of bleach.

“You still don’t keep coffee in your house, do you?” At Janus’s look, he sighs. “Just hot water.”

“Splendid.”

Janus takes his time setting up his teapot. Looseleaf black tea, a new teacup, the honey laid out just so, all while Remus’s tapping gets more and more impatient. But Remus is a good dog, he’ll wait until he’d given leave to speak again.

“I imagine you must have a reason for infringing upon my privacy this morning,” Janus says as he stirs the honey into the tea, “if not just to turn my system back on so that a corpse could not be tampered with.”

“I didn’t know if you were fucking dead, Jan,” Remus snarls, and oh, the poor thing was worried. How touching.

“I’m fine, Remus,” Janus says, softening his voice just the barest amount, “and it certainly speaks to the faith you have in me.”

“Yeah, yeah, faith in your something.”

“Come now, dear, let’s not be crass.”

“You like me crass.”

Janus hides a smile behind the rim of his cup. There’s the Remus that was missing from the report. Though as he looks at the loyal minion sitting across from him, he sees that something is still bothering him.

“Well, if that’s all then?”

Remus takes the bait. “Wasn’t us.”

“Pardon?”

“The beast,” Remus mutters, still glancing around the apartment, “wasn’t us.”

Then he spots the blood.

In Remus’s defense, Janus did open the door right as he arrived and he was definitely given time to look around before Janus swept him into a conversation. Still, the fact that it took Remus this long to spot the blood is…well.

“Shit—“ Remus springs to his feet— “are you hurt? How many?”

“Keep your voice down,” Janus murmurs, “I’m not hurt.”

“Then explain to me why there’s blood everywhere—“

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why the fuck should I keep my voice down? Someone was here, there’s fucking blood—“

Both of them freeze as a rustle of covers comes from the other room. Remus’s eyes widen and his hand goes to the gun at his side. In two quick steps, he’s almost to the bedroom.

Janus catches him by the arm.

“Don’t.”

The steel in his tone finally gets Remus to settle, the man glancing at the door once before allowing himself to be held in place.

“What the hell is going on here,” he hisses, finally keeping his voice down, “what aren’t you telling me?”

“Stay out of that room,” Janus orders, even though it’s a redundancy at this point, “and tell me what else you know.”

Remus opens his mouth to protest but a look quells him. He glances at the door one more time before sighing.

“By the time we got there, everything was over. There were network choppers crawling over every inch of that place, swarming with civvies. We had to fence to get in. Janus, they—“

If Remus has to take a breath, what the hell happened?

“God, Janus, it’s like someone gave a neurotic thirteen-year-old a hallucinogenic and a sledgehammer and told ‘em the building was a giant whack-a-mole.” Remus shakes his head. “Heads bashed in, eyes gouged out, like they—they—“

“Like they did it to each other,” Janus finishes.

Remus nods, his face pale. He looks up at Janus and it’s the second time in the last twelve hours he’s been caught off guard by someone’s expression.

“Jan, it’s bad,” he says quietly, “if they—we’re lucky it only got into that building.”

“And you’re certain it’s contained?”

“Someone tripped the quarantine field. The building locked down. Only way out was the roof.” Remus shakes his head. “The head of the beast was splayed out on the street, spine snapped in half, bloody knife. Like he was pinned up like a butterfly.”

He quirks his brow.

“Gotta admire the craftsmanship.”

Janus nods. Remus notices his silence and steps a little closer.

“So who the fuck is in that room?”

As if on cue, there’s another muffled hiss.

“Don’t,” Janus says when Remus’s hand goes to his gun again, “you’ll scare him.”

Now Remus looks at him like he'd grown another head. “Who the fuck is in that room?”

Janus bites back a curse when there are more noises.

“The person who cut the head off.”

“If you think that’s gonna stop me from getting in there—“

“Remus.”

Remus subsides, looking at him carefully. Janus sighs. Remus knows better than to directly disobey an order, and if Janus pushes, Remus will leave.

And yes, part of the snake wants to wrap around its den and keep its precious charge safe from anything else.

A larger part of Janus knows that keeping this information completely under wraps will become a liability quickly.

“Watch the door,” Janus says, letting Remus go.

Remus hasn’t worked for him for this long without picking up some of his observational skills, so he goes without complaint. Janus opens the door to the bedroom and has to stop the fond smile on his face as he sees the little prince trying to feign sleep. As if it’s going to work.

He crosses the room and leans down.

“You can stop pretending now, little prince.”

Roman’s eyes open and the snake hisses gently, noticing the pressure the little prince’s position is putting on his stitches.

“By all means, ruin the work it took to suture you up,” he remarks dryly, chuckling as Roman quickly—and carefully—rolls onto his back, “better.”

“D-do—I can go now,” Roman mumbles, “if—if you—if you want. I can leave. You don’t have to see me again, I’ll—I’ll go.”

Janus quirks an eyebrow. “And let you leave without breakfast? How rude of me.”

Roman’s eyes widen. “N-no, I didn’t mean—you don’t—I—“

“Hush, little prince,” Janus murmurs, petting Roman’s hair again, “none of that now.”

Roman’s eyes keep darting around the room, from the closed door to Janus’s hands to his face and away again. Janus frowns.

“Oh, little prince, have you always been so afraid of me?”

“Yes.”

The honesty takes Janus by surprise. Roman Prince has never been afraid of him, at least not like this, like some creature constantly bracing for a blow. He’s responded brilliantly to whatever jibes Janus throws at him during one of their altercations, always ready with a quip on his tongue or a pretty blush to a flirtation. He’s not—he’s never been this.

Perhaps the little prince is a better actor than I gave him credit for.

There are not many people in this city capable of doing that.

Then there’s the sudden realization that the reassurances from the night will no longer work. Roman was safe because he was alone with Janus, there was nothing he could do wrong that would hurt him, there was an easy way to escape if need be. But now Remus is here, there’s another variable to worry about.

And Roman is no match for the both of them.

“Let me have a look, little prince,” he says instead, leaning down to gently tug the shirt up and out of the way. Despite the hero’s movement, there’s no blood, no popped stitches. The wound will still be tender for a while yet, but there’s nothing to worry about. Not at the moment. He says as much, ending with a soft: “sit up, let’s get you something to eat.”

Roman glances at the door again.

“Remus won’t hurt you,” Janus reassures, “not while I’m here.”

Roman’s head whips around so quickly he frets that the little prince will snap his own neck.

“R-Remus?”

Janus blinks. “Yes, Remus, he’s who’s here, he works for me.”

“Remus Sanders?”

He quirks a brow. “And here I thought you didn’t bother to learn my staff.”

“N-no, Remus Sanders, he’s—he’s not dead?”

Not dead?

Judging by the sudden silence in the other room, Janus has about three seconds to brace for it before Remus slams the door open.

Remus’s eyes are giant, his face almost drained of color. Three quick steps and he’s got a fist in Roman’s shirt, wrenching him away from Janus and slamming him up against a wall.

“Remus,” Janus barks, “put him down.”

It says something about Remus’s state of mind that he doesn’t even register Janus’s command. Instead, the man has a knife pressed to Roman’s throat, every muscle in his body bunched up like a clenched fist.

Roman hasn’t flinched. He’s just staring at Remus, his hands sliding and scrabbling uselessly at Remus’s shoulders.

“Y-you’re alive,” he keeps mumbling, “you’re not dead, you’re alive, you’re safe, you’re—you’re—“

Remus abruptly lets Roman go, shoves him further against the wall and yanks the shirt out of the way to see the stitches. The knife goes back in its holster as Roman keeps babbling about how Remus is alive.

“Was it him,” Remus asks in a soft, dangerous voice, cutting through Roman’s babble, “did that bastard stab you?”

Roman jerks his head up and down.

“…well, at least you finally learned how to stand up to your bullies.”

Ah.

Janus must be getting rusty.

“As much as I hate to interrupt the family reunion,” he says, startling the brothers, “I believe there is still business to attend to.”

Remus has the decency to look a little ashamed at directly disobeying several orders now, but the little prince is still staring at Remus like his life depends on it. Janus shakes his head, crossing the room to gently take his chin again.

“You need to eat, little prince,” he murmurs, “come now.”

He doesn’t have to ask Remus to help the little prince to the kitchen. By the time he’s followed them out—and made sure his tea isn’t ruined—Remus has Roman sitting on one of the bar stools, stood next to him, every bit the guard dog as Roman clutches Remus’s tactical vest. As Janus starts to get something together for Roman to eat, Remus doesn’t move once. Instead, he lets Roman cling onto him, mumble to himself, and absentmindedly rub his cheek against Remus’s chest.

Janus sets a plate of food in front of Roman and picks up his tea again, taking a sip and staring at them over the rim of the cup.

This could be a problem.

Remus’s loyalty is not easily won, nor is it easily lost. The man’s been dragged behind a truck by his fingernails and not squealed once. And yet as Remus lifts his head—finally—and looks at Janus, it’s the first time he’s seen that loyalty waver.

Janus stares back. Remus knows better than to try and cross him. Remus himself has been the blunt instrument that disposes of those who did. Remus knows the extent of Janus’s influence better than anyone else, aside from Janus himself.

And still, that loyalty wavers.

The little prince, oblivious to the staring match happening over his head, mumbles a small thanks as he starts to eat. His hands are still shaking. Remus steps closer, pressing Roman further into the counter and the little prince lets him. The message is clear.

This is the one thing of Remus’s that he won’t let Janus take.

Which would be a problem—or wouldn’t be, depending on how quickly Remus cooperates—if Janus weren’t currently dividing his attention between Remus and how his hands are itching to wipe the last speck of blood from the little prince’s hairline.

It takes barely a glance for Remus to understand that Janus would never.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, coming around to the other side of the counter once Roman finishes, “I need to have a talk with Remus, do you think you can sleep a little more?”

“I can try.”

“Let’s have you try.” Janus glances at Remus.

“C’mon, Ro-Bro,” Remus says quietly, one arm around Roman’s waist, “back to bed.”

“Re?”

“I gotcha, Roro, I’m right here.”

How adorable.

Remus closes the bedroom door and there’s a long pause.

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Janus takes another sip of his tea. “Does anyone else know what happened?”

“The networks have a hold of the main story, they won’t know what happened inside until the lockdown expires, but Jan—if he was there—“

“The choppers saw him.”

“Shit.”

“They saw him drop the beast’s head but him fleeing the scene won’t look good.”

“I’ve got the team scrambling the data, the location of the beast’s head won’t reach the airwaves.”

“Good.”

Another pause.

“…why’d he come here?”

Janus settles the cup back in its saucer. “…he said I was the only one he could trust.”

Remus snarls. “As if we needed more proof that they treat their people like shit.”

“Believe me, I’ve got quite the list of people I’d like to question.”

Remus bares his teeth. “Don’t do it without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” He watches Remus stare at the door. “So…you have a brother?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that from the extensive background check you did.”

Janus accepts it, setting the teacup aside. “The famous Roman Prince…oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Remus’s head flicks sharply around to stare at him. But Janus says it with none of his usual flare, dragging his gloved fingertips along the counter.

“Has he always been so…” He fumbles for the right word.

There isn’t one.

Thankfully, Remus understands what he’s trying to get at.

“It’s hard not to,” he mumbles, “even when I hated him—and I hated him, he was always…”

Remus trails off into silence too.

“There was never a moment where I didn’t know that he was still my fucking brother.”

This is dangerous.

The closest thing Janus has to a weakness, up until this point, has been Remus. And Remus is a loyal man, but even he knows Janus will watch him die and feel only the slightest bit of remorse that a useful tool will no longer be in use.

But not anymore.

“I think he wanted me to kill him,” Janus murmurs, noting the way that Remus jerks in surprise.

“Do you think that’s why he came?”

“He told me that I was right,” he says, “that I was—that he remembered I’d told him if he ever realized he couldn’t do it anymore, if he ever needed help, that he should know better than to go back to the people that pretend to care about him.”

“You basically told him you’d be his suicide gun?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Remus,” Janus says lowly, looking up.

Remus regards him. “Would you have?”

“Killed him?”

“Yes.”

Could he have killed Roman Prince? Yes, easily.

Can he kill the little prince in the bedroom?

“My God,” Remus breathes, “you can’t do it, can you?”

Janus shakes his head. Like it or not, the snake can’t kill the little prince.

“So what now?”

Janus stands up straight. “The city isn’t just going to let Roman Prince disappear, not like that. They’re going to look for him. He’s going to have to make another public appearance.”

“And we have to clean up the rest of the mess.”

“That we’re used to,” Janus sighs, “that I’m not worried about.”

“You’re worried about Roman’s people trying to look for him.” Janus nods. “We’ve got feelers out, we can keep tabs on that.”

“Good.”

Remus spares another glance at the door. “Are you gonna keep him here until then?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a low whistle.

“Go. Get to work.”

“Aye aye, boss.” Remus fixes him with one last look before he disappears out the door.

Janus walks to the bedroom. This time the fond smile crawls across his face unhindered.

“You don’t have to pretend, little prince,” he says as he crosses the room, “if you can’t sleep, you can’t sleep.”

Roman blinks up at him as Janus sits on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” He tilts his head to the side. “I never offered you painkillers, are you alright?”

Roman nods.

“Roman,” he asks softly, “why did you come here?”

There’s a pause.

“You said that you remembered me telling you that you could,” he continues, “and that you…trusted me, and yet you seemed surprised that I was—I am willing to help.”

“Still am.”

Remus’s words play in his head again. “You said you remembered what I said—and you be honest with me now,” he says, giving Roman a look, “did you want me to kill you?”

Roman swallows. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

And oh, Janus has waited so long to hear those words from that pretty mouth but not like this.

He pulls a tissue from the side table and tilts Roman’s head just so to get that last speck of blood, pausing at the way Roman shudders under his touch.

“When was the last time someone touched you,” he asks gently, “before this?”

Roman just shakes his head.

“What is the point,” the snake hisses, “of people pretending to care about you when they don’t give you what you obviously need?”

“You were,” the little prince mumbles, still a beat behind, “I think you were the last person to…to touch me.”

“Before…?”

“Yeah. When we…when you…”

When he had the little prince tied up in the factory downtown, another attempt to persuade him to back off. When he cupped the little prince’s chin in his hand and chuckled as a pretty blush spread across those cheeks. When he let gloved fingers run through his hair and smirked at how easily the little prince lost track of the conversation.

Now, though, Janus cradles the little prince’s face in his hands and lowers himself onto the bed.

“You can have it,” he whispers, running his fingers through the little prince’s hair, “if touch is what you need, you can have it.”

Roman’s eyes flutter, lost on the sensation of Janus’s touch, all but floating on the bed. He starts to curl unconsciously towards him, pliant and still. Janus lets him, moving to wrap his arms around the little prince as he tucks himself under Janus’s chin.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks gently, “that you were hurting so badly?”

He feels the roll of Roman’s throat. “Didn’t want you to think I was any weaker.”

Janus bites back a curse. “Well, I’m afraid you’re about to witness firsthand how weak I am.”

Before Roman can ask what he means, Janus cups the back of his neck and gently, gently kisses his forehead.

“If no one else will do what needs to be done,” he murmurs into Roman’s hair, “then I will.”

If no one else will take care of the little prince that sacrifices so much to protect this city, then the snake is happy to oblige.

General:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo @cerulean-watermelon @puffed-up-bees

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #agoraphobia #tw agoraphobia #fic

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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 308: VIBE: CHECKED

Previously on BnHA: Lots and lots of Shindou idk what else to tell you.

