#to be apart of a group and to have a title and position inside of a group and of power and even a desire like from pete to join one iirc

[cent-scratchnsniff]

something bad did indeed happen to that man. spent abt 25 minutes trying to find a better picture of that one (1) offical piece with his eyes open that wasnt compressed or tiny

[eddiediaaz]

Hi, me again!

Ty for the reply, I would love an in depth tutorial if you don't mind as i really wanna get this effect to work and I kinda work best when it's spelt out for me when learning new techniques lol :)

hey anon, no worries! here's how i used this amazing template by @danesdehaan and added a rolling effect like this (from this gifset):

this effect uses photoshop's timeline. i use cs5, for reference.

detailed tutorial under the cut :)

I. PREPARING THE TEXT

when you open the template, you should have a group called "songs" with 3 groups for each song. what you wanna do is duplicate these numbered groups until you have the amount of songs you want. for each group, use the move tool or your keyboard's arrows to move the duplicated song text layers/groups on your canvas so they're under the first three that are already there. make sure these new duplicated layers are in the "songs" group.

then type the numbers, song titles, artists, song durations, etc. it should look like that:

i wanted mine to have a smaller gap in between each song, so i used the arrows to move each song group closer together, and it looks like that before the animation:

II. ANIMATED EFFECT

once you have typed everything, make sure there are no mistakes and that you won't need to edit anything about the songs or durations or anything like that, because you won't be able to go back. when that's done, select all of the numbered song groups and right click > Merge Layers.

that will give you one layer with all of the songs together. i've renamed mine "SIX SONGS". make sure this new merged layer is still in the "songs" group.

once that's done, you're ready for the animation. and it's pretty easy, because you only need two keyframes: one at the start of the gif, and one at the end.

go to the start of your gif on the timeline, and toggle the position keyframe animation by clicking on the little stopwatch icon. a little yellow keyframe should appear where the cursor is, at the start of the gif:

then go to the end of the gif with the cursor. with the "SIX SONGS" layer selected, use the move tool or keyboard arrows (my preference) to move up the text until all the songs are inside the darker rectangle. once you move this layer's position, a keyframe will appear on the timeline and the animation will be created.

the animation now looks like this:

if you want, you can now edit the speed of the animation by moving the keyframes. the closer the two keyframes are, the faster the animation will be; the further apart the keyframes are, the slower the animation will be.

III. LAYER MASK

since we want the songs to be contained in the dark rectangle and below the line, we need to add a layer mask. i started by creating a shape of where i want the songs to be contained with the rectangular marquee tool:

then, on the layers panel, select the "songs" group and click on the layer mask icon to create a mask with that rectangular selection.

if you play the animation after making that layer mask, it should now look like this:

if you like it that way then you are done, yay!

but if you'd like softer edges, like i have done for mine, click on the layer mask's black and white thumbnail. use the brush tool with a 0% hardness and the black color to make the edges of the mask softer. make sure you are making your brush strokes with the layer mask's thumbnail selected.

once you have brushed a bit of black with a soft rounded brush on the top and bottom of the mask, the animation should look like this:

and that's it! i hope this was clear enough :)

[sleepybbie]

LET’S EXCHANGE, SHALL WE? | blade x reader

summary: blade helps you finish your mission as a spy with him as your objective by giving you an exchange (he knows) you won’t refuse

assassin!blade x fem!spy!reader

note: f/n - fake name, first time posting smut >.< , porn with plot (it’s a long ride folks), reader calls him ren, (might) ooc blade T^T virginity loss, v*gin*l f*nger*ng, nipple teasing, with proofhead ! cunn*l*ngus, breast groping, hick*ys, hair pulling, it’s reader’s first time ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა blade is down bad for her °ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ° lots of praise <3 also teasing, he kinda bullies her :((, fluff at the end ;3 (this fic is based on the manga cinderella x assassin >w< i also imagined how hot assassin!blade is frfr ) hope u cuties enjoy!

a/n: this is my first time writing smut because i am mostly on the fluff side of writing ToT but thanks to some uhh advise from other writings, i hope this is written well :,> english isn’t my first language so forgive me if i had any mistakes here TwT

it was all nothing new. you knew that all too well.

here at the association of blue angels, it is necessary that every spy has their own change of paths that comes across their ways in order for them to fulfil their duties and gain secret information from their clients, whether they are deadly, from aristocratic families, from high positions, or popular idols, it is fundamental that their aim for their prime objective is done and filed back at the organization. no matter who their target was, it was an absolute must you return with new info regarding the end of the view.

it was all nothing new, of how your boss would pick you for every male target, quiet with predatory gaze for women that lurk next to their sides. pretty girls like you will easily win their attention, that’s why they see why you’re perfect to work as a spy at the blue angels. your looks are perfect for the eyes of others, the definition of an eye candy. you knew your job all too well. non-stop praises from your boss whenever you’d return with an info dragged along on your palm, your eyes naively scanning down on the office floor as you mutter out an ‘i’ve returned.’

with different personas you became, brand new names you required in your business; that is what it takes to be a spy in disguise. for you, all of that just to be used as a seducing tool. so much for the title you earned…with these priorities set on to you, you would be forced to fuck your targets afterwards. the organization you were apart of depended on you with these said goals, and that’s the problem they see…

because you were too sheepish to eventually have sex with your objectives, even when asked.

yes, you have the looks to charm them like a siren luring their victims. however you were…too unsophisticated. guileless innocence and purity of a shy teenager. the confidence of seduction is what you lack. no wonder some of your co-workers poke fun at you. the naive y/n, they would murmur to you. but, they had no choice as you were the best spy among your group who can catch the eyes of men in a blink of an eye. set aside your ingeniousness…

it wasn’t like you asked for these missions to be set to you, after all, ever since they noticed your lack of temptation for the people they assigned you to, you were given to more easier victims, someone you won’t have a hard time gaining info from, in easier words someone you would not have to sleep with to collect main enlightenment. this, sounded somewhat as an insult for you. yet, for them, they just think this was for your best to avoid pressure.

‘pressure my ass…i do spy work, not sex work..who do they think they are?’ were the thoughts circulating inside of your head once you were outside of your boss’ office. them seeing your body as the sheer instrument of your skills when out as an undercover, you hated it. you wished they’d return your assignments when your targets were tougher victims. now that you are known in the blue angels association as the girly spy whose looks can kill, there was never going back as your reputation swoons the other workers when the aim is a pervert.

not much long after, your boss had called you into his office to hand over a new mission; following your last successful expedition that had been completed. as your eyes gazed down on the paper he slid on his desk, you slowly read the details for your next objective.

an assassin. a dangerous one to be exact.

“they call him blade, his real name is currently unknown. he works for the stella hunters department, an association filled with menacing assassins, and he’s one of the deadliest among them. find all regarding information about this man, including his weaknesses, and don’t hesitate to swoop in all you can. i’ll be handing this commission over to you, y/n,” is what your boss said, lighting a cigarette whilst looking over the paper that you held on your hands. you couldn’t help but be overjoyed once you heard this responsibility was handed to you, who had been longing for a task like this for so long. you’ll show them, you’ll show how you’re not just the kind of spy who sleeps with their intent. with a smile, you wholeheartedly accepted this work.

so, you put up a new persona, new name, and you were all set. this should be easy, with your looks there may be a chance this person will be beneath your thumb.

oh how right they were when they call you naive y/n..

blade was…scary. though, you managed to make him fall for you after months of trying. and there was this tiny gut feeling inside of you that was saying you were slowly falling for him, too. he was good-looking, fucking handsome. he’s got the stealth of a ninja, as if his presence wasn’t even there at the first place. so far, he is able to startle you whenever. the sword that he swings in his hands were swift, fast, and silent—often drools with the copper scent of velvet liquid. you pretended not to notice since he told you he worked as a bodyguard. the fake name you gave to him, he addresses you as f/n. you think it was convincing enough, after all, you ‘dated’ him for over 3 months now, that was a record. you didn’t quite understand why blade fell for you, in honest speaking; all you knew is that he suddenly asked you out when you both were at a fancy cafe shop he dragged you along with. his red eyes lured you, instead, and that made your heart jump.

surprisingly, blade was quite affectionate. despite being cold to your for the past months, he soon began to open up to you more with his loving antics. ‘cause of that, you were slowly getting weak over his words like some damsel. well, 3 months of dating can end up to something like this happening, although that doesn’t matter for now. your boss was pleased when he heard the news from you.

“did you manage to dig through his personal info? real name perhaps?”

“i—uhh…n-no, i still haven’t managed to..”

“…”

“…”

“just keep up the work, y/n. do not disappoint me.”

blade is an assassin for god’s sake, scooping information about him will take more than years to do so, even if you were playing as his faux ‘lover.’ you didn’t understand why he refused to answer questions from you in connection of his workspace, he replies all the time that it was ‘too embarrassing’ to say so. he says that then won’t hesitate to come home and drop his sword somewhere in his big house. this was going to take longer than you thought it was. no wonder this assignment was labeled as ‘heavy.’ investigating him was like a trace gone cold no matter how many evidence you found. it was like the said evidence were nothing but dents.

so that was why you decided to take matters into your own hands.

while he was out on his ‘work,’ you walked inside his home naturally, and quietly. blade always told you where his house keys were hidden every time he was out for business. your skills of not leaving traces as perfectly working as always. his small office inside of his house, you easily unlocked the door and went inside. blade had mentioned to you to never enter his house office, yet here you were. you couldn’t help but feel a little bad, however this was your job. you weren’t supposed to love him in the first place, you’re just a spy. playing with someone’s heart can be cruel.

his documents that spread on the inside of his cabinets that were placed on the sides, you opened them, seeing all the details you needed; displayed in front of you. your heart drummed in exhilaration, already imagining all the possibilities your boss might give you for your future works.

oh naive you..

“what might you be doing…y/n?”

a cold metallic feeling that touches your neck as you didn’t have time to react to the stern voice that whispered through your ears. gloved hands crawl through your thigh as the other held the bloodied sword closer to your throat. your breath hitches, and time froze at that moment. your eyes widen once you realized something..

he called you…y/n. not your fake name.

“b-blade..?”

“yes, y/n? what are you doing here?”

this wasn’t a fucking dream, he knows your name.

“why so silent now? are you surprised i know your real name, y/n?” the way he speaks your name was austere, moving closer before he gently lays his head on your shoulder. even his gorgeous face was splattered with blood, almost his entire clothing was. you were done for, your cover was blown.

“h-how..?”

“hm? how’d i know?” he chuckles. “simple…you’re a spy, aren’t you?”

you froze

“i thought your organization is a lot more smarter than that, sending a cute girl here to grab my attention. well…not like i’m complaining..you guys do know it’s not easy to fool me, right? and now you’re here in my office when i forbid you to go, that won’t do, y/n..” he spoke, softly caressing your thigh in a manner that slowly turned rough. you let out a soft grunt as blade grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, his red hues staring back at yours as he smiles like a manic. you couldn’t move your eyes away…those chilling eyes, like a predator looking at its prey.

“so? tell me.”

there was nowhere else to run. he’s got you on a chokehold, your body pressed against his as his strong grip held you down. you didn’t even register your thoughts completely to know you were sitting on top of him, you were too focused on his deadly gaze. your entire life as a spy, all fell down quickly like building blocks…all because of blade. your eyes felt like tearing up, finding the words to say, heartbeat screaming in your chest to just tell the truth…you…

“i have betrayed you, blade..”

blade’s attention was fully on you now, glancing at your body on top of his as you spoke in a whisper, almost in regret.

“i was going to find your name…and report it to the association…” you should’ve just declined the job. maybe the easier works were made for you after all.

“i’m sorry…if you must kill me then…i’ll accept that outcome.” you wanted to apologize to your boss, as well. for failing as a spy, for ruining his expectations on this ongoing mission. blade looks at you with no reaction, he still held you tight before grabbing his sword. this was it. this is the end for you.

“i see..” was all he responded before raising up his weapon, blood dropping down from the tip. blade hugs you tight, the sword adjusting over your neck.

as you closed your eyes, you watched as every decision you made throughout your life flashed before your mind. you began to wonder if maybe you were born as a normal girl—not a spy or anything, would you have found happiness? true love? would you have finished school and achieve a dream you’ve always wanted? probably. however, here you are, spending your last moments in life as it was ended by an assassin. there was no point in asking those questions now, this was the final.

just then, the sound of the sword dropping on the floor came on your ears, your eyes were back wide open when two pairs of arms are now wrapped around your shoulders, almost like a mother hugging her child close. blade laid his head down on your shoulder once more, smudging small drips of blood onto your clothing as you felt his breath on your neck.

“ren..” he mutters to you through the hug. “just call me ren…” then he pats your head like an animal.

you had a whole bag of questions right after that moment. pulling away, you looked at him with the most bewildered face ever, your face contorted whether you were angry or just plain confused.

“what?”

“hm? what? oh, ren as in—

“that’s not what i’m confused about..!”

blade was amused by how you reacted to his sudden gesture. most assassins by now would’ve sliced your neck open upon seeing you were an undercover spy sneaking info out of him, however from here…he instead proposed a deal. a deal that made you get stuck to this job.

“if you agree to marry me and become my wife, then i’ll allow you to keep spying on me.”

you think it’s dumb at first, marrying someone for the sake of knowing every little detail about him for some stupid mission. but again, his proposal was reasonable enough. for him, his side was that he gets to marry you. and for you, you can inform your boss you lured him into an engagement. easy as that. you can already see the look on your boss’ face once you tell him that exact information. blood rushes through your cheeks as you were thrilled with the thought. it’s a big win-win for both of you, and a marriage contract will do the trick. eventually, you agreed.

and thus, the two of you got married. in contract.

this was for the commission, was what you kept telling yourself. a married life with blade was…something that might take a while to get used to. he spoiled you rotten, when you guys got married he bought an expensive wedding gown on that same day, all because you thought the dress was pretty. he was loaded for an assassin. the stella hunters group payed them fairly. too fairly. they are a group of assassins after all. blade loved teasing you, seeing your face blush was his favorite sight. and his teasing wasn’t even intentional. hell—he probably turned a deaf ear when he was making fun of you.

no long after, you moved into his huge apartment. living together wasn’t much of a hassle. there were separate rooms, so whenever you wanted to not sleep with him, you would sleep in the other room (just in case). he’d gift you small gifts, something to entertain you with. sometimes, he’ll buy unnecessary lingerie to deride you with, piss you off with probably, too. you weren’t going to lie, some of the lingerie he bought were pretty (yet that doesn’t mean you like them !) it’s unbelievable to know how much blade says ‘i love you’s’ to you a whole lot. his demeanour as an assassin changed when you’re around.

on second thought, this man was out of his head. and weird.

you slightly began to think of him as a pervert, blade likes to scan down a lot to look at your melons. though, this doesn’t happen frequently, he only does it when you notice just to pull on your strings. you hated how instead of you who kept blade under your thumb, it was him who was influencing you. he had a strong morale, blade knows about the stares you give him every time he comes out of the shower. pretending like he doesn’t notice then would proceed to walk towards you with a towel over his leaking head. men like him on assignments are (kind of) no different, with good looks at first it should be alright, then suddenly they were perverts. it was an ongoing cycle you run throughout your life as a female spy, never escaping the chain of male clients.

and as for you who was an eye candy of every male gaze in your work, there was no difference of how easily they fawn over your figure like a barbie doll. nothing new to you; but to blade, he’s fully aware. he knew the treatment you got from your workplace, how you complained to him during on dates of how you were mostly assigned to older guys or either degenerates. as long as they were guys, you were quickly rolled in. you were pretty, and cute. he can understand why your boss gave you roles for victims who were men. it’s often hard grabbing the attention of a man after all, unless you were beautiful. yet he tells you how you actually did a nice job making him fall for you.

a blush erupts on your face when he mentioned that. blade only said that to make you feel better, is what your brain told you.

with the deal ongoing, you and blade made a lot of exchanges, some of them were cardinal for your mission as a spy. he gave you a lot of opportunities to know every little thing about him. in return, all he asked for were hugs, kisses, or dates. he was like a lovesick puppy. the loving looks he gave you, taking your palm out of nowhere then kisses them so soothingly. it was not worth questioning of how he makes you down on your knees. though you refused to let him know about that side of you of course.

you can’t let yourself down for a handsome assassin.

you and blade came home one day from a banquet incident.

it was supposed to be part of his assignment. to assassinate a director chief who was part of that party. all you have to do was merely watch him and be his party date. he came along with a colleague, her name was kafka. she introduced herself to you then congratulated your marriage with blade. she was beautiful, eyes hypnotizing and her presence as dangerous as blade’s. throughout the party, she started to grow a liking towards you, asking you to dance with her then glancing behind your back with your hand on hers. she was probably trying to make blade jealous.

how right she was when she said it worked.

kafka was rather flirty, although she was wearing a suit to the banquet, she still looks exquisite. for the entire night, you spent half of your time with her. well—she made you spend your time with her to be exact. dancing and sharing chats while drinking underneath the moonlight. you weren’t sure how blade reacted to his female companion being a little too close with his wife. in the meantime, she asked a lot of questions to you, too, asking how you and blade met, what made you love him, the usual questions like a mother asking about her son. she smiles mischievously at every answer you gave.

there was a side of you that’s telling not to trust this woman much. she had a mystique side to her. just by the look of her eyes, you knew kafka was someone not be trusted. she is an assassin, just like your husband. spies and assassins were no different much for their missions. unlike spies, they don’t kill in order to obtain said info. they hide themselves in order to do so, like skulking shadows. while assassins like them, chooses violence. how did the world come up so terrible that they created people like your profession to exist?

that same night, however, a small explosion occured, catching you immediate attention. the floor shakes with ease, leaving small visible cracks. screams of the people in that party made a ruckus, running out of the building from below your view as you only watched in a panic. what in the world just happened?