Today on BnHA: Tired Nomad Deku rescues Shindou from Muscular, and us from Shindou. Muscular is all “OH BOY I SURE CAN’T WAIT TO FIGHT DEKU AGAIN AFTER HE TOTALLY KICKED MY ASS THE LAST TIME!! I’M SURE THIS TIME WILL GO DIFFERENTLY SEEING AS HE’S HAD ALMOST AN ENTIRE YEAR’S WORTH OF ADDITIONAL TRAINING, AND ALSO HAS SIX FOURQUIRKS NOW, IN ADDITION TO THE CONFIDENCE THAT COMES WITH HAVING EIGHT OTHER PEOPLE’S SOULS CHILLING OUT INSIDE HIM OFFERING MORAL SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT.” Deku is all, “[kicks Muscular’s ass effortlessly].” Muscular is all, “[gets his ass totally kicked].” I for one am very satisfied with this, and with respect to all, I would like to hereby declare this post a discourse-free zone. I’m just happy to see my son out here making good use of his FOURQUIRKS, and more importantly beating Muscular in less than seventeen pages so we can all go on with our lives lol.

damn Deku since when were you allowed to look this cool

from this perspective and with the smoke, cape, backpack, and mask more or less obscuring his actual profile, he looks less like a sixteen-year-old boy and more like a grownass man

OH SNAP

we got a glimpse of this in the cleaned-up scan of 307, but seeing both of his eyes looking so distinctively All Might-esque here is... whoa. I mean we know that his face still looks pretty normal underneath the mask and he doesn’t actually have the black sclera, but still, this is an awesome look. mini-Might

lol Muscular

you and me both. I mean no offense, but yeah

so Deku is just standing there silently

typical Deku. tight-lipped and expressionless. mum’s the word. quiet as a mouse. silent as a grave

okay no but seriously this is so weird and creepy though you guys. Deku please say something or else I’m just gonna mindlessly say whatever stupid things come into my head in an effort to make things less awkward

so Muscular is all “I should probably make a cool speech about revenge but Horikoshi couldn’t think of anything good so I’m just going to stand here clenching my fist real slowly”

“I’m not here to go on a monologue” he says, as he monologues about not monologuing

okay you guys I confess I have only read through/watched the Deku VS Muscular fight once because the arm-breaking is just way too uncomfortable for me to revisit. and so as a result, I have completely forgotten Whatever The Deal Is with Muscular’s eye lmao so let me go look it up real quick

okay so it’s a prosthetic, obviously, and he changes it out according to his mood. that part does sound familiar. I just can’t remember which eye is supposed to indicate which mood. don’t tell me I actually have to go back and reread this shit

lol I’m skimming through chapter 75 now and remembering/realizing that I hardly paid any attention to this the first time around because as soon as I found out the villains were after Kacchan my brain was like “TIME TO FOCUS ON THIS AND ONLY THIS NOW AND FOREVER” and yeah. ah memories

anyway so he started out with the flower-looking eye, and then later on he was all

which begs the question, how on earth could I have ever forgotten the most ridiculous panel I’ve ever read lmao

anyway, but so after all of that, I'm only just now realizing that this isn't one of his previous eye prosthetics in the current chapter; this is an ACTUAL FUCKING ROCK that he's just randomly shoved into his eye socket fkdsjlk

so basically (1) I did all of that painstaking research for nothing, five whole minutes of my life wasted THANKS A LOT, and (2) what, and I have never meant this more emphatically, THE FUCK

anyway so now he's leaping at the building that Deku is standing on top of. but he’s not aiming anywhere near Deku though, wtf

(ETA: HAHA YOU BROKE ALL YOUR MUSCLES YOU LOSER.)

...huh

lmao okay then. I hope those annoying citizens in the building next door are watching this go down and rethinking their life choices

dlkdkljk

just keep standing there pressed right up against the window, why don’t you. “WHAT’S GOING ON THIS SUPER CLOSE COLLAPSING BUILDING IS BLOCKING OUR VIEW.” well, folks, we’ve long since known there’s a critical shortage of hero and villain brain cells, but what we’re learning now is that civilian brain cells are also in short supply

OH THANK GOD DEKU IS FINALLY TALKING THAT WAS ACTUALLY UNSETTLING AS FUCK

SO HE’S STILL OUR GOOD, POLITE, WORRIED, CONSIDERATE DEKU UNDERNEATH THAT COOL AND MYSTERIOUS VENEER. for real, thank fuck, because I swear to god if he suddenly started acting like the Dekus in all of the vigilante AUs my interest in this series would have dropped something like 50% lol. just because he dropped out of school and ran away from home and is currently dressed like the physical manifestation of a Linkin Park playlist doesn’t mean he’s not still the WORLD’S BIGGEST DORK okay

I MEAN, THIS RIGHT HERE. THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. HE’S APOLOGIZING FOR THE DELAY

PLEASE FIND THE ATTACHED SHINDOU YOU REQUESTED. BEST REGARDS!!!

OH MY GOD WHY IS HE SUCH A BADASS

something about making bold, confident statements while obscured in smoke?? idk but damn it fucking works

ffjkkl

more importantly, should you tell him you actually need your copy of Shindou in excel format and not pdf?? on the one hand you don’t want to sound ungrateful, but on the other hand what are you even supposed to do with this

this chapter so far consists of like 50% smoke, but on the other hand Deku VS Kacchan 2 had a lot of cinematic smoke too so who am I to complain

OMG IS IT HIS ARMS

IDK DID YOU?! TELL ME YOUR SECRETS. PLEASE, AT SOME POINT THIS FIGHT HAS GOT TO ACTUALLY ADVANCE THE PLOT

OHHHHHHH

IT’S EN’S QUIRK!! OH MY GOD OKAY THAT’S ACTUALLY AWESOME

I CAN HEAR THE SOUND OF DISCOURSE RUMBLING IN THE BACKGROUND BUT I DON’T CARE LOL. WON’T CATCH ME EVER SAYING NO TO ANOTHER SIXQUIRK. GO AHEAD, BRING THEM ON, I WANT TO SEE THEM ALL but take it easy though Deku. don’t want to give yourself lung cancer or anything

also it’s good to see that in a very real sense he’s not fighting alone. the Vestiges really did mean it when they said they could appear more easily now. this is on a whole other level

so is this whole next page still En talking, or someone else? because whoever it is sure is chatty

okay, several things

pretty sure it is En, because he keeps saying “I suppose.” for someone who never said two words until one page ago, this guy sure never shuts up. we can’t all follow Muscular’s lead I suppose. oh my god now I’m doing it too

really like the suggestion of Deku using the SIXQUIRKS like tools in an arsenal, because that’s what he’s good at! it’s almost like he’s been training for this his entire life. “you value quirks too much” LOOK HE JUST THINKS THEY’RE COOL OKAY IS THAT A CRIME

where the fuck did all this rope come from

not gonna ask what the fuck that thing is sticking out from the back of his utility belt. Horikoshi will surely explain this

is that a fucking jetpack. I’m sorry Deku were six fucking quirks not enough for you. you can fucking float??? but JUST TO BE SAFE, LET’S STRAP A PAIR OF ROCKETS TO OUR SHOULDERS IDK

-- or wait, is this all supposed to be like a visual representation of En’s metaphor?? OH MY GOD AM I JUST STUPID LOL, DON’T ANSWER THAT. NEVER MIND. NEW LIST!!

rope = blackwhip

jetpack = float

radio = danger sense

and so I’m guessing that this ridiculously phallic thing is supposed to be a flare or something?? and that = the new quirk, smokescreen. well that was a fucking ride lmao we now return you to our regularly scheduled chapter

so now Deku is floating to his heart’s content and thinking that he’ll just sneak up on Muscular and vibe check his ass or whatever

WOOOOOOOO DANGER SENSE YESSSS I LOVE THIS FOR HIM

okay guys, I'm gonna press pause here for a sec to make a serious note, because I am loving the shit out of this, but tbh I'm having trouble enjoying it as much as I want to because I keep getting anxious thinking about the discourse. I know that a lot of the fandom has very strong opinions on Deku's character development one way or the other, and I want to respect that. but I also really have no spoons to debate this topic at all beyond what I’ve already weighed in on. so if it’s all the same to everyone, I plan on staying out of this discussion, at least this week

anyway! that said, YEAH BOI GET HIS ASS

VIBE: CHECKED. CURB: STOMPED. HOTEL: TRIVAGO

-- OF COURSE HE’S STILL FUCKING FINE LOL HE CRASHES INTO BUILDINGS FOR FUN IDK WHAT I WAS EXPECTING

dammit Muscular. how many fucking quirks does it take to beat you?! the annoying thing is that even with all of his cool new powers, Deku is still something of a mismatch against him. anyway r.i.p. to all these poor buildings

OOOOOHHHHH

you guys have no idea how intrigued I am at the prospect of watching Deku try to play both good cop and bad cop here lmao

anyway so Muscular says he doesn’t know, go figure

“I’m not here to make small talk or anything” he says as he small talks about not small talking

OH MY GOD DEKU

are you really gonna talk no jutsu all of these villains from now on?? that last battle really did have a profound impact on you, huh! interesting

you guys he’s really doing it omg

Deku this guy tried to murder a five-year-old literally just for fun. I mean more power to you, but holy shit you’re really gonna try to defeat Muscular with anger management therapy huh

I MEAN

WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THAT RESPONSE COMING dlkjslkjk

FUCK’S SAKE DEKU, I KNOW YOU MEAN WELL BUT THEY CAN’T ALL HAVE TRAGIC PASTS KIDDO

but. I have to admit, I do still like that he tried. probably knew just as well as we did what the end result was going to be, but still. he made the effort in good faith and I respect that

uh oh

why do I get the feeling Muscular just got a whole lot deader

oh my god oh my god he’s doing the “powering up” stance ffff don’t fucking tell me you can still use your fucking arms here, Deku

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY WHAT’S THIS??

okay so basically he’s saying that whatever it was he sensed in Tomura, he doesn’t sense from Muscular. which, yeah, that sounds exactly right. good judge of character here lol

AHHHHAHAHA YESS

WHOOPS, GET FUCKED I GUESS

WOOOOHOOOOOOOO

lmao so apparently this is the belated result of Shindou’s attack from chapter 307?? I’ll be damned. good for you Shindou!! I always liked you buddy. please just take my word on that and don’t fact check that statement

okay lol the one tiny bit of discourse I will allow is that it’s bullshit that he just did that with his right arm. like, I’ll fully acknowledge that. that makes no fucking sense, and I demand an explanation from the Great Plot Hole Filler himself. he’s never let us down before when it comes to continuity so I’m trusting him not to suddenly start now

that said, we love to see a rematch against a boring guy settled quickly and decisively within the span of a single chapter. THANK YOU

I like that Deku implies that his power is being a smart nerd who battles villains using the power of ANALYTICS. he basically didn’t do anything except restrain Muscular and wait for Shindou’s attack to take effect while halfheartedly checking to see if he regretted any of that murder and stuff

(ETA: and almost forgot to mention, he made excellent use of all four of his active SIXQUIRKS. it’s like the chapter title said; this is basically him fighting all-out, and it’s a sight to see.)

also, as cool as the mask was, this just feels right. like, we had our fun, now let us see his face, yes good

anyway, I think this was a good start towards establishing What’s Up With Deku Right Now! so if it’s all the same to Horikoshi, I would next like to take some time to explore Why’s Up With Deku. that, and What’s Up With Everyone Else, Especially Kacchan. por favor

#bnha 308 #midoriya izuku #muscular (bnha)#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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in-ky · 4 years ago

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An Old Scent [2] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: Eventual smut, A/B/O dynamics, cheating, angst, age gap, Negan, a bit of gore if you squint

A/N: ok so everything is written i'm just gonna stagger posting a little bit :') 2.7k words

The first thing I woke up to in the morning was a dull ache in my lower abdomen. Great. My heat was starting up again. Growing up, Bee always asked why I never went on suppressants. I always got a bad vibe from them. Then, a few years ago, a large brand got recalled because it was shown to cause cancer in a lot of different patients. Now suppressants were harder to come by, more regulated, and needed a doctor's prescription. A lot of omegas took the hit hard, but out of it came an influx of at-home ways to take care of your heats by yourself. Super helpful for a single girl like me. When my heats started to get really bad around my junior year of high school, Bee took me out on a shopping spree and got me a bunch of toys to try and satisfy myself. It worked for a while, but they got worse as the years passed. By my age, a lot of omegas were already claimed and had an alpha to help them through their heats. I was still relying on the toys Bee had bought me. The box was tucked neatly under my bed, waiting for me. I rolled over with a small groan and sighed. The heat wouldn't be in full swing for another few days or so, so I could still go to the courthouse with my dad. Speaking of, I heard Rick shuffling down the hall and slid out of bed, gathering my bathroom stuff and walking out of my room into the small tiled room to start the day.

~~~

"So you weren't at the garage on the night of the eight?" Negan hummed, leaning against the railing in front of the tv. His eyes were glued to the face of the man sitting on the stand. The poor guy was drenched in a nervous sweat, tight blue shirt sucking at his chubby neck. He swallowed thickly and leaned forward to the microphone.

"That's correct," he croaked.

"Oh, Jeremy," Negan chuckled, shaking his head and looking at his feet. "Don't you know perjury is a criminal offense?"

"I-I'm not lying!"

"Is that so?" The alpha held up the remote to the TV "I have some footage here that directly contradicts your story, man. One last chance." He wiggled the remote teasingly and raised his eyebrows. Jeremy held his ground. "Alrighty then, let's see what we have here." He took a step back and furrowed his brow at the remote and pressed a button. The screen in front of him came to life. I had to lean forward in order to see the video, but in reality it wasn't the security tape I was watching. It was him. I couldn't look away. He had dominated the room for the past hour and a half. His deep voice was never raised, but it still carried a commanding tone that had every person sitting on the stand shaking in their boots. My eyes trailed down his body. His suit clung to him in every perfect way. His hair was slicked back in its iconic style and the way his glasses perched on his face made my insides burn. Part of me regretted seeing him like this so close to my heat, but another part couldn't imagine if I hadn't. Rick leaned over and tapped my elbow.

"We've got him now for sure." He whispered in my ear. A smile formed on my lips as I nodded to him. There was a child-like joy on his face. He really did appreciate my presence. I turned my attention back to the video screen. The footage was fuzzy, but there was a clear figure of a woman standing still hunched over what I presumed was her phone. She was texting away, fingers flying over her screen. Suddenly a large figure, who had the same height and build as Jeremy, slunk out from the shadows. He slowly approached the woman from behind and raised a crowbar high above his head. He swung it down with brutal force. There were small gasps of horror from the jury and the crowd as the crowbar connected solidly with the woman's head. She collapsed in a heap, but Jeremy didn't stop beating her until she was a pile of mush. Negan clicked the TV off.

"Well, shit, Jeremy," He boomed "I do in fact think you are lyin' to me." He tossed the remote down on his table top and gave a grim scoff. "Everyone just saw you turn poor Miss Parker's head into your personal punching bag. You still wanna claim you were no where near there?" All of the color had drained from Jeremy's round face. He swallowed again, tugging at his restricting collar. But soon, his face turned a deep shade of pink and he slammed his beefy palms on the flat surface of the box he was sitting in.

"That bitch deserved it!" He howled, gasping for air. "She had no business-" He stopped when Negan raised his hand silently.

"I really don't care," He sighed, turning around and grinning broadly when he saw the defense team resting their heads in their hands in defeat. "I'll let the jury do the rest, your honor."

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Smith." The judge said, voice prickling with annoyance. Negan returned to his bench and pulled out his seat. But before he sat down he gave Rick a small thumbs up. And I could have sworn that he flashed me a little smile as well.

~~~

"You were incredible in there!" I cheered, giving Negan a high five. The contact made my skin tingle, but I passed it off as the consequences of the impact. "You really made that guy tremble like a kid!"

"It's what I do," Negan chuckled deeply. He looked around me and furrowed his brow. "Where's your dad?"

"He's pulling the car around," I said "I just figured I should let you know how good you did before I leave." He was so close. He smelled so good. The same combination of whiskey and campfire that could get me drunk in a few breaths. I was so focused on his intoxicating musk that I didn't notice the group of alphas that were headed our way. Negan did, though. I heard a rumbling from his chest and felt a hand clasp around my shoulder. Confusion clouded my mind and I looked up to him for some answers.

"The next case is starting soon," He said smoothly "Let's go wait for your dad outside." I agreed and he steered me out onto the steps of the courthouse. The short skirt and heels I was wearing weren't exactly comfortable for walking down stairs, so I held onto Negan's forearm as he guided me down to street level. There was a small breeze and I saw his jaw tense as a soft gust of wind swirled up from behind me and into his body. It no doubt carried my scent on it, and an alpha like Negan could probably tell what state I was in.

"So," I sighed, looking to engage him further "What's next?"

"Well," He tilted his head and ran a hand over his bear-covered chin. "Jeremy goes to jail. Your dad and the department get praise. And I get to go to the bar for a celebratory drink." He paused for a moment, looking me up and down quickly. "You want to join me?" I opened my mouth to say something. To be honest, I wasn't sure what I was going to say. I didn't really drink, but I was willing to do absolutely anything that Negan wanted. But it was then that Rick rounded the corner and gave the horn a little honk.

"I would love to," I settled on "But dad has a full day of father-daughter fun times planned, and I don't really want to keep him waiting." I gestured awkwardly to where Rick was sitting in the car, bopping his head gently to incoherent music.

"Totally understand, doll." He grinned.

"Maybe another time, though?"

"For sure."

"See you around, Negan."

"Bye, doll, have fun. And be safe"

~~~

Negan was pleasantly buzzed, as per usual. He got off his motorcycle and hung his helmet on the handlebar before lightly stumbling into the house from the dark garage. The sight he saw he did not expect. There sat his fiancé in the living room, arms crossed over her chest with a pissed expression on her face. And beside her was a woman he knew all too well.

"The hell is goin' on here?" He asked, slurring his words slightly.

"I could ask you the same thing, Negan."

"Lucille, what the fuck is she doing in our house?"

"Oh, so you know her?" Lucille growled. Negan just licked his lips and flicked his gaze between the two women sitting in front of him. "Of course you do. You have been fucking her after all." Negan groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"Baby, please-" He started, but Lucille cut him off.

"Don't you dare," She hissed, jumping to her feet and balling her hands into fists "You don't get to call me that after what you've done, Negan. You slept with another woman. Hell, maybe more than one. You ruined our relationship." Negan took a step forward but Lucille raised her hand and pointed to the kitchen table. "Don't take another step. Your stuff is in that box." Negan looked to see a cardboard box sitting alone in the dark kitchen, his belongings poking out of the top. "I never want to see you in my house again."

"Lucille, can't we just talk about this? You don't understand." He pleased, extending a hand to her. She batted it away.

"There's nothing to talk about." She spat "You cheated on me, Negan! What is there to understand? How can you expect me to forgive you for that?" A moment of silence passed between them. The other woman shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Negan glared at her before turning his eyes back to his now ex-fiancé.

"I have no where to stay." He whispered.

"That's not my problem." Lucille said boldly "Take your shit and leave. Don't come back. We're done."

~~~

I stirred the pot of spaghetti while humming a song I heard on a radio earlier. The father-daughter activities had consisted of driving around town and revisiting old spots we used to go to when I was younger. We got ice cream at the shop down the street and then watched the sun set at the park that we used to picnic at. It was nice. College did really fix our relationship. The TV in the next room hummed quietly and Rick was talking on the phone with someone. I heard him hang up and walk into the kitchen.

"Think there's enough in there for three?" He asks with a sigh, looking over my shoulder.

"Should be, why?" I return, meeting his gaze. He takes a deep breath and scratches his neck.

"Um, well, Negan's fiancé kicked him out of the house. Apparently she found out he was cheating on her. He doesn't have anywhere to stay." He mumbled "He's gonna be sleeping here for a bit." I stopped stirring. The water started to bubble too close to the top, but I blew a gust of air to push it down.

"Why here?" was all I could muster.

"He really helped me with your mom. It's the least I can do."

I just hummed in acknowledgement and returned to my cooking. So Negan was engaged. And he CHEATED on his fiancé? Maybe I didn't know Negan as well as I thought I did...

~~~

"I just can't believe she kicked me out!" Negan seethed, shoveling a spoonful of spaghetti into his mouth. He was still chewing when he continued. "She didn't even give me a chance to explain myself!"

"I hate to say it, but you did cheat on her, buddy," Rick said carefully, not wanting to poke the angry alpha in the wrong way "She's upset."

"I was in a rut." Negan growled.

"For four months?"

I was making a plate for myself, listening to the conversation from across the room. Rick's phone buzzed on the kitchen table and he picked it up.

"Sorry, I have to take this." He sighed, shaking his head and standing to his feet. He left the room and suddenly it was just me and Negan. I took my plate to the opposite head of the table, watching Negan wolf down his dinner.

"This shit is really good, sweetheart," He groaned. Normally, the noise would have sent me over the moon. But there were so many other emotions clouding my mind. "You ever consider changing your major to culinary arts?" I didn't say anything, just twirled my fork in my serving of pasta.

"Why'd you do it?" I said quietly, almost in a whisper. Negan paused instantly.

"What?"

"Why'd you cheat on her?" My eyes never left my plate but I could hear him shifting in his seat, rubbing his face while trying to answer my question.

"I don't know," He said. His voice was soft, sincere. Something I had never heard from him before. My eyes drifted up and met his. They were the same tawny color, but there was something else behind them. Something I couldn't distinguish. "I thought...Something was off in our relationship. I guess I thought that I could fix it by trying something different. I ran into Tanya at a bar a few months ago. She's a beta, just like Lucille. Wanted to be with an alpha. I gave in. Just for a quick fuck, didn't mean anything. I didn't like her. I told her that but...she...she wanted more, I guess. She fucking threatened me. Threatened to ruin my life unless I kept seeing her. I chose to do it. I don't know if that decision was the right one or not but it's the one I made. I texted her last night to tell her it was over. Never fucking thought she would come to my home." I was chewing the inside of my cheek the whole time he was speaking. I didn't know how much of his story was true, but he sounded like he was hurting.

"Why did you break it off?" I whispered.

"That's your damn question?" He scoffed, giving a short smile. He looked in my eyes. I knew the answer. Or at least I thought I did. He opened his mouth, but Rick reentered the room before he could say anything.

"Alright, sorry about that guys," He said, slipping back into his seat. "What did I miss?"

~~~

Negan was set up in the bedroom next door to mine. Our doors faced each other from across the hall. We would have to share a bathroom. Rick didn't seem to have a problem with it, but with my heat starting I wasn't too sure about the whole arrangement. I felt more cramps riddle my body. I was ready to bed, ready to curl up in a ball and go to sleep, but something called me across the hall. Curiosity got me and I turned slightly, walking up and leaning on the doorframe. There was Negan, clad in grey sweatpants and a black tank top, unpacking his things.

"Hey," I said quietly, not wanting to startle him. He turned around. He looked older like this, hair unkempt and his glasses on. When he saw me his lips curled in a smile. Any trace of vulnerability I had seen earlier was now gone.

"Hey to you."

"I just want to apologize for earlier," I said "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm also sorry that you have to be subjected to me and my dad for the foreseeable future." He let out a snicker and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it, doll. And you're not that bad. I appreciate Rick; he's a good man." He scratched his beard and looked over at the clock next to the bed. "It's late, you should get some rest." He took a deep breath and I nodded. I turned to leave but he called my name softly. "You know I meant what I said last night, you are looking good." I smiled but didn't say anything and crossed the hall, shutting my door and hopping into bed.

#negan x y/n #negan x you #negan x reader #negan smith #alpha!negan #omega!reader #twd a/b/o #a/b/o kink #a/b/o dynamics

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genshinfanboy · 4 years ago

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A Special Meeting.

|Hello everyone. I know it's been awhile. My apologies about that. I was working on some irl stuff and didn't have time to write. I'm back. I had changed my rules slightly for requests. They are still closed. I'll make an update post soon. This one-shot is fairly indulgent for me. It is fairly long so be warned about that. Anyways please enjoy and as always feel free to change the pronouns to fit your own. Have a good day or night. :)

Albedo x Cryo! Male reader.

Warning: minor Spoilers for characters stories.

Albedo was sitting in the library reading some books. He was looking into something he had ran into at Dragonspine. He had a feeling it had to do with Festering Desire. He gave a small sigh. This small research task would become that much more tedious if the Calvary Captain decided to visit the library that day. He was looking through the shelves to find some history books. They should help him solve this strange occurance. He walked around the library reading the spines of books to see what he's looking for. As he was walking he heard Lisa talking with a voice he didn't recognize. "So cutie would you like to be Lisa's little helper today?" She said. Albedo pitied the poor person who was being roped into helping Lisa. He didn't mean to eavesdrop but he was curious about the other person Lisa was talking to. The person seemed overly polite.

(Y/N) gave Lisa a small smile. "So Miss Lisa is this why you asked me to come here today? I'm not going to have to make a run for over due books am I?" He asked. He shifted slightly on his feet. He didn't like just standing still. He watched Lisa's face closely to gauge if his initial thought was correct. She gave a small laugh and crossed her arms. "I don't need you to do that today Cutie. I do have some potion recipes I'd like to have you look at while you're here. You don't visit Mondstadt very often after all. Make me wonder if you even need your old teacher after all." She answer. "However if you want to make book runs I won't stop you. I am more than happy to keep you here longer. Maybe we can even reopen the lessons you missed while being gone?" (Y/N) got a bit worried as he saw his old master's smile turn into a bit of a smirk. He quickly shook his head putting his hands up. "I think helping you with the potions will be enough today. I'll make sure to send letter more often and visit more. No need to reopen the lessons. So do we need to go to your lab for the potions or would you like to go to the Alchemy table in the middle of toqn?" He quickly stated. He wanted to change the topics so Lisa wouldn't get any ideas.

Albedo listened to the conversation a bit long. Something about the person talking to Lisa seemed intriguing. His ears picked up the part about potions. He was interested in the potions and decided to walk towards the voices. "Pardon my intrusion. I happened to over hear your conversation. Is it possible for me to join in on the potion creation?" He asked approaching the two. His eyes met will the person talking with Lisa. He looked at them for a second their features seemed enticing. He received a look from the unknown male. The look was a bit hard to decipher. "Oh Albedo! I didn't know you were here. You're welcome to join us. This cutie has been all over Teyvat and is quite the genius." Lisa greeted with a smile. Her voice definitely surprised. He observed the other male turning slightly red. "I'm not that smart Miss Lisa. It's a pleasure to meet you I'm (Y/N) (L/N)." The other male held out a hand to him. "No it's mine. My name is Albedo." He said taking the other's hand. "Shall we to the potions?"

(Y/N) looked at the light haired person. Albedo was definitely attractive. He was definitely interested in the other. He glanced at the blue eyes shyly. He hoped he wouldn't be caught staring as the three were walking. He wondered if Albedo was apart of the knights. He wasn't too fond of most knighted. Maybe Albedo would be one of the ones he liked. They made it to Lisa's lab. (Y/N) watched her pull out the recipe for the potion and hand it to him. "This was left in one of the returned books recently. I've been having issues trying to figure out what it is. Some of the ingredients aren't things I've recognized. Read it through and let me know what you think." She said. He started reading through it. He felt his cheeks heat up as he noticed Albedo was close to him reading over his shoulder. As he read through the ingredients of the potion he noticed something strange. On the worn out piece of paper there was a faded instruction. It was barely legible. "Miss Lisa there's a need for a cryo vision energy for this recipe. I find that a bit strange. There is an ingredient from every nation. I'm pretty sure that I have enough of all of the ingredients to make one potion. Another thing I noticed is the instruction at the end is rather off for some of the ingredients. It's quite faded and was hard to decipher at first between Cryo and Pyro. Though I am certain it says Cryo. It's odd to use cold rather then heat to combine everything." He explained. He barely noticed Albedo step a bit closer to him to get a better look. His face became a bit more red. He was praying to the archons that his old teacher wouldn't notice.

Albedo leaned closer to see what (Y/N) saw. It was a rather unique. He was impressed with how quickly the other had read the recipe. He finished reading finally and stepped back slightly. "That is fascinating. There is no name or description of what the potion does. Perhaps one of us can drink it to find out the effects. It could make for a new discovery." He explained. He did wish to see this through until the end. "Well Cutie it seems you are the perfect little helper for this task." Lisa said wrapping her arms around the other. Albedo watched his (e/c) eyes widened. They were a lovely color. "May I just observe while you make the potion." He said. The other two in the group nodded. (Y/N) started working skillfully making the potion. Albedo was watching him. He brought his sketchbook out and started drawing the sight. After a few minutes it was done. He smiled as he looked at the sketch of the other male. He watched as the potion was also completed It glowed a nice light blue color. He stepped closer. He set his sketch book down to look at the potion. He noticed little snowflakes it as well. Were they from (Y/N)'s cryo energy? He looked up at the other two. Lisa and (Y/N) seemed to be looking at something. He followed their line of sight and saw them looking at his sketch. He saw the other male blushing like crazy. "Oh my apologies for drawing you without permission. I did it without thinking." He said with a very faint blush on his cheeks.

(Y/N) could detect a hint of embarrassment. "Oh no it's fine the entire drawing is very beautiful. I'm very impressed." He quickly said to relieve him of the embarrassment. "Who should test the potion?" He was a bit shy. "I think you should darling. You did most of the work after all." Lisa said with a smile. He was a bit nervous to try it. Though it shouldn't be that bad plus his curiousity over took his worry. He gave the old arch mage a nod and grabbed it. He uncorked it and starting putting it to his lips. The moment the rim touched his lips his wrist was grabbed by someone stopping him from drinking it. He looked up in surprise his (e/c) irises meeting the beautiful blue eyes. "Wait I just wish to clarify something before I allow you to ingest that. All of the ingredients are safe to ingest correct?" He said in a worried tone. (Y/N) would be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat at the tone of Albedo's voice. He gave a smile to the other. "I don't carry any herbs or anything that are lethal to others. They tend to interact poorly with some of the herbs I always carry for medicinal use. Thank you for your worry though." He said giving Albedo a soft smile. The two shared a look. "I'd still feel more comfortable if I was the one to ingest it." He said. (Y/N) started thinking for a second. "How about a both drink half and then Lisa can monitor us if anything goes wrong?" He suggested.