“hmm, just as the boss planned..” you hear kafka say, bringing her gun out of the pockets of her suit. she seems entertained; and she came prepared as predicated. you were right when you thought of how full her coat’s pocket looked. you send her a gaze, perplexed of what she meant.

“i-is ren going to be alright in there??”

“relax~ he’s a professional. do you really think bladie won’t survive in something so small like that~?” something so small, was his agency used to this type of disaster? assassins are frightening indeed. as kafka opened the door from the balcony you two stood in, a large dark smoke erupted out from the party room. you covered your nose, letting out a loud cough while kafka stood there, unbothered. a figure stands in front of her.

“i told you to send a signal, didn’t i?” kafka spoke, her eyes dark as a smile aligned on her face.

blade stands tall, his appearance sanguinary with the drip of crimson coming down on his sword. he looks nonchalant as he stared back at kafka, he huffs, “the bomb went off earlier than i thought. i’ve already slaughtered the remaining security,” blade says, wiping the small blood the slides down his chin. even with something like blood falling down on his image, your husband still looks ethereal. not a single scratch was on him, not even an injury from the bomb. he wasn’t bathing in his own blood, yet he bathed in others. the two assassins looked so astounding together. with their threatening aura and glances they shared, they were really one of the most best assassins in the team. your boss really was mindful to warn you about them.

“is that so? very good then. the lesser the better for our target to be shot in the head…also, you worried your adorable wife, y’know? she was scared you’d die in the bomb,” kafka tells the male, a soft chuckle following by. blade gazes back to meet your figure. you look magnificent in that dress he made you wear. coming to the banquet as his date was truly one of the best ideas he made. blade excused himself for a moment, walking past kafka and straight to you before pressing a small kiss on your temple, not minding the blood that smeared onto your forehead. his gloved hands pulled your head closer to him. you noticed blade had taken off his black coat that matched his suit, probably because it was too hot? either way it’s not worth pointing out, since he looks handsome looking like that.

“apologies, did that scare you..?”

“not at all j-just…shocked..”

“is that so?”

“save the loving hours for later, bladie. we got more business to take care of~” kafka cuts the small conversation between the both of you as she cunningly walks back inside the room boiled with grey smoke, her dark suit dissolving along with her enigmatic figure before disappearing in the space of the area. after she had left, blade turns his head to look back at you, his dark eyes never leaving yours, “you should head to a more safer spot. follow me, i’ll lead you there.”

the route you followed as you trailed behind blade made you quiver in fear when the glimpse of countless lifeless bodies of securities scattered all over the place like fallen dominos. it was if as a blood war happened here. the eerie silence pierced your cowardice even more that blade had to pull your closer to his side. talk about overprotective…your husband dragged you away to an overcast corner, where there were no one else surrounding near that spot. he told you to stay there for awhile, and wait for his return. credulously, you obliged and await for his arrival. the place creaked, helpless pleas fall onto your ears before hearing the sounds of either gunshots or the swift movement of a sword finish the loud cries they let out. this scared you, having to cover your ears and ignore the shouts they let out as the assassins out ended their lives, including the targeted director chief.

spies aren’t special in these types of occupations where blood spilled like paint. as said, your team is more in specialising in gathering top secret data from other groups that your association acquired to know about. meddling with other people’s business (inclusive of your husband and his colleague’s job) was on your description, but not into the extent of this. you weren’t used to hearing bullets firing, guts being spilled and cries of help ring in your ears like a nightmare. however, this was the nature for cold-blooded criminal assassins like them. the sound of footsteps echoed through your hearing, along with the sight of blade returning. his hair was a little messy (in a manner that turned him even more hotter), sword placed tightly in his palm, leaking with scarlet. blade sighed, “i’m back..”

“a-are you ok?? you’re dripping in blood..!”

“it’s their blood, not mine. are you worried about me, y/n?”

“o-of course i am! for goodness sake!” he laughs, a hoarse breath nudging in the middle of his throat before he pulls you closer, forehead pressed against yours as he stared deep into your eyes. “you stayed as i asked…how obedient, y/n. perhaps shall i reward you..?”

“h-huh?? what are you—

suddenly a loud bang shoots through the tranquil air, blade immediately pulled your close to him, before a bullet flies through below his hip, hitting him.

your eyes went wide, seeing small pricks of blood drool down from his abdomen. blade grunts, his head looked across from the room and meets with the annoying smirk of the (surprisingly) alive security had over their face. “b-blade..!” you couldn’t help but shout. there was an ignite of irritation in his eyes. blade ignores you, pulling a pistol out from his pocket and shooting a headshot at the man, before the security finally died. blade held the spot where he was shot; feeling his body weaken as you called for kafka who had just arrived, also bathed in blood; with documents in her hands.

a limousine came to pick you guys up to bring blade to immediate aid. for the entire time you stayed right next to his side until he was bandaged by one of the nurses in the limo, stopping the slight blood that leaked down. thank goodness, he was wearing a bullet proof vest. however with the amount of shots he received from earlier battles, it seems like the final shot you witnessed to him harmed him directly to a more effective part of the bullet proof, causing a bleed. everyone in the limo, they all wore dark attire, collected expressions as the whole drive towards blade’s apartment was as soundless as the dead. blade rested his head over your shoulder, sneaking small subtle touches on your inner thigh while you tried your best to keep your mouth shut. wrecking the droning atmosphere was not something you’d want to do, not to mention the people who were with you in the limo were part of the stella hunters association.

kafka asked if you needed any assistance in dragging blade up on your shared penthouse apartment, though blade cuts in; saying he didn’t need help and that he was practically fine now. it’s as if the bullet shot at his hip didn’t effect him at all. him saying that he was used to being hurt…this made you even more worried about him. as he was one of the strongest in his section along with kafka, it was obvious the missions they give him were extremely perilous.

after the limo had dropped the both of you in your place, kafka bids you a (quite terrifying) farewell through the car glass, velvet gloves waving you a goodbye before the window rolls back up, and the limo leaves with nothing else. blade stood firmly still, despite being shot earlier at the banquet. the bandaged area hid within his bloodied suit shirt, navy dark hair hiding his other eye before he waited for you to stand next to him. “shall we?” he spoke to you in a gentle manner, his hand outreached to yours before you held it and led him home to your shared place.

upon opening the door— you warmly made him rest down on the couch, running to the kitchen to fetch him some water and prepare a bath. blade watches as you run around the house like a panicking maid and an airy chuckle escapes from his lip, “y/n..”

“y-yes…?” you murmured, stopping yourself from pacing back and forth. blade tilts his head a bit, a small smile appearing over his lips, “you know you don’t have to keep doing that. you look so concerned right now, y’know? this… i’m used to it..” he speaks. you didn’t like how he normally says that like bleeding and harming for him was casual despite being an assassin. even if he was strong, blade was still a person. pouting, you threw the towel away from the side and made him look at you, obvious look over your expression you were angry of what he said. was he a dumbass? “don’t say things like that, blade.”

he grins, “why not? it’s true.”

“blade, please, you’re making me worry about your health more. if it weren’t for the bullet proof vest you would’ve died..!”

the male stood up impatiently from the couch, walking next to your side as he suddenly moves his head a little closer to yours, a hum erupting out of him. you moved away, feeling the heat on your cheeks. close…he was so close. what’s with him all of a sudden? “you’re worried, y/n? how very kind..” he whispers, breath fanning over your neck. you shivered. bashfully, you turned your head away; avoiding eye contact as you replied, “i-is there something wrong? if you don’t like that then i can stop worrying if you keep teasing me..”

“how very strange..earlier at the banquet you said you were worried about me. taking back your words now?” there was venom in his tone, an icy gaze that lacks of emotion except for lechery was filled in his appearance. instead of dangerous for his term as an assassin maybe dangerously handsome is a more fitting description. you remained silent, not being able to talk back like he exposed you fully. another chuckle. “not answering, huh? in that case..”

instantly, your figures moved back to the soft cushions of the couch; arms held tight by his fingers along with the feeling of your legs spread across his body—face looking directly over his dark features. you were on top of him while blade laid down on the couch, holding you by your arms.

“you still have work to do, y/n,” he began, voice enchanting with toxin, bloodshot eyes digging holes into yours like a madman. your breath shakes, paralyzed in place when his fingers moved up to play with the small fats of your hips. “you could threaten me with a weapon, dig your hands into my wounds, and i would have to answer all of your questions…” his tone now latched with sweetness like honey. seeming convincing enough for you to be enlightened. you stared back at him, puzzled. “what are you talking—

blade pulls your arm closer to his face, emotionless eyes peeking through your glimmering irises that reads confusion and clarity. he smiles, “right now, i’m so weak…i couldn’t resist anything you do to me..” he quietly sneaks your hand on his injured area, feeling the familiar touch texture of the bandage touch your skin. the lingering sensation made you wince, blade looks indeed weak; pale skin as he breathes heavily. “i’m sure your association has so many things they’d love to know about me..” he mutters to you, lovingly. your breath hitches, taken back.

“well? now is your chance.”

you tightly clutched your fists from his sentence. an opportunity to know everything your boss had been dying to know about this man. anything you’ll ask, he says he’ll answer due to his enfeebled form. there’s a chance; you can’t just turn your head from this. every achievement you can earn by getting the statistics they desperately wanted. everything you wanted will be given if you just do your job right now—

no.

“i’m sorry..” blade blinks his eyes twice, dazed from your response. “it must’ve hurt really bad, didn’t it? i don’t think…i can do anything to you right now..” as you slowly moved your head away from his chest, few strands of your hair fell down across your face causing you to brush them away, you looked at blade with eyes that reads nothing but worry. the male glances back at you with a questionable look. “…to the association, i’m merely just another pawn. just like all the others like me, if we stop being useful we’re replaced right away..” looking down on his stomach, you sighed, “we’re only ever concerned about our own safety, and the idea that someone would protect me with their body…was novel to me. maybe that’s why, i had to protect you as well..”

steadily, your returned your head down on his chest, feeling him breathe heavily through the strokes you drew on his chest. you snuggled into that same warmth, inhaling in his scent. he smelled like enigma and copper, mixed with the floating fragrance of dark virtue . “be careful next time, okay? you’re still my objective after all..” you wanted to see what your husband looks like right now. after all, it took you some time to tell him those words that’s been latched from the back of your throat. maybe he’s looking at you funny, wasn’t expecting them from someone like you. yeah.

the sound of water falling down the tub caught your attention as you promptly excused yourself before jumping off of blade’s chest. walking towards the bathroom, you turned off the faucet that spilled out with warm water, and went back outside to call for blade, telling him that his bath was ready. the bath needed a little more foam, perhaps adding bubbles and some soap to the water will help ease his mind once he’s in the bathtub. before you could head back inside the bathroom to fill the water with soap, a hand stopped you from doing so, as a figure hugged you from behind, head on your shoulder. you flinched, stammering on your words to see blade.

“i love you..”

your eyes go wide.

he kisses the back of your neck, breathing in your scent. “you don’t even understand how much those words make me love you more. you’re so mean, y/n..” blade brushes his lip against your cheek, feeling yourself shudder in his touch. he laughs when you try to push him away. “t-the bath is ready! get yourself washed up so you’ll cleanse your wound as well!”

“has that moody boss of yours never once stood for you?” he dodges your topic.

“…what?” and you definitely have a lot of questions just by the mention of your boss flew out of his mouth. although you couldn’t help but wonder: why was your boss indeed so interested in him? assassins are supposed to be mysterious, it’s crystal clear there a lot of essential inquiry they posses as shadows—but him specifically? there has to be a valuable reason. your boss never hid anything much from you. “how do you know my boss? all i was told was to investigate your background and weaknesses but…w-wait! is there some type of personal conflict between the both of you?? why is the association so interested in you?? hey, tell me—

blade’s lips shut you off, ceasing your words before they could even wind up your query. his weight caused you to lose a bit of your balance, your hands pinned on the entrance of the bathroom as you muffled in his mouth. the kiss tasted like impatience and longing. he freed one of your hands, slipping his gloved palm over your coverless shoulders with a smooth rub to it. you flinched, before blade pulls away from the kiss. it took you awhile to catch your breath and registered what just happened.

“h-hey, what—

“let’s make an exchange. a deal.”

blade finally lets go of your hand, his arm just right above your head as he leans closer, covering your path. he looks solemn, yet there was a hint over his eyes that construes as an engulfing flame of impulse to kiss you again. his other hand slowly slid down to the wall next to you, touching your shoulders till it reaches your hip, pulling you in. “i know i might be playing foul, but if that’s the only card i have then i don’t mind..” the male playfully plays with the fabric of your dress, pulling them up until your feel your inner thigh feeling the cold wind. “i knew you were a spy, yet i bound you by this marriage contract. that’s just how much i yearn for you..”

what is he talking about? a deal? just what crazy ideas is this guy coming up again?

you didn’t realise your were zoning out until blade pushes your chin up with his forefinger, making you look up at him in a better view. “y/n, my dearest..here’s the deal, i’ll tell you my secrets, but in return…” your heart pounds heavily with electricity—feeling your breath quicken when he pressed his forehead softly against yours.

“…let me do anything i want with you tonight.”

that marriage contract he mentioned, although it was fake for the sake of your mission, the predicament you found yourself in was real. though, you needed a little more thought to think about what he wants to do with you, including when blade looked so…steamy?

‘it’s a great chance to gather information, but…what does ‘anything he wants’ entail—huh?’

the atmosphere quickly changed, the male didn’t give you a chance to utter out a word when he instantly went back to claim your lips. this time the kiss grew more heated than before, linking between the emotions craving and thirst—his cold hands exploring your body from out and within your dress, feeling your curves and the heat between them. you were slowly losing your balance, legs weakening from his strength like he was forcing his mouth in yours. actually, he was even more forceful than usual. this is wrong but…you couldn’t resist. it was hot, so hot. it feels like you were sweating as you two exchanged smothering kisses. you never knew blade was talented with his tongue until he used it to deepen the kiss, casting around your mouth until a small drop of saliva escapes out of your lip.

“you would like that, yeah?” the male in front of you muttered between kisses, a grin stretched over his face. “knowing my secrets, sharing it to your associates so your mission would be complete. you’re desperate to know too, correct?” he just knew the buttons to press to make you jolt in his touch. an exchange where instead of hurting him and force him to answer your questions regarding of the info you needed to report to your boss, maybe doing this was better. you’re a virgin after all. a small muffled whimper escapes out of your throat, trying to push him away but blade had already pinned both of your arms above your head—his grip on them strong. he chuckles in the kiss when he notices you struggling for air with your eyes tight shut. he pulls away, along with a small string of saliva connecting between your lips. you could finally breathe again as you pant hard. blade thinks the sight in front of him was fucking delicious, you acting so helpless and weak.

you see your husband licking his lip, right before leaning close again. “good girl, y/n. let’s kiss more, can we…?”