Albedo let out a sigh. "You certainly are a stubborn person." He hid his small smile. "Well let me drink it first." He said holding out a hand. He saw the (e/c) male place the bottle in his own hand. He didn't know why he reacted the way he did. It was truly strange. He found a strange infatuation with this person. Perhaps it was the other's thought process. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the man he was thinking about. "Hmm I wonder if since it uses a cryo vision to combine things if it may affect vision holders differently." He said. Lisa watched eagerly. "If it does then this potion could potentially be dangerous." She said with a hand to her chin. Albedo gave Lisa a nod before drinking half of the potion. It was very sweet which made him slightly happy. He didn't feel any immediate effects. "The taste is sweet. However I haven't felt anything immediate happen." He said to the others. The former Arch Mage and the other male seemed interested. He watched the other male down the rest of the potion. "Yuck that's super bitter......" his sentence was cut off when he started staring at Albedo. The Alchemist definitely wary of the stare. "Is there something on my face?" He inquired. The other quickly shook his head. "No it's just that the potion seems to be affecting me faster than it might be affecting you or something. Is it because I had made ......" the other's voice seemed to trail off. He noticed swaying. Lisa must've too since she quickly put her hands on (Y/N)'s arms to stabilize him. Albedo quickly rushed over and checked for anything dire. Soon there was a puff of light blue smoke around the three. When the smoke had cleared a teen stood where (Y/N) should've been. Something clicked in Albedo's head. So that's why he had been so infatuated with someone he thought he hardly knew. This was someone he met once before. They had spoke for hours on different topics when they were teenagers. (Y/N) was the person Albedo cared very deeply for in his youth before he met Alice and Klee. (Y/N) was Albedo's first love. He was once again snapped from his thoughts by the person he was thinking about. "? I thought you and your master had left. I was waiting for you." The teen said with a frown. "I am sorry for leaving you back then. I assure you it won't happen again." He said giving a reassuring smile. He meant what he said there's no way he wanted to lose the other again. He looked at Lisa who seemed confused. Before another clouds of light blue smoke appeared. (Y/N) was standing between the two looking slightly confused. "Wait were you the boy (Y/N) talked endlessly Albedo?" Lisa asked with a smirk. She saw both boys go bright red. "Miss Lisa I asked you not to mention that." He said.

As the conversation died down there was one thing for certain. Albedo wasn't going to lose (Y/N) a second time.

#albedo x male reader #genshin impact #albedo #genshin lisa #taylor writes #fanfic #male reader

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wandsandwheezes · 5 years ago

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Inconspicuous | G.W

T/W // Ouid content, kissing and suggestive content but no actual smut it doesn’t even really get too spicy

Summary // 2.5k // Reader is Ron’s best friend and George is absolutely 100% in love with her and has been crushing for a while, Ron attempts to be inconspicuous and get inside info from his best friend for his brother but we all know how Ron is.

A/N - big surprise i’ve simped again and i’ve written yet ANOTHER George fic. massive thank you to @witch-and-a-half for her ADORBS request bc she has inspired me not only to write ouid content but ron content so i luvvv her sm🧡🧡

taglist; @weasleysflowr @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @hufflepuffgirly @sarcasticallywitty15

If there was one thing that Ron wasn't good at, it would have to be subtlety. It was painfully obvious how much he liked Hermione to everyone else before he'd even come to terms with it himself. This all ran through George's head as he toyed with the idea of trying to get his baby brother to set him up. 'This is a terrible idea' he thought, but the words had already started spilling before he could stop himself.

George watched you teaching his twin and Ginny how to play a muggle card game, something that you were disturbingly good at, so good that George was convinced you were using a charmed deck whenever you would play with friends or whenever you showed a card trick. The aspect of teaching a wizard to do a magicians trick was what made you love cards so much. "She's great isn't she." George mused.

"I'd say so, just don't let her convince you that she hasn't charmed the deck," Ron laughs as he works on polishing his and Harry's broomsticks ready for the return of quidditch season. George's eyes snapped back to his brother, out of his trance. "Yeah, I'm surprised someone as great as her is still single." He hoped Ron would catch his drift but the ever oblivious boy shoved off the comment. "I know why she's single, She's great, a catch even and she's my best friend but, bloody hell, the guys she dates are such pricks."

"oh…" George's heart sank a little, He knew this was a long shot trying to get his brother to set him up, because you and Ron were the closest thing to twins, besides sharing a womb. He thought maybe he could just grow a pair and ask you out himself but that seemed like such a bad idea to the poor boy. "Well, hypothetically, If she were to date someone who you already knew, say quite well, I'm sure you'd be happy for her, no?"

Ron laughed a little, "I see you, trying to be Fred's wingman, test the waters and see how I'd react." George punches his brother's arm, shaking his head before dropping his voice to a whisper. "No, you blind bat, I mean me. I like her."

"why didn't you lead with that?" Ron goes to walk over to her, but George stops him in his tracks, pulling him back so they're standing in front of each other. "No, wait, wait, stop. You can't make it obvious like that." Ron sighs, rolling his eyes, "what do you suppose I do then?"

"I'm not asking you to set us up or anything, just, I don't know? See if she's interested." Ron looks over to you, catching your eye, you smile over to the boys, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before instructing fred on a good game move. "I think you'd be good for her, looking at it."

"what do you mean by that?" he was prying now, "Her last relationship was, well, not brilliant. Ravenclaw guy, really stuck up and super uptight about everything, I swear he was a lousy git and didn't take care of her, but she was infatuated with him, god knows why."

"I see, you know, I've had a crush on her since I was like 14 right?" Ron's jaw dropped, looking at his brother quizzically, "wow, I wouldn't have known." God, he was blind, if not blind, just blissfully unaware if what's going on around him. "Well, leave it to me, big brother!"

There's been things George would do over the last few years, that to you were just small acts of kindness from someone you'd known your whole life; Picking up things you'd dropped, reaching top shelves, helping with hard potions papers, him teaching you how to smoke - but to him he's been flirting with you non stop. He'd never seen anyone or anything compare to your beauty.

Later on in the evening George passed by you in the kitchen, hand pressed to the small of your back, he looked down at you with a smile, his whole stomach felt like it was filled with butterflies. You both stayed there a moment longer than usual. George's scent was heavenly, and you'd never admit it but it was a smell you knew you could get drunk off of.

Ron noticed the interaction between you two, watching as George exited the room, to head out to join his twin in the shed for the evening's activities "Hey, Y/N mind helping me with the snacks, that is if you're joining George, Fred and I tonight ." you giggled, walking around the long table to join him, "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world, Ronniekins. What do you need me to do?"

He instructed you in what snacks needed grabbing, packing them into a bag, ready for the night, making sure to grab some water and the blankets from the airing cupboard. "So, uh… How's things with Marc was it? Or Marv?" you rolled your eyes, "Let's not, god we haven't spoken at all this summer. At this point I think you'd make a better boyfriend than he ever will."

He laughed, swinging the bag over his shoulder picking up the bottles, "Well, I may be unavailable romantically-" he starts, before you cut him off "and Emotionally." Ron rolls his eyes, with a huff, "Riiiight, however, George and Percy are always available." His eyes were scanning your face for a reaction, "Oh, Percy, my favourite!" you giggle, the sarcasm evident in your tone, you're gathering the blankets into your arms before you ponder on it. "Well, Not that you'd like to know, because he is your brother - but my god George smells amazing, I definitely would if I had the chance."

"Blimey, Really, Y/N? That's fantastic!" Ron slips up slightly, he's fucked it, it's so obvious now and he tries to cover it up, but you're just as oblivious as he is most of the time. "Fantastic?" you prod, Ron was your best friend after all and you sensed something was up. "Oh, well you know how I feel about your taste in Men, I think George would be good for you, like you said, he is my brother I could always strangle him if he's a dick." You head out towards the shed, the bitter cold from outside making you glad you'd brought the blankets. "Like George would ever want to date me, Ron!" you laugh, pulling the blankets close to your chest. Ron laughs along with you, nervously but glad he hadn't blown his Brother's cover.

"Evening Boys!" you chirp, closing the door to the shed quickly to try and salvage some warmth. "We come bringing gifts." Ron adds, swinging the bag down off his shoulder and onto the floor, "Actually, damn, I left the good shit in our room, George." Ron widens his eyes, seizing the opportunity to give you and George a moment together, "I'll come with you Fred, I want to grab my hoodie." you speak up, grabbing Ron's wrist before he leaves, "Can I borrow one please?" you pout up at him, he laughs shaking his head, jokingly brushing you off with a "No…" smiling a fake smile.

Ron looks over to George, mouthing a 'she likes you' behind your back praying that you don't notice, pointing at you and making a heart with his hands before pointing then at George, like some really piss poor attempt at charades. George however takes the hint, moving a couple of the pillows on the sofa he's sat on so that you can join him.

It wasn't as if it was awkward between you and George but, now you were alone together, you felt the new tension. A part of you had to admit that you were attracted to him, after all he looked incredible, muscly biceps, veiny forearms and big hands, his hair was still long, with an effortless wave to it. You already craved his scent, but did you crave him too?

His eyes were on you, he couldn't help but fall a little harder every time he saw you in blue, it was his favourite on you. "You look beautiful," He spoke up, smiling at you "Blue really suits you." He tried to act casual but awkwardness seemed to be taking over, he was hardly able to express himself. "You know, you're not too bad looking yourself, George. What I would do for a man like you." you sigh, reminding yourself that you're returning to hogwarts single after yet another failed relationship.

"Why want someone like me when you could always have the real deal." He joked, you scooted a little closer to him looking into his eyes, his hand rested on your knee as you moved in closer to him, his eyes were flicking between your lips and your eyes and for a moment you felt it. The Spark. He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a quick kiss.

It was enough for you to realise why Ron had been acting so weird and suddenly you'd realised just how hard you'd been crushing on the twin in front if you. He was truly phenomenal, you were about to lean in for a second kiss when the door swung open again. Ron and Fred return, the former, tosses a hoodie at you, "I couldn't find another one so Fred grabbed this off George's bed."

"You don't mind, do you, Georgie?" you spoke innocently, looking into his eyes. The use of the nickname as it rolled off your lips, was enough for his stomach to be in knots, "Of course not, angel." He smiled softly, of course it had to be the navy one, he was growing frustrated but nevertheless he was playing into the innocence. Ron had told Fred about the plan to get you two together tonight, to which the older twin was elated, ready to see his brother shut up about being so lonely.

You'd started the night early, meaning that by 11:30 you were all absolutely stoned, you'd ended up with your legs tangled with George's, and his thumb rubbing circles onto your thigh. You'd been pouting, asking him to help you with the bong. He was already whipped. The higher you both got, the less you both seemed to care that you weren't alone, George finally presses another a kiss to your lips. The small, gentle kisses, had turned into delicate touches, Ron notices just how close you both were to each other, oddly recognising that same feeling when he saw Dean kissing Ginny, but he wasn't sure if it was you or George he was meant to be protective of.

You'd dozed off on George's chest, his fingers playing delicately with the ends of your hair, "I think we'll leave you two here then. I'm baked and ready for bed, what about you, Fred?" Ron looks over to his older brother who is taking a final hit, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "Mmm, yeah I could do with some alone time to work on some products." he adds, the two boys gathering their things and heading swiftly out of the room, not before Fred winks at is twin, causing George to flip him off with a small laugh.

You looked like an angel, asleep on his chest, he truly was In love with you, even if you weren't with him. He started to overthink, about what a life with you would be like, how beautiful you'd look underneath him, how you would take his breath away as you walked down the isle. He was more than head over heels, his full body was falling deeply in love with you, and yet a life with you was so close, he could taste it.

Only in your dreams did you ever imagine falling asleep on George's chest. Your fantasies of him being a gentle caring boyfriend, overwhelmed you. You hadn't really ever thought about how much you craved the smell, the touch and now the taste of a boy you'd known your whole life. You'd been searching for something perfect but it was always there for you at home, waiting for a moment with you.

When you found yourself awake again, you'd noticed the other two boys had left, leaving you and George cuddled on the sofa, you didn't want to leave. He had you, hook, like and sinker and all he'd done is kiss you. "hello, sleepyhead," he joked, his hand rubbing small circles on your lower back. You smiled wide "Hi, Georgie," you murmured, still waking yourself up, you realise you're still quite high and looking into his bloodshot eyes you knew he was too.

He drew you in for another kiss, but this time, he didn't hold back, his hand was pressed against your jaw, inticing you in more. Small pecks turned to longer kisses, causing you to swing your leg over his thighs so that you were straddling his hips. One of his hands were now on the small of your back, while the other had tangled in your hair, this move had meant that the kisses had now turned to a full make out session. The way you'd kissed each other was full of passion, and Merlin was George good with his lips, it was the best kisses you'd ever had.

When things started to heat up, he stopped himself, he didn't want to treat you like a fling, something that happened when you were both high. "Wait, Y/N, I don't want this to be a one night thing. I want all of you, for well, as long as you want me."

Your heart sank when he'd pulled away and you thought that maybe he'd regretted doing this with you, you went to apologise before his words actually set in, did he actually want you? "You want to be with me?" you ask softly, your forehead pressed against his, hands still running through the hair at the back of his head. "More than you'll ever know," he admitted. "finding someone like you makes me the luckiest man alive."

You giggle, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Who would've known you were such a sappy man?" his arms wrap around your waist, flipping you over so that he was hovering over you, causing a laugh to rip through your vocal chords. "I can do less sappy and a bit rougher if you'd prefer" he murmurs suggestively, pressing kisses along your jaw, his hands traveling up your arms until your hands are pressed against each others, fingers lacing together.

This morning when you woke up, kissing George was the last thing on your mind, now it's the only thing you can think of doing. He said he was the lucky one but truly you felt luckier, you had someone who would do anything for you, and to think it was all Ron's (very capable) doing.

On your wedding day, six or so years later, Ron thought it would be a good idea for his Man of Honour speech, to tell everyone the story of how he set up his best friend with his brother. The speech ended with you both in tears at how now his best friend was his Sister In law and that he was glad you finally found a decent taste in men.

#george weasley fic #george weasley #george weasley x reader #fred and george #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley #weasley twins #harry potter #harry potter fic

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

Note

Last one, I promise. MonsterHunter!Bucky or Steve where you’re the rare creature they’re after. You don’t have to write any of these, I just feel like you would appreciate these 💕 keep up the good work giorno, I’m so proud of you bb❤️

Thank you for your requests, hun! I haven’t worked on other ones, but I’m happy to present you this story 😌❤ Hope you’re going to like it!

Daughters of Persephone

Pairing: monster hunter!Steve Rogers x vampire!Reader

Warnings: yandere-ish Steve, kidnapping, death of minor characters, mentions of torture and suicide, gore (a severed head), general vampire stuff.

Words: 4109.

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Suddenly waking up in the middle of the night, you fell down your bed, desperately trying to turn on the small lamp on your bedside table and reaching too far, soon ending on the cold floor. Trying to get up, you hit your head on the table and moaned. Saints, what on Earth was happening? You barely realized you were laying on the floor in the dark, but you knew for sure you were woken up by someone's agonized cry.

Who was that? The closest rooms to yours belonged to Iriya and Alice since mother lived in the north wing in a room she once shared with her late husband. Who screamed? Was it Iriya? Why was she screaming in the middle of the night? Was it just a nightmare? You had no time to think, finally standing up and rushing to the door, abandoning the idea with the lights: window curtains in the corridor had never been kept closed, so you would be able to see something thanks to the moonlight.

Hurrying to the point you ran barefoot, shivering in the dark - the floors had always been cold despite mother doing her best with all those expensive carpets - you reached Iriya's room and banged on her door, hoping it was just a nightmare.

'Iri-"

Before you called her name, the door opened by itself, and you froze in fear: Iriya was always closing her door at night, explaining that it all started when drunk Alice mixed the rooms and then woke her up with her angry shouting. Why was the door open? Was it better to go find mother rather than go there all by yourself?

No. What if Iriya needed help right now? You couldn't risk it.

Nervously getting in, your fists clenched painfully, you peaked inside your sister's room only to find her beheaded, her body laying on her spacious bed, Iriya's head on the carpet with her face caked in blood, her mouth open as if she was still screaming, pleading for help. Despite total darkness, you could see the white bedsheets soaked in her blood, the rich crimson fluid seeping through the fabric and dirtying the floor. You felt the bile rising in your throat, almost throwing up and barely containing yourself.

Iriya was dead. She was dead.

You were horrified to the point you could hardly move, your hands trembling as you wept, then getting on your knees and trying to reach out to Iriya's head but failing to do so - you didn’t have the courage to take her head in your hands, blood spreading further and almost reaching your long cream-colored nightgown Alice always mocked you for. You needed to run and find help. The murderer was still in the house, you were sure.

The thought of burglars breaking in had crossed your mind before, but you had never imagined some madman to get into your house and kill your poor older sister in such barbaric, horrible, revolting way, cutting her head off as if she was a character in some sick videogame. Why would anyone do this? How could they murder a harmless young woman sleeping in her bed?

You needed to get to Alice. The murderer could already be there.

Letting out a loud cry, you got back on your feet, hanging on to the large dark jacaranda drawer with nice thin metal legs - mother had it customized specially for Iriya on her 20th birthday. Thinking what would mother say once she saw her daughter with her head chopped off, you covered your mouth with your hand, unable to hold your tears. How could it happen? Who could commit such atrocity?

"Alice? Alice!" You could see the light coming from beneath her door.

Kicking it with all your force, you prepared for the worst, ready to jump at whoever you saw, but the only one there was Alice herself standing close to her desk. She was holding a revolver in her hands.

"Alice, Iriya-" You muttered, unable to say your sister was dead out loud and just pointing to the corridor with your shaking hand. "Iriya, she..."

"I know." Your other sister said through gritted teeth, her eyes still on the revolver she was holding. "It's not like I'm deaf."

You always had a hard time understanding her even when she was perfectly sober and in a good mood. Alice was strange: she reminded you of girls in Nirvana's music videos, either pretty angry or too energetic for you to keep up with her. She had been drinking as long as you could remember her, always silently protesting against mother's lifestyle and probably having a grudge against her and you. When you asked Iriya if you'd done something that upset her she just brushed it off, saying the youngest sister had always been a little monster in the family.

Now she looked like a monster, too.

"It wasn't you, right?" You whispered, holding your hands against your mouth. "You didn't do it to Iriya, did you?"

"Of course, I didn't!" She shouted angrily but shut her mouth as she saw you trembling, all of a sudden her expression guilty and grim. "Sorry, it's too late to explain. I don't have much time."

You nodded eagerly through tears, holding the door and ready to leave, "We need to run!"

You didn't miss a dark chuckle escaping Alice as she smiled at you bitterly, bringing the revolver's barrel to her head, her hand not shaking the slightest bit. "No. I've been waiting for this opportunity for a long time, and now is my chance."

Your head was spinning from shock and confusion. Iriya's chopped head, her bed full of blood, Alice pointing the gun at herself... Was everyone mad? Were you mad? Was it some nightmare you were seeing in your sleep? It felt damn real.

Seeing your horrified expression, your younger sister lifted the corners of her mouth, a broken smile on her face. "I'm sorry it turned out that way, but no one of us has been given a chance. This is how things have to end."

"Alice, please-"

"I have a full magazine. I know it sounds terrible, but after I'm done you have to shoot yourself, too. Believe me, it's the best you can do."

Before you opened your mouth to ask for an explanation and demand her to stop, Alice had pulled the trigger right in front of your eyes, blood and something that reminded you the insides of her brain smearing the wall to her left. While you screamed louder than you ever done in your entire life, her body landed on the floor with a loud thud, the left side of her head completely destroyed as you stared at the bloody mess, red liquid gushing out of the deep wound.

You felt like you were losing your sanity, crawling to her and cupping her head, unable to believe your eyes. She couldn't do it to herself. She has never seemed suicidal! What would she end herself like this? What did her words about some chance meant? Was it really her who cut off Iriya's head?

Wrapping your hands around her shoulders, you tried lifting her suddenly heavy body, crying and demanding your sister to stand up and stop pretending. It just couldn't be true. This madness couldn't be happening.

"Please, please!" You kept weeping, your nightgown soaked in her blood as her head laid on your lap. If body wasn't warm and heavy, you could believe it was all a nightmare, a frightening dream you saw, but Alice's empty eyes staring at you were making you painfully aware of your insane reality.

You cried so hard you missed the heavy steps of the intruder, realizing someone's here only when he opened the door and came in as if he weren't bothered by you screaming at all. It was a tall, wide-shouldered man in his thirties, his hair shining like gold in the bright light of Alice's room, a sharp blooded knife in his hand - the one he used to cut Iriya's head off. You reacted surprisingly fast, reaching out to revolver laying on the floor close to your sister's lifeless body, and tried shielding her as if it mattered, as if she didn't take her own life minutes ago. Your head was hurting, your thoughts mixed up: you barely understood what was happening, but you knew this man wasn't here to help, standing in the doorway with a stony expression on his handsome face while you pointed Alice's revolver at him, your hand shaking.

Who was he? What did he want from your family?

"Go away," you cried, hoping he wouldn't get closer. "Go away! You won't have her!"

You clenched the fabric of your sister's black tee, barely seeing the figure of the intruder as tears were making everything seem blurry.

The man was silent, staring at you with a blank expression as if he weren't interested in cutting off Alice's head and then murdering you, too. He made no attempts to come closer, although he didn't leave the room either, simply standing on his place and not moving an inch while you struggled to keep what remained of your sanity. Could you ask your mother for help? Should you yell so she'd hear you? Would it be better to challenge the murderer yourself since your mother certainly wasn't a super soldier to deal with someone like him? No, no, you couldn't shout to catch your mom's attention. Even if she'd hear you from the other side of the building, you couldn't let her end up just like your darling sisters. You needed to shoot the man.

But as you kept your gun aimed at him, you slowly realized you couldn't do it despite him clearly being a culprit of this madness. It just wasn't in you. You weren’t made to kill other people. Maybe that's why Alice told you to shoot yourself? Maybe she knew you couldn't protect anyone even if you had a gun in your hands?

"Please, don't touch her." You pleaded him, your hand aching from holding a heavy revolver for so long. "She didn't do anything bad. Please, please just go."

"On the contrary." The man suddenly said, and you froze on your place, frightened to the core. "She was the epitome of bad, but it wasn't her fault. Can’t blame the both of you for what your mother has done.”

“Mother?”

Looking at his blood-stained black pants and leather boots with dry blood on them, you opened your mouth but didn’t utter a word, watching his grotesquely big figure relaxing against the wooden frame, a silver cross hanging from his neck, drops of blood on the shining metal looking like dirt. Oh God. He didn’t do anything to mother, did he? He didn’t kill everyone in the mansion, did he?

Wailing like a wounded animal, you kept your gun aiming at the man, praying for him to just leave, vanish, let you call the ambulance and police, let anyone come and help you. What did he wanted? Money? Mother kept them in the bank like any other human being. Did he want her jewelry? Her collection of antique service? He didn’t have to kill your mother and Iriya for it, they would give him anything willingly if he didn’t hurt anyone. Who was this lunatic? Did he do something to Alice, too? He did, undoubtedly. She wouldn’t commit suicide just like that. She might have had issues with alcohol, but your younger sister had never been suicidal.

... however, well, considering you barely remembered what had happened before your fall from the bridge, she might have been.

“Sorry, little girl.” The man suddenly said, landing on the floor and dropping his knife as if he weren’t planning to attack you - you were much doubted it, though. “I know it’s not your fault. You’ve been for how long with the family? Around three months, correct?”

Still shielding the dead body of Alice with yours, you whispered, tears still falling down on your nightgown wet with your sister’s blood, “What are you saying?”

A dry chuckle escaped him as if he knew you were gonna reply exactly like you did, his left cheek resting against his hand caked in crimson fluid, but it didn’t seem to bother him much as he rubbed his skin with his dirty fingers, smearing the blood.

“I’m saying your darling mother adopted you when her second daughter had committed suicide just like Alice. Couldn’t stand what she had to do to stay alive after she was turned, you know?”

Gritting your teeth, you felt the rage raising deep within your chest: the bastard had the audacity to mock your family and you after he had probably killed everyone but you in the mansion. He probably tried to make you drop your revolver and finish you off as fast as he could and run before the police arrives - if anyone was going to come at all. You lived all by yourself with no one but a cleaning lady coming once a week to help you take care of the mansion; it was Friday evening, and people would start wondering why both Iriya and Alice stopped attending university only after a couple of days. Police will probably discover your bodies only when they start to rot.

Clenching the gun in your hand, you pointed it directly to the man’s head, ready to pull the trigger. If you were gonna die or lose your sanity tonight, you had to make sure you kill the murderer of your family before. You could do it. You had to!

“I won’t make it difficult for you.” The man said calmly, seemingly unafraid of your gun. “One day you woke up here with no memories whatsoever, and that creature played a role of your loving mom, saying how she’s scared about you after some incident has happened. She forbade you to leave the mansion because it was doctor’s orders purely for your own sake. Of course, she said something about a rare genetic decease and forced you to drink your medicine before every meal like your sisters, didn’t she?”

Yes. Yes, she did. Although she refused telling you what had happened to you, later Iriya confessed you jumped off the bridge because of some bastard you loved once you figured out he only dated you because of your mother’s money. Of course, they destroyed all your photos with him and anything he gave you so nothing would remind you of that despicable man. You didn’t question it. You didn’t question your mother’s decision to make you study at home just so she could keep an eye on you. It was reasonable: what mother would leave her daughter unattended after a suicide attempt? Naturally, you didn’t question her words about the genetic decease running in the family thanks to your blue blood ancestors marrying within a family. In the end, both your mother and sisters were taking the medicine every meal.

How did he know that? Was he spying on your family?

Oh. A silver cross, a knife made with something that look a lot like silver, cutting the heads off... this madman thought he was a vampire hunter. He was a lunatic who had murdered your family because he decided you were vampires!

“Are you mad?” You shouted angrily at him, unable to believe someone would go so far for something so stupid. “Do you think mom gave me blood, and I couldn’t figure it out?”

“You think she’d give you pure blood to make you freak out?” The man grinned at you, and you felt nauseated: he was fucking insane. “Of course, she didn’t. She diluted it for you and added some supplements, sweeteners and artificial flavors.”

“You lost your mind.”

“Huh, you wish, little one.” He cocked his head to the side and took off his cross, you raising your gun and almost firing it at his sudden movement, but the stranger did nothing else, throwing the cross closer to you. “If you doubt my words, just take it. It’s pure silver. Your mother didn’t stand it, did she? Probably said something about it bringing bad memories.”

Yes, she did, but thinking it was because she was a vampire who could burn herself with silver was ridiculous. What, now all women wearing gold were considered monsters?

“Why would I do that?” You said, your damp from tears cheeks finally becoming dry. “What if you put some chemical on it?”

“Then it would burn me, too.” Showing you his hand, he proudly demonstrated you his fingers that looked perfectly well.

Maybe you were really going mad, but you had touched the cross laying close to Alice's arm and immediately regretted it since it stung as if it was hot as a frying pan on the stove. What was that? Why did it hurt? Unable to believe it, you grasped it in your hand and cried out, dropping it and bringing your hand closer - a large burn was spreading out on your skin, bleeding on the floor, your blood mixing with your sister's. How did it happen? What was that?

"See? That what happens when a vampire touches silver," before you opened your mouth, the stranger continued, "and no, vampires aren't scared of sunlight or garlic, that stuff is straight from the novels."

Crying from pain, your hand shaking, you still didn't lower the revolver despite your other hand already starting to hurt from having something so heavy for a couple of minutes. No, it couldn’t be. He tricked you, surely. Vampires didn't exist! Besides, how would mother get so much blood to feed all of you? It's not like some truck was delivering you blood packs from the hospital every day! And, of course, you had never seen any other human being coming to the house other than a family doctor treating you and a cleaning lady. Where would the blood for your medicine come from?

"Your mother has a nice dungeon with a few iron maidens, little one."

Bullshit. It was all bullshit! Did he expect you to believe your kind, intelligent, loving mother who donated money for building a school in the village would kill innocent people? It was outrageous! From the day you woke up after the incident she had been nothing but a caring parent, always worried about your wellbeing and willing to give you everything you asked for. A week ago you joked about getting some super expensive haute couture dress for your graduation ceremony, and the next evening your mother invited you to her cabinet with her laptop open to show you the designers she found suitable to make you a dress. A woman like her just wasn’t build for murdering others.

The man snorted, “I can show it to you, actually.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” You whispered, your other hand now clenching the gun, too. “If you won’t leave, I will shoot you, and no jury would convict me after they found out you cut off Iriya’s head.”

“I wouldn’t be violent if I could neutralize her any other way, but Iriya had accepted her vampire nature a long time ago. Alice, on the other hand, ended her own life. I didn’t do anything to her; it was her own choice.”

“It’s a lie! If she really hated us all for being vampires, why didn’t she do anything? She had a gun, she could shoot us!” Desperate, you yelled at the man seemingly unfazed by your behavior and waiting calmly when you’d get back to your senses - if it was possible in a situation like this, your sister’s body long cold on the floor.

“I bet she wanted to, but, you see, Stockholm syndrome is a funny thing. After 5 years in the family she grew to love her mother and sister, this always happens at one point or the other. I think she probably loved and pitied you, too, since she couldn’t prevent her mother biting you.” There was no pity in his voice, but you could see something compassionate in the way he looked at you, a girl who had no idea who she had become or who she was before that, getting mixed up with dangerous creatures feeding off humans like cattle. “Bet she was scared of the mother, too. But when the opportunity presented itself, she decided it was enough and shoot herself before I came for her head.”

His words were scaring you because it was all making sense now: her addiction to alcohol mother could do nothing about even with all her money; that attitude of hers as Alice had always been unhappy and never agreed to anyone; her constant desire to be left alone and locking herself in her room...

“But why would mother bite us in the first place? What would she need daughters for?” Getting overprotective to prove all this wasn’t true, you asked him.

“All ancient vampires like your mother were human once. They have the need to reproduce as much as we do, but what they don’t have is a physical ability. So, at one point they want to adopt a human and turn them into a vampire, raising them like their own. I’d find it sweet if only they weren’t making more blood-sucking bastards killing people.”

“I DON’T KILL PEOPLE!”

Your deafening scream could probably be heard even in the garden, but you didn’t care, your aching hands gripping the revolver with 5 more bullets in it. You had done nothing wrong in your entire life! You didn’t hurt anyone! You didn’t break into someone’s house to cut off people’s heads! You were just a girl who had now have to live on her own after all your family was brutally murdered by some lunatic thinking you were vampires. It was him who was a true criminal, not you!

“Sorry, little one. I know you don’t, but it doesn’t change the fact you will have to sustain on human’s blood, and then I will have to take care of yo-”

Unable to listen to him anymore, you moved your hand a bit to the left, and the revolver fired, bullet getting into the wooden drawer, a poster with Alice’s favorite rock band hanging on it. “Just move once more and I’ll shoot you. I swear I’ll shoot you! Get out and leave me alone!”