“i…”

“what’s that, dearest?”

you bit your bottom lip, fists tightening on his chest. flashbacks of your co-workers calling you pure, naive, artless…it was time for you to try something new, something you’ve never done before that everyone has already been through as young adults, or even teenagers. him giving you this opportunity to know such crucial data, if in exchange for your body. it was a better deal than earlier.

besides, you wanted to thank him.

it was a terrible decision to rub your thighs together; thinking blade wouldn’t notice (but he did). because of this, his pupils darken, something similar to the look of his eye whenever he was on assassin mode. “i wouldn’t do that if i were you, dearest..” blade spoke, already beginning to feel drunk on that desire that rushes through his veins. “you’re making this harder for me.”

“i’m…”

blade hums in reply to your short words, finger under your chin before you finished your sentence. you just needed the right string to pull off the trigger. maybe this is for the best for your new world. as a spy. you’ll get that stupid title you had for the whole 7 years of working there off of your name. staring right back at blade, looking through his red eyes, you took a deep breath.

“i’m all yours, blade.”

that was all he needed to hear.

he launched towards your lips, kissing you again with fiery passion. you kissed him back as you wrapped your arms around his neck, closing your eyes as you two indulge yourselves in a heated make-out session for the second time. blade was rough with his kisses, as if he was going to shift his name to your mouth, claiming every air that was entering through your lips and help you breathe properly. saying those words to him were a mistake, too, blade wasn’t letting you struggle. the lipgloss you applied that evening before heading to the banquet with him smudged on his lips, tasting you and its flavor. slowly did you feel your feet levitating from the floor, before a surprised yelp comes out of your voice.

blade was carrying you now, your arms still linked around his shoulders. he went forward to your neck after, licking your collarbone up until it reaches your throat, before slowly nipping his sharp teeth at the skin. your breath shakes, abjectly looking away at the vision of blade peppering wet kisses at your sensitive neck alongside leaving visible marks to them. oh how he loves the taste of your skin, like if he was licking the sweetest treat for the first time. his hands caressed your cheek like they were made of ivory, pulling away to look at your panting face, blushing madly. he likes the look of that. “you’re still as soft..and still as sweet..” he mumbles, “i’m getting tired, so why don’t we head up now, hm?”

answering back at him won’t help since the guy was already rushing up to his bedroom with you in his arms, pushing the door open with impatience of a madman—he pulled you in yet another kiss, and a satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you both settled down on his comfy bed. the room smelled like roses, lingering with air conditioned fragrance. you could fall asleep to the relaxing atmosphere, yet blade was helping you keep awake. your neck was probably covered in marks by now, since the assassin wasn’t intending on stopping. the cold air hits your bare thighs, making you shiver twice by the temperature, and by how blade’s fingers began to slide down on your legs to the core of your heat. you gasped hard once his forefinger reaches the main fabric of your panties.

“you’re panting hard though all we did was just kissing. imagine how hard you’ll be panting once i get to shove myself in you.” he was looking down on you and your pathetic figure. how your tummy goes up and down, how your legs squished his hand that touches your panties, how your doe eyes laced with innocence looked at him when he teased you. his patience was running thin with you. god, you’re going to be the death of him. biting hard down on your thumb, you held blade’s arm, tugging on the sleeve. “i-i’ve never done this before..” you murmured, glossy eyes hypnotizing him under your spell. blade curses under his breath, pushing his hair back. you’re so damn cute, he wanted to just fuck your face but he can’t just do that. as much as he’d like to ruin you, rapture himself with your presence—he needed to be gentle with his cute virgin wife.

“yeah? well, i’ll be pleased to teach you then.” he replies, shortly before ripping your panties down to your legs. you winced once the cold air entered to your heating core, seeing small drops of impure liquid drip from your entrance to the soft fabric of your underwear. blade chuckles at your reaction. ��first, i’ll teach you how to prep yourself before we get to the main part. but damn, wet already? all we did was share kisses, dearest.”

a pout forms over your face with the sudden teasing, making you meekly cross your legs in order to hide. blade however, didn’t like this attitude you give him. “don’t, i’m observing..” was all he says, his eyes scanned down to your leaking cavern like a hunter tracking down its next meal. you felt frail under his ravening gaze, hands curling into fists while you whined of the way his other hand rubbed over your thighs, earnestly—under all the touch of his black gloves. “i-its embarrassing, don’t look at it like tha—ah!”

his hand worked like magic, gloved fingers propped over your aching entrance as he gave it a rub. that alone was already enough to make your jolt from the comfy sheets of the bed, a loud gasp erupting out of your mouth. blade began to starve from eagerness, pulling his glove out of his hands using his teeth, before his now naked hands continued to toy with your puffy clit; glistening like a gem on his hands. the new feeling sends all kinds of electrical waves throughout your body—pleasure from heaven that shoots just where you liked it. holy shit, this felt good. no wonder some of your co-workers told how you were ‘missing out’ on some of your opportunities to sleep with some of your targets.

the way his hands rubbed circles around your entrance was sending shockwaves and new emotions that coil up inside of your stomach. this was such a nice feeling, you didn’t want him to stop. you hear blade chuckle, “relax, honey..” he whispers, dark and smooth like velvet. his eyes were glued to yours, watching your every reaction and every breath that comes out of your mouth. he didn’t want to miss a single one of it. “you’re so pretty..i can’t wait another minute..” he had a tight grip over your thighs, fingers soaked from kneading your hole in circles. though, he was curious; and also wanted to give you a new experience..

you were disappointed when the feeling of his stroking his fingers on your clit stopped, looking at him with a hopeless look on your face. blade smiles, right before as he shoves you down more on the bed, his fingers entering your narrow entrance. you let out a satisfied cry, back arched up. now that was even more better. hell, that was already enough to sends a current down on your body, you looked so pretty when you whine. “why do you look like that? have you never fucked yourself with your fingers before?” he questions, and you shook your head. he whistles, “heh. you really were missing out. fuck, what a tight one. and this is just with my fingers,” blade slightly flicks his tongue over your mouth, pinning your arm above your head while his fingers began to pump in and out of your cute pussy, squelching noises echoing inside of the room. sweet melodies came out of your throat, sounding like music to your husband’s ears. oh how he wished he could record you right now.

“you look gorgeous crying my name like that, dearest.”

you bit your bottom lip, closing your eyes as you try to just focus on the pleasure he was giving you. his fingers dig deeper to a spot you wanted him the most—prodding closer to your release. you moaned out his name, your white knuckled hands gripped the sheet, the tension in your muscles growing as you held yourself to remain still. “b-blade…!”

“what’s wrong? afraid you like it?” the corners of blade’s mouth twitched upward still in a mischievous grin. slowly did your hips begin to bounce over his drenched digits, silencing your pleasured sighs by biting down hard on your finger as the continuous resonance of your moist cunt being played by his fingers filled the room’s walls. it was as a clear as day you’re inexperienced, so that’s why he thinks this was a perfect time. blade notices how your euphoric essence followed through his rhythm, seeming amused he let you be to pleasure yourself on him, trying his best to ignore his aching cock underneath the fabric of his pants—the sight of you acting like a bitch in heat is forbidding him from doing so however. your moans went louder when you felt his fingers curl inside your clit like it was an instrument, hearing his manic chuckle as he watches you squirm and tremble.

it was lewd. small gasps escapes your lips, trying to cut the knot that’s tied inside of your belly. a wave of intensity runs through your skin as you closed your eyes shut; feeling that closeness almost approaching from your core. good, it felt so good you could almost float on how his fingers did its job. blade kisses you, a groan floating out of his tongue before the coil inside of you was finally cut, and you feel your high dripping down on your legs. you cried loudly into the kiss, before pulling away, panting deeply. the space that lives inside of your head was filled with smoke, mindless into the gaze of the eyes with shades of red. it hasn't even been closer to 5 minutes when your husband began to finger your pure pussy, yet your first orgasm rushed through you like a huge tide. and shit, it felt great. a drool slipped past your lips while catching your breath; meanwhile the smirking assassin on the other hand was chucking as he collected a small amount of your impurity on his long digits, before taking a taste. you blushed madly upon seeing how his red hues widen at the flavor of your arousal.

as he parted his tongue off from his fingers, a small string of saliva followed by. that was fucking hot. "dearest...you taste fucking divine, y'know that?" he tells you like a beast after his thirst was quenched. "what an honor to be your first person to teach you all about this. now that you know how fucking on fingers feel like, next..." the male instantly moves away from your side, roughly gripping hard on both of your thighs before kneeling on the floor right in front of the mattress—predatory gaze meeting your slick pussy. his hot breath fans over core, before planting a quick kiss over at the sensitive area. you squirmed. "for this next one, let me teach you what fucking on my tongue feels like..." you weren't even finished resting from your previous orgasm and he was already prepping you for round 2. this man is going to slaughter you...

at a leisurely pace did he flailed his tongue out of his lips, before he licks a long stripe at your aching cunt. your back arched, a mewl spilled off from your throat, eyes shut tight as your legs moved on its own. sheepishly wrapping around his neck to pull him closer to your core, your hands tugging on his hair. it felt like a whole new feeling, his warm wet tongue navigating to your area—creating new sinful noises to come out of your lips. your breath became quicker, being filled with greediness and filth.

your body quivers as blade began to eat you out, much more faster than before. your liquids hovering on his tongue as animalistic growls erupts from his throat, hand gripping more harsh on your thighs, leaving finger marks in the process as his mouth sucks on your bud like it was his last meal. your thoughts began to melt in pleasure, cries of satisfaction being the only sound along with the continuous laps of blade's mouth feasting over your core, gripping down onto your thigh fat like a madman begging to be choked between your legs.

there was another knot building up over your stomach in no time when blade's mouth reached a certain spot in you, causing you to arch your back upwards, covering the sudden yelp you let out in surprise. his mouth began to lick on that inexorable spot that he had discovered, smirking before sucking every fiber out of you. how vulgar the noises his tongue made while he fucks you with his mouth. you began to see stars, heaven sent euphoria from above that this type of lust that boils within you made you feel like a whole new different person. it was sending new flares within the contact of touches he did, your body grinding on his handsome face—the cushions of the bed below being soaked by your spilling arousal from earlier. that same flare began to engulf more into a more intense heat, feeling your second wave of orgasm incoming while fucking yourself on his warm tongue.

blade had a now tyrannical grip on your thighs, pinning you in place while drowning in your overflowing fluids that started to spill little by little from your satiated cunt. the ongoing sensations of seraphic emotions crawling to the tips of his toes, poorly grinding himself at nothing. the sheets were steadily threading apart from the nails of your fingers, brain fixating at the man beneath you. his groans had been more vocal now, tongue leisurely sliding over your wet folds, while you were here fighting for your life to not cum on his face out of nowhere. how cute you are, weeping with pure tears running down your cheeks. it felt that good? poor girl, there there now...this will finish soon. he just needs to hear you.

"y/n...let me hear you, dearest." his feast over your folds stopped when he spoke, wiping the liquid that fell down his chin with his thumb. you whined, legs prying to make him continue by pulling him closer, feeling vulnerable. he likes the look of that. "p-please...blade.."

"that's not the name we agreed on when we signed that marriage contract now, did we?" blade was definitely teasing you, pressing small pecks on your thigh to taunt you more. it was adorable of how you didn't realize how your eyes were molded in the lustful shapes of hearts, panting heavy as you tried to grind your face back on his hot mouth. with this new reaction of yours, he’ll make sure to take not on how to tease you. he backs away a little with a grin, softly caressing your legs wrapped around his shoulders. "if you want me to keep going, then say my name, dearest. my real name." the heat between your legs was too hard to ignore now, igniting up like blade was your fuel to the fire. it was painful to resist, including when you were already feeling so needy. you took a sharp breath, shifting your position as you locked eyes with the male, looking right at you. "r-ren...please..p-please keep going.."

"so obedient..." he finally muses, before fully shoving his tongue inside your folds. you folded back, hands roughly tugging on his hair as your legs kicked the air from behind, pitiful screams pushed past your lips as you feel the release almost coming of you. you hopelessly grinded on his face, pleas of his name spilling out of you like a mantra as he slowly devoured your clit. he holds you down, laughing between each suck he did on your cunt, right before pushing you over to the edge. whimpers of his name reached his ears like a symphony along with his soft groans, drinking your juices as you came down on your second orgasm. your body heaved, breathless, sweat dripping down your forehead in each breath you took. your thighs were covered with your wetness, with blade licking off your arousal from your folds before pulling away. if you could only take a good look at yourself now, you wouldn't wonder why blade was wearing a proud grin over his face.

the sight of you looking a mess, ruined, and spilled with your fluids. your hair was messy, strands up over your face as for your dress was a wreck. his cock hurt...you were ready now, so why need to hold back? your husband hovered against your figure for a moment, then leaning in to your lips and kissing you affectionately, giving a free taste of yourself that spread on his mouth. the both of you moaned in the kiss, blade sneaking his tongue in your mouth in order to hear more of you, audible growls mixed with your winsome whines. that was when you felt something hard poke beneath your leg, his hips rocking against your naked thigh as the both of you exchanged wet kisses. pulling away, blade lays his forehead against yours, "don't taste too bad, yeah? i think i'm gonna grow addicted to eating you out now."

your slapped his arm, and he chuckles darkly, moving away. it seems you were quite quick to take a breath even after going through two orgasms already, and both of which still hasn’t done with his dick. his eyes looked different than before—as if they were now injected with ecstasy. "now, onto the final one.."

your eyes darted towards blade as he slowly took his black coat off of his attire, his arms pushing back to remove the dressing alongside his black loose tie that hung messily around his neck, all while gazing at you with an intoxicating look. you gulped a small lump that was stuck between your throat, cheeks flaring as you watched him take upper clothing off, revealing the bandage patched to where he was (kind of) shot. "you're looking at me so intensely..like what you see?" he coos, and you looked away, feeling bashful when he called you out. this wasn't the first time that you had seen him shirtless, the both of you often almost ended up having sex if it weren't for you acting so endearing underneath him, the feeling of wanting to ruin your innocence leaving his body whenever he'd see you on that state.

yet now, the male felt like he had the strength to ravage your perfect body. hands sliding up to grope on your plush breasts in awe. he leans down, nipping the soft nape of your lovebite-covered neck; his fingers teases your nipples, dragging his tongue up till it reaches the shell of your ear, whispering words drugged with filth and vileness. your mind was hazy, from the previous bursts you let out from pleasure you couldn't really think straight. when the perception of your eyesight changed when you saw that same tent moving in his pants. it weighed down, catching your attention. naively did you reached for the bump in his pants, and softly rubbed on it, feeling how hard he is. blade groans when your fingers prodded on his clothed erected dick, slowly stopping from fondling your breasts as he gave in the pleasure you’re sending him. you can feel him shudder from above you. "fuck...you just—o-oh fuck..yeah, just like that. keep doing that, dearest.." he whimpered, hiding his face against your neck.

you moved your head to turn to blade, your fingers went forward to touching him while you timidly question if what you were doing was alright, you’ve never done this before after all. blade’s face was burning with carnal passion, sweat falling off his face. you stammered, “l-like this..?”

“yeah..n-ngh…p-put your thumb…rub your thumb over—hold on…”

you examined how blade impatiently takes his pants off, along with his dark-toned undergarments before his long shaft sprang to life, bumping into his toned tummy as it faced directly at you. heart pumping loudly in your chest, e/c pupils wide open as you realize his size…he was big, drops of pre-cum already leaking from his red angry tip while you lay there, astounded. you weren’t sure if he was going to fit. no seconds passed when blade took a hold of your hand, taking your fingers to wrap around his dick with your thumb kneading over the tip. “rub your thumb over here…and pump your hands up and down..” he teaches you, and you did just that. your breath stutters, looking at the navy haired male on top of you and how he started to groan in infatuation when you began pumping his cock. a surprised look latched on your face when you see him thrusting his hips up a bit in your hands, his palms still on your tits right until he brings his mouth to latch on one of your nipples.

the two of you let out your voices laced with lechery, voices producing tainted sounds as blade continued to fuck your hand while he sends you sweet bliss by sucking on your cute breasts, swirling his tongue over your areola as the other twirls his fingers around your nipple. tiny tears of his fluid started to flow down over your palm while you jerked him off, signalling how he’s close. the bed’s head bumped against the wall, loud creaking noises from its legs echoed in the bedroom. his semen covered your hand, little by little did his release came close right before blade pulls your hand away from his shaft, while also pushing himself away from your breasts. you innocently tilted your head, bewildered. he looks a little disappointed.