But before you had time to react, the man had disappeared from your sight, and the next second you felt his hot hand on your throat, the other one forcefully taking a gun out of your arms as you screamed, crying and shaking beneath the stranger who felt even heavier on top of you than he looked. Why was this all happening to you? What have you done? Would he cut off your head just like Iriya’s?

“Mama! Mama!” You shouted, crying, his grip suffocating you. Knowing he would have no issues murdering you, you had nothing better but to plead for your mother’s help even though she had been most likely dead. “Mama, p-please... argh... hh... mama...”

If you could look into his face, tears not blurring your vision, you’d see Steve’s expression distorted with what seemed like guilt or maybe empathy when he was slowly, but surely making you lose consciousness, his knife laying on the floor far from you. Did you think he got pleasure from murdering little girls like you? Well, he might have been happy while killing the creature calling yourself your mother, but not the daughters, never the daughters.

You had finally fainted, your body now close to your sister’s. Unlike her, you were still alive, and watching your lay beneath him, unarmed and harmless in that nightgown covered in blood of your beloved ones, Steve thought he may have leave you alive - you really were new to the family, it couldn’t be more than 3 months since you had been bitten. Maybe there was something he could still do. He heard Tony found a way to stop the turning mid-way.

Anyway, keeping a pretty girl like you didn’t seem too bad. You certainly wouldn’t like waking up in his lair, but it was still better than ending up with your head cut off, wasn’t it?

Grabbing your revolver with a couple of silver bullets, Steve showed it into his pocket and carefully lifted you up, his knife in its sheath. Carrying you like a bride, both him and you drenched in blood, the man quickly disappeared in the corridor, heading to the dungeon beneath your mansion. His job was done.

_________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @illyrianprincess @caffiend-queen @ninefuckingoneone

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #yandere #mcu #requests #mcu fanfiction

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blonde-in-charge · 4 years ago

Text

Wildcard, Chapter Four

Summary: Steve Rogers found you on the side of the road after a mission involving Hydra and convinced the Avengers to take you in. You have no name, no memories, and no idea of what you are capable of. All you know is that you are a super soldier with more hidden abilities than you care to admit. The first step to finding answers was to train you. Nobody, including you, knows what is up your sleeve. (Slowburn)

Characters: Bucky x reader, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Random Hydra guy

Warnings: Fluffy!Bucky, Flirting, bed sharing

Words: 2.5k

The ride to the safehouse was relatively quiet besides the sounds of the road outside of the vehicle you were in. The drive took about 2 hours, and you had no idea where you were. By the time the agents had dropped you off, the sun had started to rise over the small cabin. The SUV that had dropped you off, drove away quietly behind you, while you and Bucky looked at the small house. You looked at each other and then raced inside. You were ahead of Bucky, trying to get to the bed first but he grabbed you around the waist and spun you around with him as you squealed out. He set you down and you pushed him aside to open the bedroom door. Bucky tried to grab hold of the shirt you were wearing but was just short as you threw yourself onto the bed. You rolled over. Your hair sticking up in every direction as you grinned triumphantly. Your face was heated from the small workout racing the soldier provided.

Bucky groaned as he walked back into the living room to fall backwards onto the couch, “How am I supposed to sleep on this thing?”

You laughed from the other room before walking out and joining him on the old couch, plopping down with a sigh, your thigh resting against his. The last twelve hours has been the most Bucky has ever spoken to or even touched you. You were still processing the way he held you while you slept. That was the first time (that you remembered) you had been held like that. You sighed softly at thought and Bucky turned his head to look at you.

“Everything alright?” He asked and you nodded your head, not looking at him. You knew you were easy to read and you were afraid if you looked into those steel eyes, your fears would come true. You have always had a soft spot for the soldier, you never truly realized what it meant until now. You haven't let yourself really have feelings after your rescue, you wanted to be the easiest to work with. You haven't even cried since you had been found, now when you were around Bucky, your stomach would do flips and you barely even knew the man. You knew what he had been through and how he took his coffee, but who was Bucky Barnes?

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” You asked him, staring up at the ceiling.

He studied you with his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, “I think I always knew I would become a soldier when I was younger.” You smiled at the thought of a baby Bucky running around with toy guns, so innocent. “Did you always want to be…. An accountant?” The question made you let loose a sharp laugh. You shook your head and covered your eyes with your right hand.

“No, I decided I wanted to become an accountant senior year of high school.” You smiled slightly at the foggy memory, “I had always wanted to be a police officer or FBI agent. I wanted to help the world in whatever way I could.” You could feel Bucky’s eyes searing into the side of your face. You cleared your throat, “Do you remember your parents?”

The questions went back and forth for what felt like hours. You learned Bucky spent the most time around Steve's mom, he had two sisters, his favorite color was green, and he hates olives. You had told him what little you remembered of your family, about your little sister. You didn't remember their faces very well but you remembered the dynamic. You told Bucky about your random love for olives and he started dramatically gagging. Your laugh echoed through the cabin you shared with him. For the first time in eight months, you felt light. You had somehow shifted to one end of the couch and wrapped yourself in a blanket, Bucky sat on the over end with your feet in his lap. The more you talked to him, the more memories you accessed.

“Okay, okay. Who was your first girlfriend?” You asked as you stood up from the couch in search of a bottle of wine. You heard Bucky chuckle as he thought about it. You emerged from the kitchen with two glasses and a dusty old bottle of red.

You had Bucky open the bottle and pour the glasses as you returned to your spot on the couch. “I think my first girlfriend's name was Ruth?” He said squinting his eyes as if it would help him remember.

“Damn Barnes, how many girls have you been with?” You asked, taking a glass of wine off of the coffee table.

He shook his head and leaned back against the cushions, “No, it's your turn to answer now. How was your first boyfriend?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you gently slapped the hard metal of his shoulder.

You closed your eyes searching the memories that surfaced on your brain, “Josh? His name was Josh Noah, I was 16, maybe?” You drew a blank when it came to remembering faces and you didn't push yourself to. You opened your eyes and smirked, “So, you were a ladies man, huh?”

You laughed as heat rushed to his cheeks, painting his face but he didn't look ashamed. “Yeah, I got around quite a bit.” You studied his face as he searched through his thoughts. You smiled slightly wondering what a date with Bucky Barnes would be like.

You sipped at your wine and made a small face at the flavor. It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't like what you had at the tower. Bucky laughed at you and you stuck your tongue out at him in defiance. You absentmindedly reached out to touch the cold metal of his arm and he flinched away from you. You gave him an apologetic expression as you pulled your hand back, “Sorry, I should have asked first.”

“No, no. It’s okay, I haven't really had anyone touch me in a long time who wasn't trying to attack me.” The way he said it made a heat rise to the surface of your skin all over your body. You looked up into his eyes and felt your stomach start to do backflips once again. You reached your hand back out slowly and splayed your fingers against the metal forearm.

You adored the man in front of you, you knew the types of nightmares he had. You wished you could just take them away. “Bucky, you deserve all of the good things in life.” You made circles with your thumb as you spoke softly. “Your past does not define you. Your favorite color changes and so do you. You are not the bad guy anymore.” You didn't know what possessed you to say it, but you had to. Bucky just stared at you with wide eyes. You smiled softly before leaning back and taking your hand off of his arm. You brought the glass up to your lips and chased down all of the liquid in it. You frown at the uncomfortable burn in the back of your throat as you stood up from the couch and made your way to the kitchen once again. You were hungry for the first time in the last 24 hours. You looked at the clock and realized it was almost dinner time. You and Bucky had sat on the couch for hours just getting to know each other. The feeling in your chest started to rise once again but you pushed it back down to wherever it came from. You pulled the sleeves of the shirt you were wearing, his shirt, over your hands as you searched through the kitchen for ingredients. The house had been stocked with all the things you would find in the tower, you added a mental note to thank Steve for the shopping list he had created. You peeked out into the living room to see Bucky was exactly where you had left him. Oh god, you broke Bucky Barnes. You leaned against the entryway to the kitchen and cleared your throat.

“Do you have any objections to taco soup?” You asked him, crossing your arms.

He snapped out of whatever haze he was in and looked at you, “Tacos in a soup?”

“Yeah, it's actually really good. Wanna help me cook?” You gestured into the kitchen as he nodded and stood from the couch. “Hey Buck?” He looked at you and tilted his head as you spoke, “Did I say something wrong?”

He looked panicked, “No! You didn't say anything wrong I-” He sighed and ran his hand through his long hair, “I never realized how much I needed to hear that until you said it.”

You understood where he was coming from, hell you would have shut down if someone said those words to you. You nodded before turning around and disappearing into the kitchen to start the cooking. You want to eat dinner at a decent time so you better start now.

Taco soup was the poor kids dinner from college. The only real ingredient that wasn't in a can that you needed was ground beef. Everything else was in a 79 cent can. You browned the meat in the pot while Bucky went to work on opening the cans for you while you cooked, you smiled at him as he passed each one to you and you added them to the pot. You finished combining all of the ingredients and placed the lid of the pot on.

“Okay so,” You looked up at the clock on the wall and did the math in your head. “Let it boil for about 20 minutes, then we can eat.” You walked over to the fridge pulling out sour cream and shredded cheese, setting them on the counter top. You looked over at Bucky, who was eyeing the soup questionably.

“It looks like we are boiling the rust off of something.” He stood up straight and looked over his shoulder at you as you shrugged and pulled out two bowls.

“I could just let you starve, but I actually like having you around.” You shrugged and swatted him away as he poked at your side. You leaned against the counter top and watched him. The kitchen was not very big, making the space crowded between you two when you were both working around the kitchen. He came to stand next to you as you both stared at the boiling pot in silence. Your stomach growled loudly which made him chuckle. You smiled, the laugh you elicited from him made you feel like you were floating. You smiled brightly at him, watching the way his chest moved as he laughed. He looked down over at you and you realized you were staring. You averted your eyes back to the boiling pot in front of you and sighed loudly, which he dramatically copied. You grinned and shouldered his side, getting a well deserved, ooph. Bucky turned around as the minutes counted down and pulled out two bowls and spoons. You turned off the stove top and lifted the lid of the pot, taking a deep inhale of the delicious scent. You were starving, so you were quick to fill the two bowls with a ladle. You dressed your soup up with a spoonful of sour cream and half the bag of cheese, while Bucky only dressed his with a handful of the cheese. You both carried your bowls to the small round table in the corner of the kitchen. You sat in one of the small wooden chairs, sitting criss crossed as you always did when you were comfortable. You raised one spoonful of the soup to your mouth, blowing on it gently before actually tasting the contents. It was delicious, as it always was. You really enjoyed cooking, it came so naturally to you. You looked up and saw Bucky was thoroughly enjoying his soup the same way you were. You both ate in a comfortable silence until you were full. You stood up from the table and reached to grab his empty bowl.

He smacked your hand away playfully and stood with you, “Let me clean up, you did all the cooking.” He extended his hand out, waiting for you to place your empty bowl in it. You wanted to say something snarky, but you knew he genuinely wanted to help out. You lost the war in your head so you let him take your bowl away to the kitchen. You decided to change out of the clothes you were wearing and into your pajamas. There wasn't much to the cabin, it wasn't an open floor plan and it only consisted of a living room, kitchen, bedroom, and one bathroom. You knew there was a shed out back that served as a weapons vault, and you also knew the bathroom mirror that opened up into a medical supply cabinet. You maneuvered past the couch to the bedroom. You pulled Bucky’s shirt off over your head and threw it onto the corner of the room, you put your bag on the bed and rummaged through it. You pulled out an old tee shirt you knew was Steves, you pulled it over your head and worked on stripping your legs out of the leggings you wore. You wanted to remain in your underwear but you also didn't want Bucky to feel uncomfortable, so you pulled on a pair of cut off sweatpants and walked out of the room. Bucky was trying to set up the couch to be somewhat comfortable for the night. You leaned against the door frame of the room and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Hey, Buck?” You asked. He looked up and met your eyes, “Can you sleep in the bed with me tonight?”

You weren't able to read his eyes, you watched as he stood up straight and contemplated the offer. He nodded his head, “Yeah of course I will.” He stripped the couch of its blanket and walked up to you. You smiled and led him into the room, shutting the door behind him. “I just need to use the restroom, then I'll be ready.” You nodded as he dropped the blanket onto the bed and disappeared into the bathroom with his duffle bag. You slipped off your shorts and crawled into the bed. The sheets were so soft against your skin, the feeling was welcome. You fluffed up the two pillows behind you before sinking down into the bed. You turned the lamp off besides you and sighed. The bathroom door creaked open and spilled light into the room. You could see the outline of Bucky, the light clicked off and you listened to him approach. The bed dipped under his weight as he pulled back the covers. He laid beside you and covered himself up, tucking his right arm behind his head. You rolled on your side to face him.

“Goodnight, Bucky.” You said quietly to the figure next to you.

“Goodnight, doll.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel imagine

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dustofbrokenheart · 4 years ago

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The Covenant: Presents and Kisses

Reid Garwin x Reader

Word Count: 1,858

Summary: It’s reader’s birthday and Reid has some surprises up his sleeve. Dedicated to the lovely @saviorsong. Happy Birthday!

The café was a small, single room operation so sound from both the dining area and the kitchen traveled throughout. And everyone heard when your boyfriend came out of the bathroom, throwing the door open with such force that a bang rang out from where it hit the wall.

The poor barista almost dropped a drink they were making out of surprise.

“Babe, that was the biggest shit I’ve taken this month,” Reid practically shouted as he made his way back to the table.

You didn’t bother to acknowledge that particular comment and kept your attention on Tyler who had also tagged along with you guys. It was better to not entertain poop talk seeing as how you were in public.

“Babe! Did you hear what I said?”

“I think everyone did,” you replied pointedly. He dropped into his chair, hands clutching at his stomach.

You continued chatting with Tyler about a class you were taking and Reid still kept fidgeting and groaning. He was normally dramatic but he was really hamming it up.

You turned to him with a raised brow. That was all it took for him to increase his complaining.

“I think it was the food. It’s gotta be food poisoning, I feel so sick.”

“But we ate from the same plate.”

A glance at the table showed a shared plate that had long been eaten with not a drop of sauce left on the it after you both had all but cleaned the dish. If he actually had food poisoning, shouldn’t you be feeling it too? Your stomach felt perfectly fine, if not satisfied.

“Everyone reacts differently to these things, you know.”

Tyler nodded seriously, corroborating Reid’s claim. Those two were thicker than thieves, always ready to back each other up.

“No telling how bad this could get. I’m gonna head home but you should stay, Ty can hang out with you,” he said.

“Really?” Your tone was colored with incredulously. “Today of all days?”

He completely ignored that and bent down for a kiss. You were extremely tempted to turn away but ended up giving in. Reid may be an idiot, but he was your idiot. Keeping up with the sick-as-a-dog routine, he gingerly hobbled out of the café.

And since he was your idiot, you knew something was definitely up. You didn’t claim to be the smartest person around but Reid wasn’t exactly subtle.

Immediately, your attention turned towards Tyler. If one was plotting, then the other would know.

The brunette raised his hands as if to keep things peaceful. “Okay, okay. Don’t be upset.”

“It’s my birthday and my man just ran out under suspicious circumstances. I have every right to be annoyed.”

“Exactly! You’re the reason why he left!” He paused for an awkward second. “Wow. That came out totally wrong. What I mean is that he’s setting up something nice for you.”

“He is?” you asked suddenly touched.

Reid was a romantic sort. Maybe not always so smooth about it, but a romantic nonetheless. And he did do things for you often, even if a good number of things were in an attempt to apologize for something stupid he did, but he had never done a birthday surprise.

Well, not one where he had kept it a surprise for this long. Normally he couldn’t keep quiet about his plans so you were a bit impressed that you hadn’t noticed until his terrible acting just then.

Tyler nodded again, this time in excitement. “Yep. He needs a few hours to get it ready though…we can either stay here or walk around. Your birthday, your choice.”

His methods may be, well, unconventional, but your heart beat a little faster knowing he was planning something. Your mind wandered, thinking up various possibilities. Two hours couldn’t go by fast enough.

***

It ended up being close to six o’clock before you returned home.

You closed the door gently and toed your shoes off. The quietness seemed that much thicker with anticipation weighing heavily.

A trail of rose petals wound around the living room and trailed down the hallway, presumably to the bedroom, but you got distracted by a tantalizing aroma.

You followed that into the kitchen instead and found a skillet filled with something delicious. Other bowls with other fantastic side dishes were arranged randomly around it on the countertops.

And then you noticed the cake. Unlike the others, the cake was displayed on the table, a package of candles lying next to it. You walked closer to get a better view and couldn’t the grin hat spread across your face.

Clearly, he had made the cake himself. Not that that was off-putting to you in any way. It was really quite cute.

He had made a small two-layer cake which in of itself didn’t look too bad. The sides were not traditionally frosted so, the parts that were visible, you could see that the shape and the softness looked about right. Kind of.

In lieu of normal frosting, he had attempted to coat them with a crumb frosting of some sort. Despite his best effort, the crumbs didn’t hadn’t spread evenly with some parts having barely any and others having too much.

It looked like he also had issues with the frosting on top. You guessed that he had tried to apply it while the cake was still warm because it was thinner than it should have been, almost glaze-like. Some had even started to leak over the sides before it was cool enough to harden up again.

Even with flaws, it was still the sweetest, frumpiest birthday cake you could ever remember someone making for you.

You stuck out a finger trying to taste the crumb coat when you felt a sharp smack to your ass.

“Oww!” Rubbing it, you saw Reid standing behind you with a towel in his hand. “Did you really just spank me with a towel?”

“It’s not time for cake yet,” he said. He was shirtless, tattoos on display, baggy cargo pants riding low on his hips. There was a hint of tiredness in his eyes but it was mostly irritation. “This part was for last. You were supposed to follow the roses first.”

Ah. He was irritated that you messed up the plan. But you were so excited to see what else he had in store that you didn’t answer back with a sharp quip of your own. “Then lead the way.”

With a sigh, he put his hands on your shoulders and walked you out of the kitchen. His grip was gentle though so you knew he wasn’t seriously frustrated with you.

The path of rose petals came back into view and you realized they were from a real flower and not plastic. A warm feeling spread through you and it only grew the closer the closer the path drew you to the bedroom. Reid stayed just behind you the whole way, your gentle guide.

“The flowers are beautiful, Reid.”

“I know. And a normal person would’ve followed them from the start.”

“Sorry,” you giggled. “The food all looked really good though. Three Michelin stars across the board.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just open the door, would ya?”

You pushed the door with your fingers, thoughts racing. What were you going to find? That fancy stationary set you’d been eyeing online? A fluffy, tail-wagging puppy? A chest of kinky toys?

With Reid it could any one of the three. Maybe even all three.

Tons of balloons were inflated and rolling around the floor, so much so that you had to kick a few out of the way to be able to step in. Even a birthday banner hung over the bed when he had thumbtacked it into the wall.

But the gift was unmistakable.

The large woven basket was sitting on the dresser, fibers dyed your favorite color was hard to miss.

Then came the stuff that was practically overflowing from said basket. You rummaged through it like a old woman at a yard sale, pulling out something new with every handful.

Jewelry. A soft blanket. Cans of your favorite type of drink. Hand painted ceramics. Some hard cover additions you’d been meaning to add to your personal library. New head phones. Dozens of origami creatures. A tee from your favorite team. Coffee mugs and several blends of beans. Hand-held tools to replace your old ones with. And not only a stationary set but a wax letter stamp seal as well.

And everything from the basket to the last gift followed the same theme: it was all in your favorite color.

You jumped into his arms and he caught you. “I’m—this is…this is…”

“What?” he said, his breath tickling your ear and fingers gripping your thighs tightly. “Impressive? Inspiring? The best goddamn gift you’ve ever seen?”

“Touching,” you whispered.

You couldn’t see it, but you could sense the soft expression on his face.

“How did you even manage to find some of this stuff in this color?”

“It wasn’t easy, let me tell you…”

He went on explaining how he started with the just the stationary (you were right and he had noticed you looking at it) in your favorite color.

Then he added the headphones, also in your favorite color.

Then he’d painted the ceramic pieces himself.

Eventually thinking up even more potential presents to get, he’d come up with the idea to do everything in that color. The tools were the hardest but he was very proud that he’d been able to pull it off with the help of a custom order from a local business.

“This is super touching. Thanks for putting in this much thought and effort,” you said finally lifting your head up to give him a kiss.

It was meant to be a quick peck but Reid’s lips followed yours when you tried to pull back, turning it into something more passionate. He even managed to lick his way into your mouth before you finally parted, panting for air.

“Mmm,” he breathed, lips back on yours. “You’re eager to get to the next event.”

You made a confused sound in your throat which he swallowed. One of his hands traveled up your leg and over your hip to come to a rest on your lower back. He turned you and that’s when you noticed the bed.

The comforter was already pulled slightly down and more rose petals were scattered all around. He laid you down on the mattress and prowled up your body. The petals were even more fragrant now that you were closer to them.

“What’s the next event?” you asked coyly although it wasn’t hard to guess.

“One kiss for every year you’ve been alive,” he said with a cocked smile. “It was either that many kisses or that many orgasms—I figured all those orgasms might be too much for you though.”

You bit his bottom lip and snuck your fingers under the waistband of his cargo pants suggestively. “How about both?”

He watched in rapture as you removed your shirt, eyes glued to your chest.

“Anything for you, babe. Happy Birthday.”

_______________

Yay! Thanks for reading. I hope this was alright.

In my mind, Reid is the type of romantic to make you things, hence the food, origami, and ceramics. But sensual time will also be included just because.

Honestly, he probably heard what Caleb did for his s/o and, in typical competitive fashion, decided he could do better. He roped in Tyler to keep reader distracted and spent a few hours cooking, decorating, and assembling the massive personalized gift basket.

They likely did reach fulfill the birthday kiss count but how many orgasms they managed to achieve is up to your imagination.

#the covenant #reid garwin #reid garwin x reader #the covenant imagines

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mrs-harkness · 4 years ago

Text

Ocean Eyes (Part 1)

Pairing: Tammy x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Taglist: @peggycarter-steverogers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow

A/n: Hey guys. Sorry for the wait. Life has been so busy as I just became a certified therapist and just life stuff in general. This is just going to be a mini fic for fun while I work on writing my next big one- which will be for Cordelia! Literally nothing like Run to Me, so I hope you don’t find it disappointing. Just a little filler while I work out the plot for my next story!

You pulled out your phone, checking the time. 1:53 PM. Your interview was at 2 o'clock and if you didn't figure out where you were quickly, you were going to be late. You walked faster, panic dialing your best friend who had gotten you the interview.

"Hello?" the sweet voice chimed on the other end.

"Sarah! Help! I'm lost," you pleaded, looking at the address on the piece of paper in your hand and trying to match it to the towering houses around you.

"How did you get lost? I gave you the exact address. Did the driver put it in wrong?"

"No. I made the Uber drop me off at the entrance to the neighborhood because his car looked super sketch and I didn't want the mom to see me step out of a car that looks like it was used in a 70's porn film. I started walking and I got lost."

You heard Sarah shuffling around in the background, and what sounded like the tapping of keys.

"Okay, give me the address for the closest house," she said. Your best friend was a life saver.

"Uhhh... 768 Elm Street," you told her, trying not to look suspicious in this wealthy neighborhood.

"Hmmm. Okay you're literally two streets over. If you go to the end of this street, take a right and walk less than two blocks. You'll make it to maple from there. You somehow managed to be right behind her house. It will take you about ten minutes."

Shit.

"No! There has got to be a quicker way! I am going to be late!" You whined, stomping your feet on the sidewalk in frustration.

"Yeah, Tammy is not going to like that. She is very patient but she's got three kids so she really only has enough patience for them. Well wait, hang on a second."

"What? Did you find a quicker route?"

"Sorta. You should have just stayed in the Uber."

"Sarah I did not want to pull up like Will Smith from the Fresh Prince of Belaire, now spit it out already!"

"Well that house you are standing in front of? Technically if you could find a way into their backyard and through the trees... you could get to Tammy's house in half the time."

You looked at the house in front of you. It looked more like a post office than a home. Large marble columns, real gas lamps framing a shiny oak door, and a second floor balcony that seemed larger than Sarah's whole apartment. This is not the type of property you just meandered around on, but this job was also not the type of opportunity you just let slip away by being two minutes late.

You walked a little to the side of the house, and there you found your favorite thing of the whole house: A gate to the backyard.

"I'm gonna do it," you say to Sarah, who had been quiet this entire time.

There was more silence, before you heard your best friend draw in a breath.

"Don't get arrested please. Call me when you're done, or in lock up. Either way, be safe."

Sarah had always been someone who just supported and loved you no matter what. Whether it was moving on a whim to another city and crashing on her couch indefinitely or trespassing through a rich family's yard to get the job that would help you get started on your dreams. She was that type of friend and you loved her for it.

You didn't even say goodbye as you hung up and checked the time again. 1:55 PM mocked you on the screen. You shoved the phone in your pocket before quickly looking around. No one was out and about thankfully probably due to the heat picking up, so you walked briskly over to the gate.

You said a prayer and begged the universe to be kind to you under your breath as you forced yourself to find the courage and flung open the lock to the gate, letting it swing open. You looked around the yard really quickly to find it empty as well. Maybe this wouldn't be hard at all.

You closed the gate behind you and you quickly jogged into the yard. There was a picnic table close to the other side of the fence and you would be able to hop right over! You breathed a sigh of relief because everything was going to plan, until the dog.

A ear piecing yap began sounding through the yard like an obnoxious security alarm. You turned and saw that the back of the home was basically one big window and there inside was the ugliest looking purse dog you had ever seen, notifying every living creature with working ears within a mile of your presence.

You watched horrified as the owner of said ugly dog appeared in the view of the window like some horror movie on a tv screen. An older woman, dressed as if she had been in the middle of a workout, was also now yapping at you angrily and making her way to her giant window wall.

Your feet started moving before you realized what was happening and you bolted to the back of the yard and onto the picnic table, jumping and throwing one of your legs over the fence. The little old woman made it to a sliding glass door, releasing her dog and profanities towards you.

The dog tore across the lawn, but thankfully was no actual threat. You looked at the woman as you threw your other leg over the fence.

"I'm not a criminal! I'm sorry! I just got lost on the way to a job interview. You have a nice home!" you yelled, trying to prove to this stranger you were not bad, just had poor execution of your ideas. You dropped over the other side of the fence and into the wooded area behind the home, running as fast as your feet could carry you from the angry woman and her angrier dog.

It only took you about a minute of running full force to make it to another fence, a fence you were praying was Tammy's. You ran around the length of it, following it to the front of the house. You shakily pulled out the paper from your pocket and checked the address. You had made it. This was the house. You laughed, more relieved than anything, and jogged to the front door.

You knocked and weren't even able to take a full breath before the door opened.

There before you stood the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on. Her hair was the color of sand on the beaches of heaven its self and her eyes looked like brownies fresh from the over, and you had the strange thought of wanting to burn your mouth on them.

Y/n, that's weird. Stop it.

You stared at her, trying not to look to heavily at her gorgeous smile at the fear she may think you were looking at her lips. Even though you kind of were. You forced yourself to smile back.

"You must be Y/n," she said, looking at her watch, "and you are right on time. Let it be known I find that super attractive."

You chuckle nervously, unable to process a coherent thought. You really just hoped she couldn't tell you had just ran through the woods to stand stupid on her doorstep. Thankfully it didn't seem like she did and stepped aside, letting you in.

The home was gorgeous and lavish, but also homey and seemed lived in. You could hear the distant laughter of children somewhere in the house and portraits of what you could only assume were those children hung on the walls. You did notice though that there was a lack of family portraits probably due to the husband no longer being in the picture.

Sarah had filled you in a little bit about the family situation. She had worked with them over the summer and was working for them when they filed for divorce. Supposedly neither of them seemed upset by it, but he had still decided to move into another town. Tammy supposedly worked a very busy job and with three rambunctious kids, help was needed. Sarah had helped them occasionally, but Tammy needed something more permanent and hopefully that's where you would come in.

You followed Tammy into a big open kitchen and sat down with her at the kitchen table.

"Can I offer you some tea or water?" she said sweetly.

Even though you were parched from the mini marathon you had just ran, you politely declined. You pulled your resume out of your bag and put it on the table. Tammy reached over and took it, looking at it before smiling back up at you.

"I know Sarah said you had just moved here, so what brought you to town?" Tammy asked.

You hoped the look of confusion was not obvious on your face because you were expecting only questions about the job. You were unsure how useful you would be talking about yourself right now.

"Uh, well I came to town for a fresh start, and with Sarah here, it just seemed like the best place to restart."

"Running from something?" Tammy asked, putting down the resume and taking a sip of something in a mug that had been sitting on the table.

"N-no ma'am. Nothing illegal. I am not a criminal. I told the old lady the same thing," you stuttered.

Tammy raised her eyebrow at the last part, but you kept going to breeze over it hopefully.

"I just- I got my heartbroken and got kicked out of the apartment we shared. I didn't feel like I was making anything of my life where I was and I have such big dreams, but all I found there was pain and complacency, so I came here in hope to change that."

You voice sounded small and you ringed your hands in your lap, nervous that you may have said too much. Tammy's face softened even more somehow though and she smiled at you over the edge of her mug. She stared at you for a moment, her eyes seeming to sparkle. She nodded and looked down at your resume again.

"Well, you certainly have quite an impressive track record here. You seem like a kid expert. And because I already did a background check on you, I feel comfortable saying, if you would like the job its yours."

You sat there at the table, now not trying to hide the stunned look on your face. You had a harder time getting over the fence than getting employed by this woman.

"That's it? You don't need to ask me anything else? You're giving me the job?" you ask, stumbling over your words.

Tammy laughs and it feels like butterflies flutter in your belly. You like to make her laugh, but you aren't sure if she think's you're funny or stupid.

"With my life and my job, Y/n, the thing that is most important to me is being able to trust you. With my kids, my day to day life, and if I need your help with something. Trust and honesty go a long way with me, and you proved that with one question," she said, coming over to you with a glass of water.

You took it with a smile, forcing yourself to take a slow slip.

"Well, you can definitely trust me. And I'd be honored to by your nanny," you say, excitement and nervousness flowering inside your chest.

Tammy smiles sweetly at you.

"Consider yourself part of the family Y/n. Now you do know this is a live in position right? Sarah told you that?"

You nodded, that having been one of the main reasons you wanted the job. As much as you loved Sarah, you did not love sleeping on her couch. Being a live in nanny presented its own set of challenges, but it wouldn't be forever.

"Good. Can you move in today?"

You choked on your water, coughing and spitting it all over your shirt. Tammy laughed at you, and your cheeks burned red. Now you were embarrassed and Tammy sensed that.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to shock you. I just really need your help around here as soon as possible. And it would be better if you just came on in and got to know me and the kids since you're going to be a big part of our lives."