“don’t wanna cum just yet, pretty…wanna…do that now..” he says, despite already almost on the verge of cumming from your hand. pressing a small kiss on your cheek, the male tugs your dress down, taking a good view of your upper chest.

he thinks you’re pretty. he knows you’re pretty, blade always knows that, even after seeing you for the first time to whatever bullshit mission your organization got you into. but, he thinks you’re even more prettier without clothes.

how your body sculpted perfectly against his touch, lingering fragrance of your perfume and the scent of your hair had always been driving him mad alone. your body was a figure sculpted by angels and goddesses, your dress was completely ruined as it slides down your shoulders (so much for buying an expensive party clothing for a banquet that’s planned to be destroyed) all of you, just for him—a blessing. you were displayed like a gift. blade has always fantasized having you sprawled on the mattress of his bedroom like this, looking so helpless and begging to be fucked by him. oh, how god was on his side this day when his fantasies were finally happening, like a dream coming true.

blade was stunned once you brought your hand up to his cheek, caressing his face like a real wife would do to her husband. bounded to this contract for a mission, like a forced arrangement. however, there were no forces, and he just..really loves you. he blames himself for not meeting you any sooner, but that didn’t matter now; you’re here, underneath his figure, acting like you didn’t just scream his name while you came two times. fondly, as he gazed with devotion, blade held your hand that nuzzled on his warmth, tilting his head to the side. his hair falls down his gorgeous face.

“are you ready?” a question comes up, pushing your thighs apart, making the cold air hit your bare pussy that was shown to him. blade reached out for a packet of protection over the lamp next to the bed, ripping it open with his teeth and sliding it in with ease over his length. was that condom there in the first place? you didn’t know. he stroked himself a few times, gliding the tip against your swollen cunt. he wasn’t even in, yet your were trembling as you nodded.

“then, take a deep breath.”

you didn’t take note that what he said was actually warning.

no words were left to escape past your lips, replacing with a high pitched gasp as he gently inches into your cavern. fuck, he was big, it stings bad. he was absolutely right when he said to take a deep breath, the thickness of his shaft was killing you. your back arched up, already ripping off the sheets from his bed as blade’s head rested on your shoulder, surprised by your tightness. it was sucking in, getting to know each one’s heat as the two of you laid there for a while to adjust to his size.

“ fuck, just as i expected..”

“ ‘s so much…so full..”

you were basically almost sobbing at his length throbbing inside of you, making you wiggle your hips and push more down. shit, shit, shit, this felt good…you were seeing fucking stars, you were clawing down on the sheets, panting with that sinful voice of yours. blade notices this eagerness from you, and to him that was a sign for him to start moving.

with a slow pace, he looks down over at your figure, toying around with your tits as he begins to snap his hips to yours. the bed too began to creak, small squeaking sounds of his bed as blade slowly fell into the pleasure of your pussy clamping down on him. this seraphic occurrence you both were in, lost in each other’s touch and desire were like the world was nothing. tainted sounds of moaning and soft grunts and groans filled the room like an opera. your vision was clouded with passion, his face grinning down over your body like you were a goddess.

slowly and slowly, he starts to move his hips a little more faster, forcing you to follow through his rhythm, making sure your cunny can take in as much as it can. this was the moment, blade found your g-spot like a fucking bloodhound. the male smirks, now snapping his hips forward faster. that same sensitive area brought you to tears, going louder as both of your hands clawed down on his back, leaving visible marks as a reminder how he was hitting the good spots. the bed was hitting the wall behind you so hard, you thought it was about to break.

“ah! r-ren..!”

“don’t worry, i—fuck…i got you…”

it was filthy, the way he pushes his tongue down your lips to muffle your cute moans as he pounds his hips into you. he was in so deep…the tip was practically hitting on your cervix repeatedly like a cycle. it was like this man wasn’t almost injured at all. you couldn’t think of anything else..nothing else but the shape he’s leaving in your insides with just his dick was going to corrupt your head. you forgot what you came here for, fuck the mission.

“you’re so beautiful, dearest..crying my name like that..does it feel good?”

you nodded your head, tugging on his hair as he chuckles darkly. another knot in your stomach began to build up in no time, legs kicking the air as blade continued to ruthlessly ram himself in your tight pussy with a satisfied grin. you’re sure by the end of the day your legs would be sore, and you have to rest. so much for a first time, blade wasn’t giving you any vanilla in the house. you couldn’t believe you were doing this in exchange for information. he better keep his fucking promise.

he’s fucking into you like beast, lips kissing your breast before he hisses down over your bottom lip, “i’m not gonna fucking last…you’re driving me insane, woman..”

“r-ren please…feels so good…i’m..”

“yeah? me too, don’t worry…wanna see you covered…” he couldn’t finish his sentence as he was cut off with a groan, feeling his rod throbbing hard it was aching for a release. blade laughs. “all covered like a mess…is that ok, dearest? would you let your husband do that?” he questions so innocently like he wasn’t fucking you hard you’re seeing white. not thinking straight, you nodded like a helpless maiden, hands wrapped around his neck as you moaned, small drool spilling past your lips. “y-yes..please…”

“oh fuck..”

blade feels your release spill in the condom, hearing you mewl so loud in ecstasy it covers his own moans and grunts. oh god, your voice..it was so naughty, he couldn’t help it. he wasn’t showing any mercy to your pussy after that as blade now abused your poor cunt by going even more faster, not giving you time to recover from your precious orgasm. he groans next to your ear, saying your name before he bit on your earlobe. you squealed, the bed almost moving in a different direction. it took a while before the male pulls out, removes the rubber and spilled all over your stomach, some of the fluid landing on your face. it was a little upsetting how he didn’t get to cum inside of you, yet he’ll save that for future sessions..

the two of you lied there, panting heavily like you both just the ran a marathon. his head rested down on your shoulder, giving small kisses over your collarbone as you catch your breath. it feels icky, the cum on your stomach that he made…he came quite a lot.

“how’s that for a first time…?”

you opened your eyes to see blade gazing so lovingly at you like a prince. pouting, you pinched his arm, making him flinch. “you spilled all over me…”

“i asked if i can, you said i could.”

“i-i wasn’t listening properly..!”

“were you that into it?”

your face turns crimson, turning your head away. for a few moments, blade moves closer before giving you a short kiss on the lips, before he pulls away and removes the saliva off your chin with his thumb. you’re adorable, he knows you’re adorable..

“now then, what is it you’d like to know about me?”

oh..right. the exchange he made.

“huh? oh..! u-uhm..”

“did i fucked your brains out so hard you can’t remember?”

you had to hide your face with your palms because of how vulgar he said those words with a devilish grin. now you know why your boss wanted to know about this man.

he was indeed very mysterious. and charming perhaps.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Five: Tumultuous Teachings

The Missing Title

Helmut Zemo x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Circling in on Karli's position, she's in your sights. With unexpected guests and differing morals, surely the plan will go accordingly... right? All it takes is a little Super Soldier Serum and a phone for the world to blow up.

Words: 15.5k

Warnings: Dark Humor, Sexual Content, Violence, Guns, Manipulation

Mentions of: Politics, Death, Extremist Beliefs, Lying,

A/N: Ahhh, idk why I've fallen back in love with this, but I'm just... so invested in trying to get more of the story out right now! I missed all of their banter and can't wait to actually get to my continuation of the story past the actual plot of the episodes.

Following Zemo down the cobblestone streets, you can't help but take in your surroundings. Truthfully, you're not well traveled, and while it's always been something you'd been interested in, you'd never gotten the chance. Not until now, you suppose. Two continents down in a matter of seventy-two hours certainly is something to be said.

Lips parted in awe, the colorful buildings and their accompanying trim captivate you. There's so much intricacy in the sculptures and patterns adorning the architecture; it's clear that this city is old, its buildings and roads give a glimpse into the past, hints of another time seeping through. It could, in part, be due to the fact that Riga is the capital of Latvia, upon the search you did before arriving, however it's possible the theme also extends beyond the city. That part you're unsure of.

"I heard what became of Sokovia," Zemo breaks the silence. "Cannibalized by its neighbors before the land was even cleared of rubble, erased from the map. I don't suppose any of you bothered visiting the memorial?" Just as you open your mouth to speak, he's continuing, not having given anyone a chance to answer. "Of course not. Why would you?"

"I saw it," you add quietly, "well- the one in New York. I haven't ever been here before... never even been to Europe," you decidedly ramble, the last part quiet as you talk more to yourself than them, seeing as they aren't really listening. "Well, not until now, I guess."

"We are here," Zemo announces, effectively icing you out. It's clear he doesn't wish to continue on the topic he'd brought up. Though, the look that'd crossed his features for a split second upon your confession was one that seemed to give him pause. Heading for the ornately designed metal gate, it isn't until someone else speaks up that your group slows to a stop.

"I'm gonna go on a walk," Bucky states. Turning to look at him, your eyebrows raise slightly in surprise.

"You good?" Sam asks.

"Yeah," Bucky assures you all. You're tempted to ask if he wants company, but, knowing how quiet he can be, he seems more like the introspective type. Probably would prefer solitude, you jecture. "I'll see you guys in a bit."

"Okay," you acknowledge, "Be safe," you call out after him as he's already a few paces away.

"Yep!" Is all the Soldier responds with before you follow the men up the stairs. Met with an elaborate metal gate artistically crafted with points and spirals, you admire the stained glass windows on the apartment's door while Zemo unlocks it.

"Welcome," the Baron states as he opens the door and follows you in. Stunned by the foyer, you take a few steps inside, gogging at your surroundings. There's a bowl of apples on the table. You begin to slip off your shoes as the men continue settling in. "I am going to freshen up if you'll excuse me. Please, make yourselves at home."

The colorfully tiled floor captures your eyes as the stone's cool temperature seeps through your socks. "Thanks," you respond halfheartedly, still taking in all the tiny details hidden in every surface of the apartment. Opting for the expansive multi-colored couch, you plop down onto it as you let yourself relax for five minutes.

"Why don't you take a nap?" Sam suggests from where he stands in the kitchen, hand atop the counter he currently rounds.

"I'm thinking about it," you respond. Though, there might be something to the Avenger's predictive skills considering as soon as you'd sat down the tired weight of your body and mind started to drag you under.

"I meant, like, in a bed somewhere," Sam explains with a chuckle.

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

The sound of a door shutting causes your body to suddenly lurch upright as you look for its source. Quickly finding the Bionic Staring Machine--as Sharon so lovingly put it--striding into the living space of the apartment, the slam of the door must've been him getting back.

"Well, the Wakandans are here," Bucky states casually as he walks into the room. "They want Zemo."

"What?! When? You just saw them now?" Interrupting Bucky, you feel like this is a lot bigger of a deal then he's letting on. After all, if they're here- where are they? Because they're not with him.

"-Bought us some more time." The man stops in the middle of the room and turns to you, giving you a pointed stare. "Yes, just now." You're left wondering if he got that look from Sam, or Sam picked that up from Bucky.

"Were you followed?" Sam questions, turning toward Bucky in his seat at the counter.

"No," Bucky answers.

"How do you know for sure?" You prod.

"How can you be so sure?" Zemo asks at the same time, emerging from the bathroom. This elicits a look from him as the two of you try and gauge the other, unsure if you're shocked that you had the same line of thinking, or whether you're more alike than you'd previously thought. Perhaps it's just a coincidence! After all, it's a pretty logical question, right?

"Because I know when I'm being followed. Alright?" Bucky retorts without hesitation, an annoyance obvious in his tone. At least you're almost certain that's what it is... even if the soldier sounds vexed half the time, in your opinion.

"It was sweet of you to defend me at least," Zemo comments. It's only then that you notice he's only clad in a bathrobe as he pats his face.

An aroma of something sweet like citrus, yet spicy like a mint or menthol emanates from his direction, and you can only assume it's aftershave considering his hair is also wet. Hadn't he said something about freshening up? Since when does that include actually bathing? Sleep still has it claws curled around the edges of your mind as you scoot to the edge of the couch.

"Hey, you shut it-" Sam barks, "No one's defending you. You killed Nagel." There's something uncouth about the way a quiet giggle tumbles past your lips.

"Do we really have to-" Zemo pauses, his attention turning to you with a skeptic look.

"Why are you laughing? How, exactly, is this funny?" Sam turns his frustration on you. Hands immediately coming up in defense, you attempt to hold back the smile tugging at your lips.

"It's not," you assure him, "it's not, I just... why would you say that?" You laugh again, looking toward Zemo with furrowed brows. This man is... puzzling, to say the least.

"Because it was nice of him to advocate on my behalf," the Baron shrugs, seemingly nonplussed. Yet, the faint smirk tugging at his lip tells you otherwise. "Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened?" Zemo finishes his original thought.

"You're clearly in need of some good sleep. Why don't you head to bed?" Sam urges, before turning on the redhead. "There's nothing to litigate! You straight shot the man."

"I mean... kind of hard to say you didn't when we all witnessed it," you point out with a shrug of your own. Standing, you approach the kitchen counter in an attempt to see what's so interesting on Bucky's phone. The man hasn't contributed once since leaving you all with that bombshell, distracted by the piece of technology in his gloved hands.

"Sam," Bucky calls. Of course, just when you think to engage him, he's refocused on your friend, ultimately ignoring you. Well, and Zemo, if that means anything.

"What?" The Avenger prods, his undivided attention turning toward the soldier as you all gather around the counter.

"Karli bombed a GRC Supply Depot," Bucky states monotonously.

"What?" Sam asks surprised, "What's the damage?"

"Eleven injured, three dead," the Soldier reads off his phone. "They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren't met in full."

"She's getting worse," Zemo states as if it were fact.

"What're the demands?" You inquire, leaning onto your forearms that rest atop the chilly black granite countertop. Sam's sigh fills the silence as Bucky's eyes scan over the webpage, presumably looking for the information you'd asked for.

"I have the will to complete this mission," Zemo speaks up. "Do the three of you?" Everyone's attention shifts upon this question. All eyes on the Baron. You're left speechless as your minds churn through the question and possible different answers and outcomes.

"She's just a kid," Sam points out.

"You're seeing something in her that isn't there," Zemo rebuttals, "You're clouded by it. She's a Supremacist. The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It's that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers."

You can see where he's coming from. Not just because of his family, but because of the articles that'd come out time and time again. The posts people would write from foreign countries detailing the way that the Avengers coming in to stop whatever malevolent threat they'd been sent in to defeat only seemed to cause more damage. The fights might've caused more destruction than if they hadn't shown up at all. Now, whether that was true or not was up for debate, but the fact that many people suffered due to collateral damage is entirely real.

It'd been swept under the rug for as long as it could, but things certainly changed after Zemo took action, and after the Blip. People don't have the same politically dutiful leashes they'd once had on their opinions.

"Hey, those are our friends you're talking about," Sam argues.

"The Avengers, not the Nazis," Bucky corrects.

"Thanks for clarifying," you joke. It wasn't really necessary, as you'd figured who they were inferring, but nevertheless, Bucky's need to clarify was amusing. "But how can you be sure? That she's not still a child?" You play devil's advocate.

"So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her," Sam thinks aloud.

"And if there's not?" You question him, "I'm not saying we don't try it first, but, if worse comes to worst?"

"The desire to become a Superhuman cannot be separated from Supremacist ideals," Zemo answers your question. "Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her," he pauses, "or she kills you."

"Maybe you're wrong, Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve," Bucky contends, arms crossed as he now leans against the wall directly across the counter from the Baron.

"That's a good point," you mutter under your breath as you're intent to hear what the Baron comes up with in response.

"Touché," Zemo agrees, "but there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?" Wagging his fingers for emphasis, you can't help but be distracted by the fact that it's poked through the hole in a shortbread-looking cookie. Or, as you'd guess they're called here: biscuits. The two circle each other, Zemo rounding the counter until he's across from you opening the cabinets while Bucky rounded the other way, now somewhere behind you.

"Well, maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now," Bucky posits.

"And you'll give up your tour guide?" Oof, Zemo was quick with the comeback on that one, you'll give it to him.

"Yes," Bucky answers with zero hesitation.

"So you're planning on killing her then?" You question Zemo, who has his back turned to you as he rifles through the cabinet he's just opened.

"From my understanding-" Sam begins to speak.

"It's the only way to stop her. You'd let her kill you first?" He tosses the hypothetical situation back on you. Without so much as a glance in your direction, clearly unphased by the content of your conversation.

"Donya is like a pillar of the community, right?" Sam continues his line of thought, unbothered by your little dissection of ideology with Zemo.

An uncomfortable chuckle escapes you. "No? I mean..." Unable to truly come up with a satisfactory response, you switch gears and turn, listening to Sam instead.

"Exactly," Zemo responds with an air of triumph, a quiet and amused scoff leaving his lips.

"So when I was a kid, my TT passed away," Sam explains.

"Your TT?" Bucky questions, head lolled back as he listens from the couch now. A pained expression crosses his features as he finally rights his head and looks back at Sam.

"Yeah," Sam delights, "my TT, yeah."

"Who is your TT?" Bucky specifies.

"Yeah, who is...?" You quietly probe, a little lost despite not having missed anything.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Fine," he concedes. You know he's not really annoyed, but it'd be easier if he didn't have to explain. "When I was a kid, my Aunt passed away. And, the entire neighborhood got together for a ceremony. It was like a week long," he explains, a far off look overtaking his features as he remembers. "Maybe they're doing the same thing for Donya."

"Worth a shot," Bucky encourages.

"Your TT would be proud of you," Zemo comments, though the way he'd said it definitely sounded more akin to something vulgar than what he'd intended. This elicits another smile you try to contain as you shake your head. Maybe he's just trying to get a reaction out of them, you ponder.

Finally taking a moment to let your eyes wander, you can't help but ogle the Baron a bit. From where you're standing you can only barely see that beneath the navy robe he's got on a pair of white silken pants, which... wow. You don't think you've ever even seen silk pants before, but, they certainly bring out the color of his hair. As he turns, the glimmer of a square pendant sits in the middle of his exposed chest. It's a pretty silver necklace, you'll admit, though the sight of his auburn chest hairs only elicits flashes of memory from the night before.

An earnest gasp leaves your parted lips at the particularly hard thrust he gives you. Nails slightly digging into his shoulders, you're breathing hard, sweat covering your chest, sweat running down his temple. While he isn't toned in the same way Bucky or any body builder is, he's still muscular. The strength with which he holds himself up over you, and grips your hip with his free hand is enough of an indicator.

While moans pour past your lips, groans and grunts slipping out of his, you can't help but admire him. Is it so wrong that you're doing this? It doesn't feel wrong. In fact, it feels like everything you've been missing the past few years. The way he touches you, looks at you, fills you... it's ecstatic. And, sure, maybe your judgment is clouded by the tangled knot that's already building in your lower stomach. Yet, you can't help it. Was evil, as they call him, always so beautiful?

Leg hooking itself around his hip, you open yourself up just enough for him to be able to hit that spot. "Helmut, I-" your voice comes out far more desperate than you'd like. You'd both fully lost your composure some time ago during the first round. Now, your fingers run through his chest hair while you gaze up at him, taking in the way his hair is mussed, his skin sheens with sweat, and beauty marks litter his face. "Блят!" He curses under his breath, and you know he's getting close too. "Cum for me, Schatz."

"Turkish Delight," Zemo announces, wiggling a wrapped piece between his fingers before tossing one to Sam. Blinking a few times, you do your best to return to the present. The Avenger catches it swiftly, inspecting it in his hand while you turn your attention back to Zemo. He pours a bunch of the--What are they? Candies?--out from a rusty silver tin onto the counter, the ornate symbol on it catching your eye. "Irresistible," he describes, winking in your direction.

With a smile on your lips all you can do is shake your head at his discreet teasing as you grab a pink piece from the pile on the counter. "These are the things from Narnia, right? Turkish Delight," you question, unwrapping the crinkly clear plastic to hold the plush candy between your fingers.

"Oh my God," Sam enunciates each word before he exclaims with a laugh, slapping the counter gently. "I haven't thought about that in ages!"

"Narnia?" Bucky questions, a quirked brow of confusion on his face. He looks between you and Sam for clarification.

"It's a children's book, though I do not remember the reference," Zemo explains, obviously intrigued.

"In the movie-" you begin.

"-Based off the book," Sam interrupts to add, popping the treat into his mouth.

"-one of the kids gets, sort of... manipulated?" You question what word is best a descriptor considering it's been awhile since you've seen it. "By the witch, because she offers him whatever he wants for his loyalty, and to rat out his sibling's location or something, basically their lives, and out of everything in the whole world, he picks Turkish Delight!" You explain with a chuckle at the thought.

"Though I think it's because it was during the war and they didn't really have food like that, but yeah- it doesn't come across in the movie at all!" Sam offers more insight.

"Makes sense," Bucky comments lamely with a shrug as he opens his own candy.

"Well, we can go once this one's dressed," Sam remarks somewhat passive-aggressively with a left-turn comment.

"Well, if you give me a moment, I'll be happy to meet you at the door," Zemo retaliates somewhat sarcastically, leaving a somewhat soured and tense vibe between everyone in the room. Back to business, you guess.

-------

You try not to ogle him when he comes back in a fuchsia turtleneck sweater that fits a little too snug, and a long black trench coat with a fur-lined collar. The entire ensemble is all too reminiscent of the night two days ago when you'd landed in Madripoor.

While you weren't exactly sure where you all were going, Zemo seemed to have a good idea once Bucky had shared the location of the Supply Depot. It might've been somewhat of a trust exercise on all your behalves to blindly follow the socialite down the winding, peeling streets of Riga, yet nevertheless somewhat of an adrenaline inducing adventure in your mind.

Having just come through a set of steel double doors, you try not to feel anxious as the gate shuts behind you. Trailing along the Baron's side, you read the posters on the walls.

"Shame what's become of this place," he states, making conversation. As you open your mouth to ask what he means, Zemo expands. "When I was young we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties. I knew nothing of the politics of the time, of course, but I remember it being beautiful."

While part of you is curious to ask the Baron questions, there's a more pressing matter at hand.

'RESET.

RESTORE.

REBUILD.

Global Repatriation Council.'

Reading the poster pasted along the white walls of the courtyard, you can only imagine what you're going to be up against.

"I'm gonna take a look upstairs," Sam announces, "See what you can find out here." Tearing your gaze from the poster you finally meet the man's gaze. "And keep an eye on him." There's no need to extrapolate, it's obvious he means the Baron. You assume dual responsibility, even if he might've been directing it toward Bucky and not necessarily you.

A nod in your friend's direction, Sam parts from the group stepping through a set of glass-paned double doors, allowing you three reign of the courtyard. "I'll stay out of your way," Zemo announces, lifting his gloved hands in a defensive gesture as he takes a step further into the area. You don't miss, however, the glare Bucky gives the Baron, and the devilish smile the man displays behind the Soldier's back.

All around you people seem busy with their activities, some hanging wet laundry up on lines to dry, some washing and cutting vegetables at tables, while others huddle in a corner and whisper to your right. Out of your periphery you can spot Bucky approaching the people laundering on your left. "Donya?" He posits, to no response. "No?"

With your more friendly demeanor, and being a woman, you decide to take a stab at it. Cautiously approaching the people on your right, many disperse from their conversation in search of something to do, no doubt. The woman and man that remain, you sidle up against. "Excuse me," you speak softly, "do you know where Donya Madani's reception is going to be?"

The woman appears meek, her stringy hair held back by a ribbon, hands coming up to her chest. She simply shakes her head while the man at least offers you an answer. "No," he responds, "We don't trust outsiders." Turning his back on you, he returns to conversation with the woman, ultimately shutting you out. Your lips purse in retaliation, and while you might attempt to argue and question why he thinks you're an outsider any other time, you know they'd seen who you'd come in with.

Mind churning through different tactics, it isn't until you spot Zemo halfway across the courtyard that you know he's most likely up to no good. He won't get a chance to escape, not on your watch. With bigger strides than you're used to, you stalk after him as discreetly as you can without straight up chasing him.

"Yes, sir~ yes, sir, three bags full~" the Baron is reciting some sort of rhyme you're not familiar with in a tone that's far too ominous for your taste. "One for my master, one for the dame~" He's certainly garnered the attention of the children, and while they've stopped playing, he's pulled out a small wooden stool from their accompanied small table. "One for the little girl who lives down the lane~"

Attempting to appear busied, you kick at the cobblestone beneath your feet, keeping a short distance between yourself and the man before you who crouches in front of the stool, spilling the contents of a paper bag he'd produced onto it. Ah.... The sly bastard. An assortment of the temptingly colorful candies plop onto the stool. It's something you're sure the children haven't seen in a long time, judging by the looks of this place. And as a child, who can resist something like that? If anything, he'd taken your comment about Narnia a little too seriously.

"Turkish Delight," you hear Zemo state, though your eyes are fixated on the statue of Poseidon behind the group of children. It's intriguing to you that he'd thought to bring the candy in the first place. How did he know there were going to be children here? "It was always my son's favorite." For some reason the admission pings at your heart. Why? You aren't too sure. Maybe it's the way it was easy to forget he had a family. At least... you hadn't remembered reading about him being a father. Yet, the revelation leaves a sorrowful feeling in your stomach. You know you never would've spent that night together if they were alive.

Motion draws your attention back to the scene at hand, and you can't help but shove your hands in your pockets. The blonde haired girl grabs one of the candies, unafraid as she'd been the only one of them to approach. "My old friend, Donya, passed away," Zemo lies, "Did you know her?" Biting your lip, you can't help but watch, impressed, by his tactic. Of course the children will know. They hear everything, and considering the taboo subject, and their naivety, will most likely respond to his white lie.

The girl tentatively nods. "Yes," she answers, fingers anxiously twirling the candy back and forth in her little fingers by either end of the plastic wrapping.

"I would like to pay my last respects," he continues, "Do you know where her funeral will be?" Wow, you mentally laugh to yourself. He's using the exact same tactic you were going to use! You might not have went with 'old friend', but rather, someone you knew. Mentor, perhaps? Contact? Regardless, the 'paying your last respects' bait is exactly what you would've claimed if only the adults had indulged your conversation a bit longer.

Moment of truth. The little girl nods again, though this time he simply points to his ear before she's skipping to his side and whispering. Unfortunately, he's too far away for you to make out what she's saying. Eyes drifting back to the statue, you can't help but wonder why such a beautiful piece of art is sitting here, in a secluded cobblestone courtyard, of all places. As far as you'd known, Latvia wasn't partial to Greece's Polytheistic beliefs.

Suddenly, Zemo's standing, towering over the children as he tells them something in a hushed voice. Tempted to get closer, you're about to make a move when his actions bring you to a halt. Fingers twisting in front of their lips, they tacitly make a bond you're familiar with. Secrets; sealing your mouth with the key and throwing it away. With a handover of the Turkish Delight, the Baron turns on his heels and strides back the way you'd come. It's then that you rejoin him.

"You just got it, didn't you?" You question, Sam and Bucky appearing in your periphery up ahead.

The Baron says nothing as he tucks his hands into his coat's pockets and shrugs. "Cute kids," he finally states. That's all the answer you know you're going to get, begrudgingly.

"Head back?" Sam suggests, hands shoved in his pockets as the breeze begins to pick up in the alley.

"We should be seen as little as possible," Bucky states. Though, you know he must mean it in agreement, it'd simply come across awkward and unrelated if you hadn't picked up on his communication style awhile back.

--------

Entering the apartment once again, Zemo heads for the kitchen with a determination that makes you think twice about where his motives lie and what he could possibly be planning, while Bucky stomps into the living room, Sam close behind.

"Well, I got nothing," Bucky admits defeat. "No one's talking about Donya."

As you follow Bucky and Sam to the couch, you remain standing while they each take a seat. You cross your arms over your chest.

"They don't trust outsiders. Know better than to confide in people speaking English," you comment. Eyes drifting over to spot Zemo rifling through the cabinets and rooting around the kitchen, preoccupied with God knows what. He knows something, yet isn't saying anything. Nevertheless, as Sam's voice fills the living space your attention falls back to the conversation at hand.

"Yeah, it's because Karli is the only one fighting for them," Sam points out. Bucky sighs at the information. "And she's not wrong."

"What do you mean?" Bucky questions, eyes landing on your friend.

"For five years people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbwire. There were houses and jobs," he explains.

"Yeah, it was actually pretty nice," you agree. "You don't know?" Settling on Bucky's features for a moment, you're only met with a tense look upon his face and cold eyes. That gives you enough of an answer. He was a victim of the Snap, too? You never would have guessed.

"Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild," Sam continues, "It wasn't just one community coming together, it was the entire world coming together... and then, boom," he snaps his fingers together, "Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them, at least Karli's doin' somethin'."

"Which is better than anything the government's doing," you add.

"You really think her ends justify her means?" Bucky posits.

"Mm-mm," Sam shakes his head in response to your comment, clearly not wanting to get into that can of worms. And you aren't entirely sure how to answer the heavy hitting question.

"Then she's no different than him or anybody else we've fought," Bucky points out.

Eyes shifting between Bucky and Zemo, you're unsure why that's necessarily a bad thing. While you've known how Sam sees Zemo's actions, and you'd thought Bucky's alignment fell somewhere in-between... you're starting to think he and Sam are more alike than you'd previously thought. As you open your mouth to debate Bucky's question, your friend beats you to it.

"She's different," Sam retorts without hesitation. "She's not motivated by the same things."

As Zemo approaches from your right, you can't help but notice he's got a tray in his hands. Some kind of pink tea sits within a see-through teapot, a couple of teacups atop their tiny plates joined by spoons lie around it.

"That little girl," Bucky states, "What'd she tell you?" The question elicits a suspicious look between the Baron and the three of you. It's obvious he's weighing his options. Setting the tray down upon the round table, he finally meets the Soldier's eyes again.

"The funeral is this afternoon," Zemo reveals. A hint of a small smirk tugs at the corner of your lip as you'd just known that tactic would work. While you may be a little jealous you hadn't thought of it first, you can't deny it was smart, and you'd known it'd pay off as soon as you saw him talking to her and realized what he was doing.

However, you can't help but notice the way he answers calmly. Cool, and collected, it's obvious he's trying to bide time. Think of a way out of this.

"You know the Dora's coming for you any minute," Bucky threatens, not having taken his eyes off the Baron since the man approached. "In fact, they're probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking." This little tidbit of information causes you to unintentionally whip your head around to stare out the thin windows lining the apartment's front door. Like you'd realistically see someone standing right there.

Even if you don't know who the Dora are, the imminent threat looms over all of your heads, not just Zemo's.

"Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli," Zemo hums in thought, "I prefer to keep my leverage." Fingers running over the smooth ceramic cup he holds within his hands, you don't question things as Bucky gets up and rounds the table before you. In an instant the Soldier's throwing it, the ceramic smashing against the wall behind the Baron. You both flinch, albeit subtly, as your eyes widen.

"You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?" Bucky taunts, taking a step closer to the Baron and eliciting you and Sam's action. While you're reaching toward Bucky, Sam's standing across from him, looming over the table like he's ready to intervene if need be.

"Take it easy," Sam warns.

"It's fine," you add on. If there's anything you've picked up on from Zemo, it's that he's just as intent on getting to Karli as the two of your guys' are.

"Don't engage him," Sam advises, "He's just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing,"

Funnily enough, Zemo straightens his posture having realized he was, in fact, tilting his head. Something, you have to pride Sam for having recognized. You certainly hadn't noticed. "Let me make a call," Sam excuses himself. Rounding the table, he pats Bucky on the back on his way out. Despite this, the men continue to stare one another down like some sort of fight for male dominance.

"You want some Cherry Blossom tea?" Zemo offers. A lame attempt at deescalating the heightened tension in the room.

A sneer displays itself across the Soldier's face. "No, you go ahead," he refutes, turning and storming off. While you deliberate on following, having even taken so much as a step or two, you give up. Considering you don't know the man that well, there's no way he'd ever care to listen to what you have to say.

You don't miss the way Zemo audibly, albeit faintly, releases an exhale. A sigh slips past your own lips and your eyes finally fall down to the tea in question. "Cherry Blossom?" You ask, amusement unhidden in your tone.

"It's a delicacy," Zemo quips without so much as a beat. The man shrugs before walking back over to the kitchen, to which, you follow.

"Sure," you respond, "I mean, I don't know, but, it sounds good." Now for your lame attempt at reducing the tension.

"Would you like some?" He asks, though his tone sounds somewhat rhetorical as he grabs a kitchen towel off the counter and turns on his heels to look at you, no apparent expression on his face besides indifference.