She handed you a paper towel, looking down at you with a comforting expression. Your cheeks burned red again, but not from embarrassment. You looked away and cleared your throat, unsure why you were so flustered.

"Sure. Yeah, no problem. I just need to run home and grab my clothes and things, but I don't have any furniture so-"

"Oh don't worry. You'll have the whole attic. Its renovated and fully furnished and you'll have your own bathroom. You don't need to worry about buying anything."

That was a relief. It would have taken you a while to afford those things.

You got up and walked with Tammy to the front door, her opening it for you.

"Thank you Ms. Tammy for hiring me, you will not regret it. I will take good care of your kids and make your life as easy as I possibly can," you say, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, attempting to look confident and wanting to ensure Tammy she had made the right choice.

She chuckled again, putting a little hole in that confidence, but it was quickly repaired when she wrapped her arms around you. It shocked you and you stood there, frozen for a second before hugging her back.

"I know you will. You're going to be a wonderful addition to our lives, all of our lives," she said. Her voice had a hint of something in it, making it seem like silk, but then you felt her pulling on your hair a bit and you felt like your legs may fall out from under you. Who was this woman?

Before you could assume anything further though, she pulled back and revealed she had taken a small branch with green leaves from your hair. You laughed nervously. Tammy cocked an eyebrow at you and smiled cheekily, holding it up.

"That is a funny story... I can explain that. I promise I bathe."

It was Tammy who laughed this time thankfully. She nodded and played with the branch in between her long, manicured fingers.

"That's alright. You can tell me about it tonight over drinks once you are home. I'd like to get to know you better while we get you settled."

Something about the way she said it made your breath catch in your throat. She smiled at you and you two said your goodbyes. You would text her when you were on the way back home. How strange that felt.

You sat in a much cleaner Uber on the way back to Sarah's, your head pressed against the glass. You couldn't stop thinking about Tammy and it seemed like you also couldn't wipe the smile from your face either. It seemed almost like a dream.

Just then, your phone buzzed and you were pulled from the thoughts of the woman to see that her name was on your screen. You quickly held the phone up to unlock it, suddenly overcome with the need of answering her at a moments notice. Thankfully it was not a message of her changing her mind.

Btw, just call me Tammy. Ms. Tammy is a little formal ;)

You smiled and bit your lip, quickly responding.

Okay, Tammy :)

#oceans 8 #tammy #tammy oceans 8 #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson #sarah paulson fanfic #sarah paulson fic #mini fic

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jimlingss · 4 years ago

Note

hi!! for the requests, could I suggest hoseok, fluff, fake dating au, and the sentence 'I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.' thank you!

↳ Humdrum Amore

2.7k || 100% Fluff || Jung Hoseok

“I never thought I’d come back here one day.”

You stare at the brown building that you once dreaded. The same structure that you had to drag your feet into every morning five days a week after your dad dropped you off. But instead of feeling apprehension, there’s a sense of prickling nostalgia while you look at the building.

“Same.” The man beside you exhales, staring at the green field, the brown doors and small windows covered by blinds. “But it’s not all that bad, right?”

You turn to Hoseok who looks sharp in his simple suit and tie ensemble. You’ve seen him in the same clothes plenty of times, but while you’re wearing your red dress and you’re lingering in front of the school, it feels like the two of you have returned to being awkward eighteen year olds nervously going to prom together as friends.

But Hoseok eases you. “Come on.”

He takes your hand, a gesture you still aren’t used to, and tugs you inside.

The moment the doors are open, you follow the signs leading to the gymnasium and you’re met with a table of refreshments and goody bags. But more importantly, there are people already mingling in all corners. Some are wandering while most have gathered into groups to reminisce. There are those that you recognize and those whose faces have long faded in your memories.

High school. A time of pubescent years, of growing up and trying to prove yourselves while figuring out your future. You have mixed feelings about that time. All you know is that you’re glad it’s over.

“Y/N?” There’s a higher pitched voice to the left and you turn to see Tiffany approaching with a wide smile. “Hoseok?! Oh my god, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you guys! How are you?”

You hug her for a second. “It’s good. You?”

“Yeah.” She exhales as if she can’t believe you’re together again and you admit, it is surreal. There was definitely a difference from glancing at someone’s post, status and updates on social media and seeing them in person. “It’s been great. I didn’t know if you were coming to this reunion or not.”

You smile, glancing at Hoseok. He was right about coming. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Someone walks by with a tray of cheap champagne and all three of you take a glass, thanking the waiter. Tiffany sips her drink and gets down to the nitty-gritty. “So tell me, what do you do now?”

You brace yourself, knowing this was coming. “I’m working as an embryologist at a fertility lab.”

“That’s so cool!” Her eyes widen and she genuinely appears fascinated. “It sounds super fancy.”

You laugh, concealing the note of awkwardness in your voice. Tiffany doesn’t know that it sounds much better than it actually is. It’s an entire step down from being a family doctor, an occupation which you once said was your dream. And she has no clue that you’re struggling under your strict manager, that you just received a cut in pay and your hours are strenuous.

But you don’t dare show your exhaustion. Or your discontentment.

You keep flashing a bright smile.

Everyone in high school expected you to do great, that you would go somewhere, do something. You were the smart one. The hard-working one. There’s always been a certain burden of expectations on your shoulders from your parents to your teachers, and perhaps that’s where the need to prove yourself to your former peers stems. If they knew how mundane and regular and normal you turned out — instead of being the successful achiever — you’re sure their disappointment would have a bigger effect on you more than you’d ever admit.

And maybe that’s why Hoseok offered to pretend to be your partner for the night after you grieved about not being with anyone, when you struggled to find a plus one. He knows you best after all.

“What are you doing?” you ask Tiffany, and she hesitates, looking down at her drink for a second.

“Actually, I’m in-between jobs at the moment.” She musters a smile. “The economy sucks right now.”

You sympathize. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s hard to find a job these days.”

Tiffany turns to Hoseok and when she asks what he’s been up to, he says, “Nothing much. I’m working in IT as a development manager for this company.”

“Oh, that’s super cool too!” She’s about to ask something, but then her eyes incidentally stray downwards. You follow her line of sight, realizing that she’s looking at the way you’re holding hands with Hoseok.

“We’re...actually dating now,” you explain.

Instantaneously, Tiffany brightens. “You guys started dating after high school? When?!”

You laugh awkwardly. “Two...three years ago?” It doesn’t sound terribly convincing, so you try a second time, standing your ground. “Two, I think.” It falls a bit short, but she doesn’t notice.

No. Tiffany absolutely gushes. “That’s so cute! Oh my god! I always thought you’d both be good together!”

That has you taken aback. The relief of getting away with your lie and not being caught gets overtaken by surprise. “Really?”

“Well yeah. You were always close friends and everyone,” she emphasizes the word by drawing it out, “knew Hoseok had a huge crush on you.”

This was news to you.

But Hoseok outright ignores your stare in favour of smiling at your old friend and holding up your interlaced hands by your heads as if it’s a trophy. “Well, looks like I got the girl in the end.”

“Are you gonna propose any time soon then?”

There’s a glint of mischief in Hoseok’s eye. “Maybe.”

He’s way too good at lying. You’re starting to get convinced this is real.

“Aw, I wish I was at this honeymoon stage again. Everything’s so sweet and cute.”

Speaking of which. “Where’s Nick?” you ask.

Tiffany deflates slightly at the question and you wonder if you said something wrong. You don’t understand until she says, “Oh….yeah...we decided to split up a few months ago.”

“Really?” You would’ve never expected it. From what you remember, they were one of the few high school sweethearts that actually made it in the long run, a couple that you used to be jealous of at sixteen. They ended up getting married too and you saw pictures of them traveling together a year ago. Who knew what her life was actually like behind the scenes. “I’m...so sorry, Tiffany.”

“It’s alright. Life happens, I guess, but it all worked out in the end and we both have joined custody of Sunny. It gets messy sometimes but as long as she’s happy, I am too.” She smiles softly and then nods. “Well, it was really nice to catch up with you two. I’m happy to hear you’re going out. Better put a ring on this one before you lose her, Jung.”

“I will,” he promises.

Tiffany leaves to catch up with a girl she knew from choir, so you both bid your goodbyes. But somehow, the conversation leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

After greeting a few more old friends and acquaintances, you leave to the hallway.

The nostalgia slams into you, stronger than before. If you stare long enough, you can picture the hall crammed with your classmates, how you ran from class to class, sat in the desks, bored out of your mind and at times, stressed. The walls and rooms hold so many of your memories without them knowing. And that in itself makes you feel old and gray, even though you aren’t.

Not yet, at least. Hoseok always reassures you that you have another good thirty years before you’re allowed to call yourself old.

Said man glances at your expression and reads it like an open book. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You sigh. “It’s just….I don’t know. I was trying to save face this entire time and I even went as far as to lie about our relationship.”

“You didn’t do it alone. I lied too.”

“Yeah, but I wanted this.” You shake your head, slowly rounding a corner and making your way down what you remember as the science corridor. “People probably have more going on with themselves than to care what I’m up to. I don’t know why I was so scared about what they would think about me.”

The corner of his mouth curls, and he nudges you with his elbow. “It’s high school.”

You lightly scoff but a smile tickles at your lips. “I just feel bad. Tiffany was so honest about herself, and she wasn’t ashamed about how her life turned out, not like I am.”

“No one turned out how they expected themselves to,” he hums in a thoughtful tone while glancing at the bulletin board tacked with handmade flyers for clubs. “It’s okay if you didn’t end saving the planet or finding the cure to cancer.”

You snort and soften. “Yeah.”

Hoseok always knows what to say to make you feel better.

“Look!” The peaceful moment is interrupted by the sheer volume of his voice. He points down the hall. “Our old lockers!”

You laugh, quickening your steps with his. The lockers are not technically yours anymore, they haven’t been for a long time and have probably been through tens of students since. Even right now, there are unfamiliar locks that keep them closed. But you still remember which one was yours.

You stand in front of it and Hoseok stands in front of his which is only three lockers down from yours.

The pair of you look at one another, exchanging grins. “Remember when I kept your math textbook for you since you were too lazy to put it away and we had to toss it to each other every morning?”

“Yeah. I never missed once.” He laughs and it’s a bubbly sound that’s exactly the same as back then. “Remember that time Taehyung stuffed himself inside my locker and we locked him in?”

You burst out laughing. “We almost got into trouble by Mr. Min!”

“Yep. That old man was always trying to pick on kids.”

“Except for that time Jimin launched that cake across the hall and it landed on some poor girl. He was nowhere to be found.”

Hoseok grins and comes over to lean on the blue locker next to yours, crossing his arms like he’s waiting for you before you’re late for the bell.

A sentimental feeling that is both wistful and happy washes you over again. You can recall those years as if they were yesterday. Namely, Hoseok would always be there when you closed your locker door, in the exact same position, staring at you with that identical warm expression. You don’t know a lot of your old high school friends anymore, don’t know what they’re doing or if they’ll come. It’s a natural progression of life, of going different paths and naturally drifting apart.

But Hoseok has always been your side. Since then till now.

“So.” You turn to him. “What’s this about everyone knowing you had a crush on me?”

Hoseok goes wide-eyed and says nothing for a moment. Then he scratches the back of his neck. “Just stupid kid stuff.”

You raise a brow and hum. “Didn’t sound like stupid kid stuff. How long did you even like me for?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I’m curious.” You shrug. “I never heard about this before.”

Hoseok is embarrassed, that much is obvious. You can tell by the way he’s brushing around the subject, not looking you in the eyes, how much he’s hesitating. It’s not like him and that makes you even more intrigued. “A while.”

Maybe you shouldn’t push him so much when he doesn’t want to talk about it. But for some reason, there’s a burning desire inside of you to know. After all, you thought you knew all of your best friend’s secrets.

“What’s a while?”

“Like sixth grade?”

Your jaw drops. “So when we met?”

“Yeah..?” Hoseok seems unsure and he’s staring at the other wall as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. There’s nothing but a dirty shoe print on it. “Something like that.”

Now it’s your turn to be perplexed. Although, for an entirely different kind of reason. “But why?”

He turns his head, as if sensing you’re about to self-deprecate yourself. “You’re funny and smart and pretty, Y/N. Everyone liked you,” Hoseok explains it as if it’s factual and your cheeks grow warm.

You suck in your cheek, fiddling with the fabric of your dress. “Then why didn’t you ever tell me you liked me?”

“I was awkward and I was too scared you’d reject me,” he exhales and you glance at him to find an unreadable expression. Perhaps he’s uncomfortable at the idea now that he’s grown out of it and he knows you too well. Or maybe...just maybe...he’s filled with regret.

You shake off the thought before your imagination runs wild.

You’re about to drop the subject once and for all, but as you turn away, the quiet mutter slips from your mouth, “I wouldn’t have.”

Hoseok catches it.

He freezes completely and when you realize he’s not following you back to the gymnasium, you turn around. “Earth to Hoseok. What’s wrong?”

“What about now?”

“What?”

His expression is blank aside from the slight furrow of his brow. It’s not often Hoseok’s entirely serious and you’re caught off guard by his demeanour. He closes the distance in three strides and asks, “If I asked you out now, if I said I wanted to date you for real, would you reject me?”

His gaze is dark. Intense. As if he’s mustered up the courage he’s built for years for this very moment.

Your mouth opens, eyes unable to look away from him and your voice pipes out a timid— “no.”

In an instant, Hoseok’s mouth is on yours. Your back slams against the lockers as he cradles your cheeks in his palms, tilting his head to capture your lips carefully yet eagerly. You whine in his grasps and quickly reciprocate, moving your mouth against his. It’s soft, warm and comforting. Hoseok has always been comforting to you. A slow burn rather than a bursting firework that eventually fades away. A warm bonfire that’s built from the first spark rather than a forest wildfire that ultimately burns out after consuming everything.

You’ve always loved him. But perhaps it wasn’t always purely platonic like you thought. At least not until tonight where that’s been challenged.

Hoseok's body is firm and warm against yours. His knee is placed between your thighs and you loop your arms around his neck to get him even closer. Your senses are filled with his cologne, the lingering scent of his shaving cream and shampoo. Hoseok tastes like the champagne he drank and you’re beginning to feel dizzy from it. That or you’re running out of breath.

You whimper rather pathetically, but he doesn’t let up. Not until you push at his shoulder and he has to gather his self-restraint to part from you.

You’re left panting heavily against him, lips swollen and Hoseok exhales before laughing. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

You grin. “Always?”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Practically.”

Never would you have thought Hoseok would kiss you against your lockers. It’s another memory you’re making in these walls even after years of graduating. But you’d like a second time to make up for all the others, so you start to tug Hoseok’s tie to get him closer again—

“Hey!”

There’s an ear-splitting shout and the two of you flinch, whirling around to the end of the hall.

“You’re supposed to be in the gymnasium!” Old man Mr. Min is bumbling towards you with a cane, his voice surprisingly still full of power even when he looks like a sack of bones.

“Sorry!” You duck your head and before he can catch you, your hand entwines with Hoseok’s. The two of you dash down the hall as if you were still trouble-making high-schoolers.

Hoseok mutters in complete shock, “He’s still alive?!”

And you laugh, squeezing his hand just a bit tighter.

You return to the reunion and your heart is a bit lighter knowing this time, you don’t have to lie.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #hoseok fanfic #hoseok scenario #hoseok fluff #hoseok reader insert #hoseok x reader #Jimlings #Anonymous

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