This takes you aback, and you try to contain the surprised look on your face when you mentally and verbally flail. "I- I mean-" you shake your head as you try to gather your rationale, "-if you're having some, then sure? Yeah, I guess it wouldn't hurt."

Your reaction elicits a faint chuckle from the man as he flings the towel over his shoulder, walking back your way toward the spill. It feels oddly both exhilarating somehow and ominous the way your shoulders brush against one another unintentionally when he passes. He doesn't stop or turn to look back at you, but simply kneels before the mess and begins to clean it up, which gives you pause.

In the silence your mind reels, yet you can't seem to stop yourself from voicing the thoughts bouncing around up there. "What do you think you're going to get?" Your voice is calm, cool, and collected. Everything he'd been only moments before Bucky had burst. It's simply a question that's been churning over and over in your mind for the past few hours.

Even if he's turned from you, the brief pause of his movement gives way to how you've rattled him. "The same thing as you," he answers, the sound of glass gently scraping against the tiled floors is all the sound you need to know he's regained his assuredness.

Only, this time you're the one stumped for an answer. Mouth opening and closing for a split-second as you search for a grasp on his meaning, you know there's no way he's serious. "What do you mean?" Fingers playing with the hem of your borrowed sweater, you hope your deciphering of his words is wrong, for many reasons.

The man before you slowly rises to a stand, his figure towering over yours as he turns, green eyes peering down at you with something cynical beneath the surface. "You're in the same boat as Sharon. Hoping for a pardon," he answers confidently, eye contact unwavering as that mischievous glint in his eye makes you feel vulnerable under his gaze. "Assuming I've picked up on your situation correctly, of course."

In this silent stare down you're the first to break, again, as your eyes shift aside the both of you in search of a decent response. When nothing comes to mind, a sigh escapes you. That's when he walks off, leaving you standing there alone. Whatever heat had been emitting from him in droves simply fades like he was never that close to begin with. "You're... not wrong," you reply, watching him dispose of the glass in the trash as you still stand between the living room and kitchen.

"So you're not the good girl you portray yourself as," Zemo diverts, the topic evolving into something you weren't prepared for. When his eyes raise to meet yours from behind the island, you can't help but search within his gaze for what prompted this, his innuendo quite overt.

"I never pretended to be someone I'm not," you bite back. This time there's no hesitancy or submissiveness in your voice. Turning on your heels, you head for the couch. Bucky still isn't back from the bathroom yet. Who knows? Maybe he went off to find Sam and relay plans without you in whatever room the man went off to for his phone call.

"I cannot say I did not doubt you," Zemo comments as he approaches once more, another cup in hand this time. "However, your tenacity was admirable in the ship yard." The man lifts his teapot up, pouring the pink liquid into their respective cups.

An eyebrow quirks in response. You're not sure how to take his words, or what his intent is, however you decide to take him at his word. "Tell me what you really think," you joke, ultimately deciding to let go of whatever indignation his comment had brewed internally. Because, why would you care about his opinion? Would it be because he'd almost gotten away with one crime? With an assassination? Or for creating a divide amongst friends? I don't think so.

It certainly wasn't because you'd slept with him. If you'd been fishing for compliments or praise, you wouldn't do half the things you do. The way you acted with him, you never pretended. At least that was honest. You're not so sure you can think the same of him anymore.

Silence settles between you for a moment. Only the sound of liquid pouring into the china resounds through the open room. "May I ask," he speaks, pausing in his actions as you can see him mentally gauging how to word whatever's on his mind. Placing the teapot back in its spot on the tray, his eyes give you a once over. "Why is it that you're not as angry with me? I cannot say that their ire has ever been subtle in the least."

The glance he'd spared in the direction Bucky had taken off leaves you with an exact understanding of what he's asking: 'Everyone else is against me. Why aren't you?' There's one thing in admitting that you don't trust him; something that wouldn't surprise him, you're sure. However, angry? No. You're not angry with him.

"Besides the fact that you haven't personally wronged me, for one," you begin, eyes shifting toward the block of couch between you. "Not everyone holds the same sentiment for our country as they do." Looking off in the direction your friends had gone, you know it's a hard truth.

Sharon may joke about them being poster boys for the United States government, and Bucky may not always agree with, or support, their endeavors. But, ultimately, isn't that exactly what they are? Even if only to some degree? After everything you'd endured on its behalf, it'd be hard to say that it didn't at least open your eyes a little toward what values the country truly stands on its feet for.

"They're just extra loud about their beliefs," you attempt to joke, diluting the reality beneath your conversation, and deescalate the tension. With a soft chuckle, you finally meet the Baron's eye again. He isn't smiling or frowning, however the look within his eyes is the only solace that there's an understanding between the two of you.

At least there's that. Someone who isn't afraid to actually weigh the reality of the circumstances.

"You are not wrong about that," Zemo 'tsks', a faint smile finally spreading across his lips as he lifts the china glass to his lips. You follow suit, having let it cool down for a moment. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind had you also potentially worried about poison. However, if he's drinking it then it should be fine... right? "It is unfortunate, however, how many people do not realize the seemingly mundane is the dogma they're being blindly fed," he says between sips. "What do you think?"

Blinking, you're met with his intent expression, unsure how to respond. He hadn't given you any time to mentally piece together a response or comment! "I... don't-"

Zemo laughs wholeheartedly; wrinkles form beside his eyes and he's bent over his lap, careful not to spill his tea. You're befuddled. You don't know how to react or what to do, or even what was so funny? Yet, you'd be lying if you said if his laughter wasn't contagious, or that you chuckle a little in confusion over the whole situation. It'd be a downright depressing question if you were left wondering if and when the last time he'd laughed like that was. That thought doesn't cross your mind in the moment, fortunately.

"I meant about the tea," he finally explains, clueing you in on the amusement of the situation. Your expression of realization must be funny considering the way it starts up his laughter again. And, the fact that it's the type of laughter that makes your stomach hurt from the muscles working overtime, to the way your cheeks also ache in conjunction after unconsciously smiling for so long is something you can only be jealous of. For, when's the last time you'd experienced that?

"Oh!" You facepalm with your empty hand, slightly embarrassed, hoping your cheeks aren't flushing with it. "I-it's good! Yeah, I like it," you reply, unable to help yourself from smiling down at the pink liquid still filling a little less than half of your cup. "It's really..." you try to think of the best word to describe it.

"Refreshing?" He posits.

You find yourself unconsciously smiling in his direction upon his response. "That's a good word for it! Sweet, and somehow, like... a little crisp? But, refreshing, yeah!"

"Is he doing his standup routine for you?" Sam questions as he strolls into the living room with purpose in his stride.

"Had plenty of time to practice in prison," Bucky grumbles in Sam's pursuit, loud enough for everyone to hear, yet quiet enough for it to be considered an intrusive thought.

As you look in their direction, you can't help but smile a little wider at their joke. Even if they don't realize it, Bucky and Sam definitely have a similar humor. One only amplifying the other. "Uh, no? He just said something I misunderstood and it was funny," you correct and inform them. Though you're sure they couldn't care less.

"Not everyone aspires to become a comedian," Zemo retorts, "even if most people of your--well, one of your--generations seem to wish to be." The man crosses his legs, body squared off toward theirs on the couch.

"Wow, what an original one," Bucky says snarkily. The solider crosses his arms, his routine stoicism having returned.

"You had some?" Sam asks, eyes flitting between you and the cherry blossom tea.

"Yeah! It's actually really nice," you perk up, glad someone else isn't brooding or feuding in this room. It's truly been enough of a testosterone-fest the past few days to last you years!

"I'll have to get some later then," Sam comments with a seemingly genuine excitement to try something from another culture.

"Yeah, just jot it down on the bucket list," Bucky remarks sarcastically.

"Okay, well, I just heard from Sharon," Sam relays, hands gesticulating as he starts to explain the plan, effectively ignoring Bucky's attitude. "She's got an eye on our back so we're not going in blind, but we still need to be hypervigilant going in there."

"Prepared for anything," Bucky reinforces the idea. You're still not entirely convinced they're not set on killing the girl. At least, you're confident that Sam isn't.

As Sam pans over the basic plan, you can't help but worry about how everything's going to realistically play out. It's all good and easy to pretend everyone has a conscience and that Karli will simply hand over the rest of the Super Solider serum she has, but you doubt that's the case. She won't go quietly.

"Your job is to secure the vials and safely escort them out of the hot zone. You're the only one who can decipher how Nagel was pulling this stunt off and if the Power Broker's planning on doling out this stuff on a mass scale, then we sure as shit need this in the right hands." Sam explains to you. It's the first time you truly realize the gravity of your job in this mission. "With that outta the way-"

"Where is this thing?" Bucky asks pointedly as he stares down Zemo, no amusement to be found on his face. Straight to business, as always. Can't say you'd expect less from the man, unfortunately.

--------

Sidling up against Sam, you do your best to keep up with the men's speedy walk. Your legs aren't as long, and you make up for it by attempting to take bigger strides.

"Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit." The vaguely familiar voice garners all your group's attention as you follow Zemo to the leveraged meeting spot. It's that guy- the new Captain America. What was his name again?

He and his friend scamper down the stairs a few yards directly in front of your group.

"Ah!" Bucky exclaims with arms wide open. "How'd you find us now?" For some reason, he doesn't actually sound upset this time? At least, not truly.

"Come on," the Captain's friend answers. "You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?" Well, he's got you there. Word spreads fast in towns like these.

"No more keeping us in the dark," the Captain demands, "You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison." The blonde-haired man turns his frustration on the Baron.

While you're not entirely sure what the Captain is referring to, it's obvious there's history between the men. What's more bothersome, is the way you notice someone just over their shoulder--a teenager--begin to record on his phone. It's obvious, the kid isn't even trying to hide it, granted... if you saw a celebrity out in public, would you do the same?

"He did that himself, technically," Bucky responds.

It's clear that's not what the Captain wanted to hear. The anger in his face is exacerbated by the pinch between his brows and the way he hasn't stopped encroaching on you all despite the rather close proximity he's gaining. "Ah, this better be an unbelievable explanati-"

"Hey, take it easy before it gets weird," Sam warns. With the way the Captain was gesticulating wildly, you'd say it already has, though you're not sure how best to contribute and deescalate the quickly escalating situation.

"I know where Karli is," Zemo explains. A quick look around shows you that multiple groups of people have stopped walking and are beginning to stare. This isn't good. You were supposed to be as discreet as possible, and that's already hard when you're in the company of three well-known people.

"Guys, people are watching," you whisper, gaze shifting over to the two staring each other down. The Baron grimaces for only a moment before attempting to slink around the Captain, who stops him with a hand placed on his chest.

"Well, where?" the Captain demands.

"All we know is, it's a memorial," Sam informs. Yet, despite the initial focus on Zemo, the man in question is looking past him for something. What's he looking for? Following his gaze, you don't spot anything. "So we're gonna intercept her there." Granted, your attention is quickly back on the men as they continue to plan.

"That means civilians. High risk of casualties," the Captain's friend announces. As Zemo manages to slip around the Captain, you follow, the rest of the group's footsteps behind you as they do the same.

"Good, that means we move fast, take her by surprise," the Captain comments.

"That's not the plan," you argue, not bothering to look over your shoulder.

"No, I wanna talk to her alone," Sam quips as well, the two of you unwilling to let things slide into a frenzy. No doubt something more than likely with the new poster-boys of the US Government on your tail.

"I'm not losing her again," the Captain states definitively.

"Look, the person closest to her died," Sam points out, "She's vulnerable. Now if there's any time to reason with her, it's now."

"What? No!" All of the sudden the Captain is jogging beside you until he's almost in front of you. "Wait, no! No! Stop," he holds his hands out as he steps directly in front of your group's path. "Hold on. Stop, okay? I think we're way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot the fact that she blew up a building with people in it."

"Of course you'd say that," you bite. From the past you've always known soldiers to be the quickest to anger, and the quickest to escalate. Nothing can ever end peacefully with them.

"Sam, you walk in there cold, she could kill you," his buddy is pointing out.

"What is that supposed to mean, exactly?" The Captain hones in on you this time.

"And if I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die," Sam argues.

"Exactly- there's no room for error here," you add.

"Are you gonna let him do this?" The Captain turns his attention to Bucky, now. "Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a super soldier alone?" Silence fills the street for only a moment.

"He's dealt with worse. And he's not my partner," Bucky answers. Out of your periphery you can spot Zemo looking around again, and this time you're irritated. It was one thing having the US Government's ponyboy delaying your prime opportunity at ending things civilly, but now the Baron's looking for an escape route? Frowning in his direction, you can't help but follow his gaze again out of precaution. Only this time you see what he's been looking for.

"I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay?" Sam informs, "This is right in my wheelhouse." As your friend rounds Bucky to get closer to the Captain, you can only be grateful someone's intervening.

"Yeah, I know," the Captain responds. "And I know those soldiers which is why I know this is a bad idea."

"Aren't you supposed to be the image of diplomacy? Don't you think that's a bad strategy and a bad look?" You prod. If no one'll say it, someone has to. It's worth a thought, at least.

"Wait, John," the Captain's friend speaks. So that's his name! Definitely American, and an eerily perfect name for someone who'd represent America. Not that you're a fan. "She's not wrong. If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try."

John, as you now know, seems to consider this as he scoffs under his breath. With a shake of his head, he finally looks to Zemo. "We'll deal with you later," he warns.

"I'm sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion," the Baron replies, palms outward in a placative gesticulation. "my associate is just up ahead," he informs, gesturing up the path. It's the girl. The same one from the GRC encampment you'd visited earlier. The only child brave enough to speak to him, to earn the Turkish Delight for the rest of them.

This time it's you who can't keep it together as an amused breath leaves your lips. "Associate?" You question quietly, peering up at him.

Zemo meets your gaze for a moment, a sort of twinkle in his eye as he offers a half-hearted shrug. "Associate," he doubles down. The Baron rounds John's friend and takes the lead. Following suit, you know Bucky and Sam aren't far behind, while John and his friend dawdle after.

While the girl has a trepid look on her face, she doesn't back away. "Hello, my friend," Zemo greets, "this is for your family." You don't see what it is at first, only that he takes something out of his coat pocket and gives it to her. It's only as she tucks it away that you can make out the note. Euro? Pound? You're not sure what currency Latvia uses, but you did spot the five hundred mark on it. "Can you show us the way?"

The girl waves him over, and a quick look over your shoulder lets you know everyone's now on board with the mission.

"What the hell," you hear John murmur from the back. Truthfully, you'd questioned Zemo's method at first too. Even if you'd had a similar line of thought, there wasn't any guarantee it'd work out. The girl could've easily taken the Turkish Delight and had been done with the whole thing. Money, though? Definitely something people could use right now; especially if that place you'd been to was where she lived.

Luckily, the trip isn't long. The building just up ahead had been the right destination, but the girl takes you around the side and through a back door that leads to what you can only assume is a bakery. Or maybe it was an electrical station? A laundry house? Crematorium? You're unsure, really. Within the room there's another set of tiled stairs that leads to somewhere else. The girl opens the metal door and turns back to all of you, pointing up the extra set of stairs within.

"Karli's in there," Zemo states, as if a translator was needed.

"All right," Sam comments, heading after the girl up the stairs. Contemplating quickly rediscussing the plan with Sam, you take a few steps before a groan brings your attention back. John has Zemo pushed up against one of the ovens.

"Hey," John calls out to Sam, "you got ten minutes-"

"Really?" Zemo asks, evidently annoyed. The sound of handcuffs fills the silent room, and you can't say you're unsurprised by John's actions.

"-then we're doing things my way," John threatens.

"Aggressive," the Baron comments, eyeing John with a dangerous look in his eye, "but I get it." When he smirks, you can't help but look away. Whether it's the reminder that this man is conniving, or that you'd given yourself up to him in the most intimate of ways, you're uncertain. Really, that night he'd been the complete opposite of everything everyone who'd warned you about Zemo claimed him to be.

You're not unlike any other girl. Everyone likes it rough from time to time, and the thought that perhaps maybe he does too might stir something within you. It's... something you're unwilling to give thought to at the moment. Nevertheless, it'd been a one night stand; you're well aware of the man that he is, the man you've witnessed incapacitate multiple men. How you feel about that, on the other hand, is something you've yet to give yourself time to determine.

Sitting on the stairs, you've given up noticing all the small details within both the room you're in, and what you can see of the adjoining one. Bucky leans against the railing beside you, while John and his friend lean against the wall across from where Zemo stands, still handcuffed to the oven.

It's been quiet, though you'd tried to make small talk here and there to no fruitful discussion. From time to time you could feel Zemo's eyes on you, or Bucky spare a glance, but it was only natural considering sitting still in silence for ten minutes gives you limited options. Besides, it's not like you hadn't gazed over them once or twice either.

Now John's pacing, and you know that can't be good considering soldier's, as you know, are notorious for their impatience. Meeting Bucky's gaze, you offer a nervous look, to which he imperceptibly shakes his head. 'It's nothing to be worried about' is what his eyes say. Even if you both know that's a lie.

While Zemo's fingers bend and shift subconsciously clueing you into the fact that he's deep in thought, you find yourself too, starting to really ponder. And even if you can't pinpoint his thoughts, yours drift to the past seventy two hours.

The more time passes, the more John starts to pace, no longer taking breaks as he continuously walks back and forth the length of the floor. "Uh-uh," he says to himself, "no- no, no, this is a bad idea."

As he approaches Bucky again, the Soldier raises his eyes to meet John's figure, only for the Captain to back away again. You almost miss it, the way Zemo glances at his handcuffs. If you didn't know better you'd think he was only trying to eye John in his periphery, but no. No, can't be, can it? He's smarter than that. Ten minutes? Ten minutes and you're not thinking about how to get out of those cuffs? You'd be stupid to think otherwise.

As soon as the Baron's eyes shift, your eyes flick over to John. They're close enough, surely he didn't notice. Hopefully, you think.

"It hasn't been ten minutes, John," Bucky breaks the silence, "just sit tight," he advises.

"Don't do that," John argues, "don't patronize me." The agitation is evident in his tone. It's only a matter of time before a fight breaks out, you just know it. A palpable feeling in the air, a sense, or maybe just anxiety. Either way, dread starts to seep into your chest.

"He knows what he's doing," Bucky assures him. Opting to stand, your butt having started to hurt, your arms cross over your own chest. Whether it's a subconscious closing off toward the raging testosterone in the room, or an imitation of Bucky's intimidation is unknown.

"Yeah," you agree, hoping to voice some sense of calm and reassurance.

John doesn't pay any of you mind though. Standing at the end of the aisle he stares at the wall, a hardened look on his face, and it feels impossible to tell what he's thinking. All you know is it can't be good.

Just as that thought crosses your mind, John's striding back over to the two of you with determination. "I'm goin' in," he declares. Taking a step backward up onto the next step on the stairs, Bucky doesn't hesitate to throw a hand onto the man's chest, effectively blocking him.

You feel like your breath is stuck in your chest as the Captain's friend sidles up to him, both of them apparently on the same page. John's eyes slowly rise up to meet Bucky's face, having been glaring down at the impediment. "This is all really easy for you, isn't it?" The man asks.

A look of confusion crosses your face as your brows pinch together slightly. Does he mean this entire situation, or does he mean...? Bucky has been through war, you know that. He was an Avenger, too, wasn't he?

"All that serum runnin' through your veins," John continues, unknowingly answering your question. Part of you knew. You just knew what he meant, but... what did it matter? The hatred in John's eyes only further elicit more questions. Mainly, is he trying to convince Bucky to join him, or suggest that he's a part of the problem? As he looks toward the room behind you, you figure the former. "Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?"

The whole room goes silent. You know Bucky's contemplating it; you'd be lying if you said you weren't. Yet, ultimately it's another half minute before Bucky asserts that if John's going, they're all going together. One look at Zemo from both men leaves you torn. A sigh escapes your lips before you assure them you'll watch the Baron. Of course the man needs a babysitter, right? Regardless, if there's about to be a brawl then you certainly would hope, at best, to stay uninvolved.

The momentary deliberation is enough time for the men to distract Bucky as John and his friend shove their way past, the two of them taking off. Bucky follows suit. Jaw dropped, you take a few steps after them, uncertain in whether you should help Bucky stop them and let Sam handle this alone, or make sure Zemo doesn't get free.

With that, there's a metallic clinking behind you that leaves you whipping your head around. Face to face with the spoken Devil himself, he's free. "What do you think you're doing?!" It comes out louder than you'd intended, but with the way the tension's exploded in the room, you can't hold back the nerves that've been eating away at you inside.

"We have to stop Karli," Zemo asserts. As he attempts to sidestep you, you sidestep in time with him, blocking his path. "We cannot waste anymore time! If she gets away, we are all dead." There's a moment of eye contact; the determination on both of your faces surely rival one another, and while there's an unbridled anger beneath the surface of his irises, yours shifts into one of understanding upon consideration of his words.

Yet, you're not quick enough. Even if you might foolishly decide to trust him on this, which you don't, he takes advantage of your hesitancy. Hand on your shoulder, he's pushing you aside more roughly than you'd like, but not hard enough to tip you over, just enough to get you out of his way. Stumbling, you quickly regain balance before running after him.

In the span of minutes, you're running from room to room after a man who navigates the maze of a building with an uncanny sense of certainty. There's no time to question it, no time to wonder where he's going or if he's even leading you in the right direction. How would he even know? Regardless, it's only as you come to a stop in a darkened room lit only by the rays of sun streaming through the little windows atop the walls that Zemo stops.

It looks like a cellar, almost, racks with medical instruments, a table with scientific equipment laid strewn across it. You know what this is, and yet you also can't mentally process that it is what's right in front of you. Super Soldier Serum. Right here, in the flesh, sitting in a vacutainer. "How did you know-?" You question, only to be interrupted.

"Shh!" Zemo demands, pulling you into the shadows by your sleeve. The hurried sound of footsteps bounding closer and closer rings out in the cavernous room. Anxiety wells up again in your belly as there's no telling who it is. Friend, or foe? With only so many days in the boys' company, you've wound up in this situation far too often for your liking.

Both of you breathing hard, still trying to catch your breath after sprinting through the building, it's much harder to keep quiet than you would've thought. It takes the mental task of counting your breath in and out to ease the blood running through your veins.

Hidden behind a series of big pipes, his focus isn't on you as he pulls something from within his jacket. The shiny silver color of what can only be a gun reflects in the spots of sunlight streaming this far into the room. He ejects the chamber and counts the rounds. "It's not fair you get a gun," you state annoyedly. Apparently everyone else is seemingly always prepared for this, except you. Granted, this wasn't a part of the plan!

"Well, next gun you find, be my guest, Schatz," Zemo whispers, eyeing you with a look you can't place. It only lasts a moment, however, as he reloads the gun and peers around the pillar. Suddenly, there's the loud creak of a metal door opening before it slams shut, footsteps bounding down the stairs you'd seen at the front of the room when you'd been snooping.

Whoever's approaching is doing so fast, and you know you're going to have to face them. Zemo takes charge; turning the corner, he pops up, shots fired! A frustrated groan leaves the person's lips and you're quick to follow suit, popping up to see who you're up against. It's her. Shit, it's Karli! A super soldier. Shot after shot is fired and instinct drives into action.

"Stop!" You yell, beelining after him. There's a loud bang as you see the metal table topple over, everything crashing to the floor and scattering everywhere. "You can't kill her! She's just a girl!"

Just as she pokes her head out, another shot is fired. He comes to a stop just before the table, giving you more than enough time to catch up. You attempt to tackle him, jumping onto him, trying to reach around for the gun. A groan leaves him, and you struggle. The man shifts his body with enough force to toss you off and onto the ground. "Really?" He says with an obvious tone of disappointment. "You are either part of the solution, or part of the problem, Liebling! Make your choice."

"This wasn't the plan," you remind him, breathing heavy on the floor.

"Maybe not yours, but it was always the final outcome," he responds. Just as movement's heard from behind the table another shot rings out and you flinch. Springing to your feet, you grab ahold of his wrist, long enough to stall him from any further damage. "Guess you're part of the problem." Kneeing him in the thigh, you yank his arm downward with enough force for the gun to fall from his grasp. In a swift movement, Zemo turns on you, his elbow right behind.

Next thing you know, you're on the floor. Things are blurry, and your head is spinning, but you can make out the blue vials on the concrete.

"Is this what I-" you hear him say, yet it feels like you're hearing him from underwater. It feels like having to force yourself to see what's before you. The heaviness of your body and your eyelids, is far too much. It feels as though things are unfolding before you like a foreign movie, no way for you to take part, change the outcome, or even understand what's going on.

Another ringing shot resounds throughout the room and there's a series of smashing that follows. "No! No!" You hear someone cry.

--------

You'd woken with a raging headache and a barrage of questions directed your way. The room still felt like it was swaying, and while your mind raced with thoughts and answers, it was as if there was a lump in your throat. That made it hard to speak at first, and while you'd held your head, the boys moved you over to the table. Sam seemed busy on his computer while Bucky had taken over checking you out.

A few tablets later and an encouraged full glass of water downed, you feel a lot more alert. "Ow!" You exclaim, immediately turning your head to the side. "What the hell, Bucky?"

He turns off his phone's flashlight before setting the device down on the table. "At least we know it's not a concussion," he says, as if the explanation is an apology. "Really, you should be lying down."

"Was it Karli?" Sam asks, momentarily pausing his typing to tap into the conversation. His gaze is intent and serious, he wants to know whether or not she was the one who hurt you. A shake of your head leaves their expressions souring. "Then who?"

Lips pursing, you avert their gaze, considering what'll happen if you tell them the truth. Yet, you also couldn't care less what happens to Zemo. "He knocked me out," you answer quietly, eyes shifting over to the unconscious man on the couch.

"What?" Bucky practically growls, eyes darting toward the Baron.

"He was shooting at her, and I-" a breath forces itself from your lungs as you recall the recent memory, "-I tried to stop him. We got into it, and he hit me... that's all I remember before, you know." Gesturing to yourself, it's upon that realization that a thoughtful expression overtakes your features. "What happened after that?"

"Jesus," Sam curses, and you swear you can read his thoughts. The guilt is all over his face. He thinks it's his fault that this happened. "Should've known he'd try something. Why'd you-" Sam turns his anger on Bucky as the Soldier gets up.

"He was Special Forces. Makes sense," Bucky states. As he heads over to the bathroom, you figure he's exiting the conversation. It'd already been enough of a mess when John had decided that seven minutes surely equated the ten he'd promised Sam. You can't blame Bucky for distancing himself from the aftermath.

"That doesn't mean tha-" Sam argues, hand balling up into a fist on the table. "You shouldn't have had t-" he turns to you now, a much more gentle tone. Though for whatever reason, he stops himself short. Shaking his head, he looks over his shoulder at Zemo's unconscious figure with a frown before refocusing on you. "At least you did the right thing."

"We're pretty sure that John took care of Zemo considering we'd found him over both of you when we got there," Bucky explains upon returning.

"It's why we didn't immediately assume Zemo, even if I would've bet money on it," Sam adds.

You sip at the second glass of water you'd been given, not too enthused by Bucky's stoicism. Yet, when he plops back down in the chair he'd dragged before yours, both facing each other, he's folding a wet wash cloth. "Here," he offers. Despite whatever feelings are brewing within, you take the generosity.

When Zemo finally wakes, you've already caught up on everything that'd happened between Sam and Karli. The Baron's gasp elicits everyone's attention. It only takes a minute to get out of him that he'd been in the process of destroying all the Super Soldier Serum when John had apparently thrown his shield straight into the Baron's skull.

"Karma," you mutter, too out of it to fully smile, even if something more akin to a smirk displays itself on your lips.

Zemo doesn't respond for once, simple utterances of pained noises and groans escaping the man as he questions why you've been attended to, but he isn't. "After you knocked her out? I don't think so," Sam says, voice laced with incredulity.

"Even before that, yeah, it'd be a 'No'." Bucky adds, and you're not sure you entirely love that sentiment. "Guess you made it your mission to get everyone on your bad list, huh?" It's obviously a joke, you know that... yet there's something in you that contemplates his words.

Eyes shifting over toward the Baron for the second time since he'd regained consciousness, your eyes meet. There's an unspoken conversation between you; even in complete silence, telltale feelings are exchanged there. Within his hazel eyes is what you can only chalk up to a tacit question of: Is he right? There's a hint of something akin to sadness... what you'd hope is possibly regret, guilt, or an inkling of something apologetic.

Realistically, on the other hand, you know it's probably just your imagination filling in the absence of reasoning. On your end, you know there's similar feelings in yourself. The key difference is you know there's disappointment, betrayal, and hurt there, too.

It was only a fleeting moment, the eye contact, but you force yourself to close that door. Turning away, Bucky offers to get you something to eat while you attempt to relax and recuperate, lying on the window seat across the open floorplan. With that, he's off. In the tension of the room, with unspoken resentments, and disagreeing morals, another silence overtakes the apartment. Only this time, it's uncomfortable.

It's Zemo who breaks this silence. Even after he'd gotten up and poured himself a drink, along with grabbing his own wet washcloth, things hadn't lessened in their intensity. "Were you offered it?" The Baron prods. This captures your attention, though it's impossible to tell who he's asking. To make matters worse, the subject is still up in the air.

"What?" Sam responds, assuming it was for him.

"The serum," Zemo clarifies, before tacking your name onto it. "-the question extends to you as well." And you can feel his heedy stare on you.

"No," Sam answers definitively, and you can see a hint of amusement on his face from where you're lying. Understandably, it was an odd question. When you don't respond in tandem, Zemo seems to move on.

"If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you haven taken it?" The Baron takes it a step further.

"No." Sam's quick to say. There's a moment of silence, and you find your friend's gaze flicking up to you from his computer.

"No," you iterate, not having thought your response would be unobvious.

"No hesitation. That's impressive," Zemo compliments before you spot the washcloth move from his forehead, the Baron now alert. "You, however, hesitated," he points out.

"I'm tired of your questions," you bite, "that's why."

"Yet, you would consider taking it?" The Baron furthers, gaze intent on you across the room.

"Look, st-" Sam starts, attempting to pacify the friction. You'd already been drug into this because of Zemo's righteousness, and you're ready to pounce. "-op antagonizing her. You've already done enough."

"No. Being a hero is overrated," you admit, "I just wasn't expecting the question."

"I am not antagonizing," Zemo defends, something shifting in his eyes. A darkness you've begun to see more and more today, it seems.

"You knocked her out! I think you've done enough. She's on our side, and you had to go an-" Sam's interrupted.

"Karli was getting away! I could not let that happen," Zemo argues.

"Yet, you had to go and make things weird," Sam retorts, swiveling in his chair to fully face the Baron. "Fine." Hands up, it's clear he's unwilling to fight any longer. You also don't need him to fight on your behalf, but at this point you don't really want to entice more conversation from the Baron.

Zemo finally seems to accept your answers, as he sighs heavily. There's a 'tsk' followed by a shake of his head. "You two cannot hold out hope for Karli," he begins, "No matter what you saw in her. She's gone."

There's a big part of you that doesn't want to give him the floor to speak, the air to talk and spread his extremist ideals. Yet, there's another part that can understand what he's saying, and where he's coming from. Eyes flicking between the two men, it's clear Sam isn't going to interrupt, and if he isn't, you'd be damned to do so either.

"And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people. Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist." Zemo states it all with a confidence and pride that draws a heaviness to the air in the room. It's definitive, radical, and more than anything... dangerous.

All you can do is sit there, your mind drifting back to Bucky, to Steve. How easy is it to say such a thing when the one person in your group who this tirade revolves around is no longer present?

"Isn't that how gods talk?" Sam rebuttles. "And if that's how you feel, what about Bucky?" He'd taken the words right out of your mouth. Great minds think alike, you suppose. Yet, surprisingly, Zemo hasn't refuted anything so far. "Blood isn't always the solution."

The sound of a latch clicking signals the said Soldier's return. How funny, or coincidental... you're not sure which one. The man strides into the room stripping off his jacket. "Something's not right about Walker," he states. Always straight to business with this one, you think.

"You don't say," Sam quips sarcastically.

"He was a soldier," you point out with an amused breath.

"Hey," Sam says in a warning tone, eyeing you with his own mirth.

"Well, I know a crazy when I see one," Bucky comments, pouring himself a glass of something amber in nature. You can only assume it's whiskey. "Because I am crazy." Glancing toward you, it's unclear whether this joke--which you're not entirely sure it is--was due to your comment, or he's being sincere.

"Can't argue with that," Sam replies.

"Shouldn't have given him the shield," Bucky changes topics. You know what he means. John Walker is probably the antithesis of what America stands for, in your opinion. Or at least from what you'd seen of him, which, admittedly, was enough.

"I didn't give him the shield," Sam retorts, frustration ebbing into his tone as he stands from the table and heads over to confront the Soldier.

"Well, Steve definitely didn't," Bucky adds, sipping at his drink.

The sound of wood splitting and doors slamming resound loudly throughout the apartment. "All right," you know that voice, "That's it. Let's go!" It's John Walker. Speak of the Devil. "I'm now ordering you to turn him over," the Captain commands, pointing toward Zemo.

"Great, here we go again," you state annoyedly, no longer willing to hold back your judgmental thoughts. Though, the headache might have something to do with it, too. Sam immediately turns from his position at the counter, meeting the Captain and his friend halfway.

"Hey, slow your roll, Man," Sam encourages. "Let's be clear, shield or no shield the only thing you're runnin' in here is your mouth." He's never been one to sugarcoat things, that's for sure. While you'd sat up, you haven't moved from your spot on the couch at the back of the apartment.

While the men talk, you're completely aware of Zemo's movements. Carrying the decanter and his half-full glass toward you, the mental eye roll is threatening to present itself physically.

"Now, I had Karli and you overstepped," Sam continues, now pointing toward Zemo. "Now, he's actually proven himself useful today. We'll need all hands on deck for whatever's comin' next."

"How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, Sam, huh?" John questions, an ominous tone in his voice that you don't like. And while it's hard to take your eyes off the sight before you, worried about how this'll all unfold, you glance over at Bucky. The Soldier is leaning against the counter, drink in hand. He must feel your stare as he meets your eye for a split second, and you know you're both curious and frustrated at how you're more than sure the conversation will play out.

John scoffs. "Yeah, should I put down the shield? Make it fair?" The amusement bleeding into his demeanor only irks you. While cockiness can be admirable on a man, there's also a fine line between prideful and egotistical. As Sam scoffs in response, John does exactly as he'd offered and puts his shield down against the pillar by the table.

"Holy shit!" You yell much louder than you'd intended. Jumping up out of instinct, there's now a spear embedded in the pillar where John's head had just been. Everyone's eyes fall to the woman who'd thrown it.

Yet, in the second you'd spotted her, there's two more similarly dressed women striding in through the apartment's open doors with spears in hand. You might not know much about the place or their customs, but you can guess they're the Wakandans. No one else speaks as the women stop just behind John and his friend, caging them in between your opposing groups.

One of them speaks up in a language you do not recognize. While you're unsure what they're saying, it's only when you look around at everyone that they say something in English. And that, you understand: "Release him to us now." It's a command, not a request. Their eyes fall onto Zemo who stands a few feet in front of you. Of course, you realize, he'd killed their leader... hadn't he?

"Hi," John says as he turns to greet them. "John Walker. Captain America," he introduces himself. "Well, let's uh, put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this through, huh?" Oh no... what'd he just say?!

"Hey John," Sam warns, "take it easy. You might wanna fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje." And while there's a hint of amusement seeped in his tone, you know he's not joking. A glance over at the Soldier tells you that he's mentally preoccupied. For whatever reason, he won't meet their gazes. What's there? Because there's clearly some history you're unaware of.

"The Dora Milaje don't have jurisdiction here," John voices in a tone that you can only attribute to the condescension of when someone manplains something to women. So, this is the Dora that Bucky had talked about earlier, then.

"And you do?" The words fall past your lips before you can stop them. You're not sure where your sudden bravery came from, but you're unwilling to go back now. Sam and the women gaze at you momentarily, though while John doesn't divert his attention, you can see the way his hand balls up into a fist at his side.

"The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be," the woman replies in a cold and menacing tone. The clock is ticking again, and you know the countdown to a fight is fastly approaching. You can just feel it.

Regardless of whether or not what the women are describing sounds awfully similar to hitmen and vigilante justice, you don't question it. If even Sam thinks they're more of a threat than Bucky, you're concerned. Certainly not people to be trifled with. Even when the Soldier had mentioned them earlier himself, he'd sounded worried in his own way.

"Okay," John responds with a wry laugh, "Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot." It's as if things happen in slow motion. You see John going in for a pat to her shoulder when she skirts out of his grasp and knocks his hand back with her spear in hand. Next she's hitting his forehead with it before kicking him backward into the spear already embedded into the pillar, effectively clotheslining him from behind.

That's when things flip. Suddenly, things are happening fast. John's on his stomach one second, then he has his shield. The woman does a flip over him, stabbing the shield before throwing her spear toward his friend. It almost hits his head, but another woman across the room catches it swiftly, swinging it around. The third woman is leaping over the couch and targeted on the Captain's friend.

Your heart is racing, adrenaline starting to kick in as you watch in trepidation. Zemo is standing there drinking, and Sam backs up to Bucky's side. "We should do something," Sam proposes. Yet, Bucky's still standing by the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Looking strong, John," he jokes.

Wordless, you watch as the Captain's friend is being strangled by one of the woman's spears, trapped in a chokehold, while the other approaches him with her own spear at the ready. Simultaneously, John is still fighting the other woman, until he's not. On his knee, John's faced with a spear aimed right at him. Both men are teetering on the edge.

"Bucky," you hear Sam shout warningly.

It's only then as the spear's coming down on John that Bucky steps in. He says something, but you're distracted by the way the Captain's friend is in a losing fight.

"Let's talk about this," Bucky offers. As Sam steps in to protect the other man, you spot the subtle shift of Zemo's head and the way he puts down his drink. Nuh-uh. Not happening. Taking off in the direction he'd looked, you run toward the bathroom, Zemo hot on your trail.

You both knock shoulders as you make it to the door. Slipping in, he bumps you out of the way as he turns and locks the doors. "What're you doing?" He questions, a frantic look in his eye.

"I don't know!" You admit, eyes quickly searching his own for something, anything.

"If you're not here to help me, you're in my way," he warns. There's something foreboding in his tone, yet you're also highly aware that he is giving you an opportunity. "Please do not make this harder than it needs to be."

"You gonna knock me out again?" You question, a stern look on your face. No longer will you play nice.

Zemo scoffs, shaking his head as he rounds the bathtub. "I did not mean to do that. I was trying to stall you," he explains. "Help me." As he places his hands on the tub and begins to push, you might curiously question what his aim is, even if somehow you subconsciously know.

And maybe it's the fool in you, the hopeless romantic, or the little girl that could only dream of romance, passion, even simply an adventure beyond the confines of a book... but you help him. Breath held tight in your chest, it burns as you both push the tub aside, only to uncover a manhole. It'd been easier than you'd thought, but it weighed a ton.

"Honest?" You finally ask, wanting to know if any of it was real, or all a manipulation. His one chance at something good before his ultimate reprisal in prison.

"Honest," he responds, tone much gentler and sincere. Reminiscent of that night. A softness overtakes his features as he stares down at you, and you can feel the vulnerability of everything shining through your irises back at him. "Even if we disagree on the method, I believe there is more in common between us than you'd ever care to admit to them."

"I know," you whisper, taking a step closer toward him. He doesn't retreat, but stays put, his hazel eyes searching yours for something, even if you're not quite sure what.

"Unfortunately, there was never going to be another outcome," he admits, "Otherwise, I would've liked to explore," he seems to struggle for the appropriate word, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, "this."

"Me too," you reply, a sadness building within your chest and making your face feel hot for some reason.

"I'm afraid this is goodbye, Liebling." With that, he stoops, angling your face upward to meet his lips. It's a firm, chaste press of your lips against one another. Your hands find his biceps, only for him to part from you. The hand that'd been on your cheek swiftly pushes your hair backward over your ear, fingers trailing through your hair.

"Goodbye, Helmut," you whisper, watching him retreat down the ladder of metal bars into the tunnel. There's one last look shared between the two of you before he takes off. His boots thud against the concrete, splashes echoing only for a moment before a loud crash elicits a gasp from you.

Turning toward the door, you brace for it to be knocked down, landing on your knees. There's a rush of wind, and you cover your face with your arm. "Where is he?!" Lowering your arm again, your stomach sinks with dread. It's her. The leader of the Dora Milaje.

"I- I don't-" you stutter, kneeling on the ground above the opened manhole.

"You let him-" she begins to accuse, twirling her spear in hand.

"I tried to stop him!" You yell in response. "He went that way." Pointing down the hole, you can only pray she doesn't kill you here and now.

"She's on our side," Bucky calls out, causing the woman to stop. Turning, she walks back out, expression unreadable. It sits somewhere between stoicism and anger, a look eerily similar to ones you've seen on Bucky. Maybe that's where he'd gotten it from. Just a thought.

"He is gone. Leave it," the Dora commands, striding toward where you know the apartment's front door is. The other Dora throws down the shield before following suit. A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you stare down the manhole, unsure what to think. You'd just helped an international terrorist escape custody. And he kissed you!

"Did you know they could do that?" You hear Sam ask. Finally turning your attention away from what'd just happened, you stand, dusting off your pants. While many thoughts and emotions run through your body, there'll be time to process what'd just happened later.

Watching Bucky reattach his arm to his body, your lips part in shock. It'd never crossed your mind, you hadn't even thought... "No," Bucky responds, a faint groan slipping past his lips as he moves his fingers, testing his arm, you suspect.

"You alright, man?" The Captain's friend asks as he comes to stand over John's shoulder, the man still kneeling where you assume he'd been beaten down. Slowly moving to the doorway of the bathroom, you try not to let your thoughts continue to cloud your mind.

"They weren't even Super Soldiers," John points out in a defeated tone. The man's practically despondent, and you can't necessarily blame him. For someone who's supposed to be Captain America, he got his ass whooped.

"That was my question, yeah," you add, quietly. It'd crossed your mind when you'd seen that woman flip so effortlessly into the air. Considering your mission and everything that's been going on, it only made sense.

"Come on," John's friend encourages him, helping the man up off the floor.

As both Bucky and Sam approach you, you turn sideways to allow them a view of the bathroom. "I can't believe he really had an escape hatch," you state. It's earnest, even if you might've aided in permitting the escape to take place.

"I can't believe he pulled an El Chapo," Sam comments, staring at the scene.

"I can," Bucky states in his usual stoicism. "Come on," he demands.

Out on the streets of Latvia, you have no clue where Bucky's leading you all, yet you aimlessly follow anyway. A sudden ringing elicits your attention, Sam has a phone call. While you can't hear what's being said, you try to piece together what's happening based off his response to it.

"She said what?! Right. Hold on, hold on, I know," he states firmly, "I know. Listen, pack an overnight bag and take the boys. I'll text you directions later."

"What happened?" Bucky asks, and while you both stare at Sam with concern, distress evident in his voice, you hadn't had the balls to ask.

"Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews," Sam responds before lifting the phone back up again. "Okay. Go somewhere safe, only pay cash. Alright? Let me know when you get there." There's a pause, Sarah obviously having concerns. "I know. Look, I love you. I'll never let anything happen to you or the boys, you know that. Okay. Bye."

As his phone call ends, Sam comes to a halt, the three of you stepping to the side of the sidewalk. "Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number," Sam states, lifting his phone again. This time you're able to see what's on his screen. It's a text exchange with an unknown number.

'This is Sam. Sarah told me you want to talk.' reads the sent text. A ping rings out as a reply comes through. 'The rooftop above North Plaza. Now. Come alone.'

"Crap," Sam curses under his breath. With a click of his phone the screen darkens and he tucks it back into his pocket. Finally raising his head again he turns his attention to you. "Look," he states your name, "I know things didn't exactly go as planned here, but I need a favor. Go to the airport, get on a plane, and head to Louisiana." He shakes his head slightly before putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I need Buck here, and I don't know exactly how this is all gonna go down, so, if you wouldn't mind checking on Sarah for me, I'll owe you one."

It's a request. Albeit, no true upward inflection to indicate so, but... a question nonetheless. One you can't really, nor would, decline. "Yeah, I'll go, make sure they're okay." Offering him a small smile, he mirrors it back.

"Just... stay with them, if you can, till I get back. I don't think it'll be more than a few days, and, please, God, don't tell Sarah I sent you. She'd have my head! Woman can take care of herself, Lord knows," Sam chuckles at the thought.

"Got it," you respond, smile widening at the thought. Sam had mentioned her a few times, so you'd heard a few great and funny stories. Meeting her in person though? That might be another thing. Regardless, if Sam is as good of a person as he is, then she'll probably be the same.

"I'll tell her you're coming, she'll be at the airport waiting," he assures you. With that, you hug the man before eyeing Bucky. The Soldier doesn't seem like the hugging type, but you offer him a smile and nod.

"Just... talk to her. End this, and... be safe, okay?" You beg, starting to walk backward away from them.

"We'll do our best," Bucky responds, a knowing smile on his lips. With that, it seems like your time in Latvia has come to an end. Onto the next thing. Louisiana, here you come!

~~~~~~~~

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[norixseaweed]

Title: NCT 127′s Dorm Maid Chapter: 1 Genre: Smut Rated: R  Master List Next Chapter Summary: When NCT's Dorm maid falls ill, her niece takes her place and becomes NCT's new dorm maid. NCT weren't unfamiliar with the girl as she has substituted for her aunt many times before. But this time it was different, this time she was going to become their permanent dorm maid as her aunt was forced to retire because of her health. NCT members quickly grow fond of the girl, but little did she know this also meant that she was going to be a hell of a lot more busy than she expected. A/n: All my fanfics will be reposted to this page, will be getting rid of my side blog at some point! -When my aunt fell Ill she had recommended me to take over her position as a dorm maid. I was already interested in being a maid previously and I have even gone to a maid academy in England for it. Why did I go all the way to England for a maid academy you ask? I just absolutely love the idea of  being a maid. I don't know why but it had always appealed to me since I loved cleaning and I was good at it. But I am also good at other things if you know what I mean.

I hope one day maybe I could become a maid in a mansion or maybe even a royal maid. Mostly so that I could wear a cute maid uniform. My ex boyfriend told me it probably appealed to me since I enjoyed being submissive, he was probably right.

Anyway, back to my aunt. She fell ill and could no longer work, she was forced to retire. My aunt told me everything I needed to know and even had some notes for me. She told me I could move in with her to her apartment with her since she had an extra room. I packed my things and brought them over to the apartment and took my time setting up my bedroom space.

Once I was settled I plopped down onto my bed and read through the notes. I had substituted for my aunt before so I already knew who she was working for.

They were members of a popular boy group called NCT 127. To be honest I never knew who they were before, I never really looked into idols, I would just listen to whatever I thought sounded good. Of course I did have some groups and soloists that I was a big fan of, like Lee Hyori, Rain, TVXQ, and so on.

The first time I substituted for my aunt, she told me they were celebrities but I didn't know who, I honestly didn't care either, I just wanted to do my job, get paid, and go home. They boys didn't know that I had no clue who they were until my third time substituting.

After that day I looked into them some more, and honestly they made some good music. I even watched a few of their shows just to understand them a bit more. I became a fan of them I guess, but I wasn't crazy about them.

I woke up early the next day and put on a pair of comfortable shorts a grey t-shirt before putting my hair up in a bun. I was going to be cleaning and working all day so I wanted to be comfortable and didn't want to have to worry about ruining my clothes.

After I had a bagel I head out of the apartment and stepped into the elevator and went up to the 5th floor.

Oh, right. I forgot to mention, my aunts apartment was in the same building where NCT lived, it was more convenient for work.

Once I was on the 5th floor I walked over to their apartment door and keyed in the passcode to the door before entering.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" I called out as I took my shoes off and slipped into the house slippers that were meant for my aunt. I was soon greeted by an older male who smiled at me "I was waiting for you Mina, I'm their manager, I've already told the boys about the situation so they'll be out to greet you soon, they're just getting ready to go out," I nodded my head and bowed  before he led me inside. He didn't need to show me around as I was already familiar with the place.

The boys soon came out and greeted me. The members who lived on this floor were Johnny, Haechan, Doyoung and Taeyong.

"It's nice to see you again Mina! We look forward to seeing you around more...oh also tell your aunt we really miss her, she was really sweet and we loved having her around!" Taeyong grinned and I smiled back at him, before I could reply Haechan chimed in "I already miss her cooking, she's a really great cook! Ugh I just drool thinking about her food..."

I let out a small chuckle "so you just miss her for her food?" I teased.

"No no! Of course not!" He shook his head put his hands up to deny it.

"I know I'm just teasing you,"

Haechan let out a sigh of relief. The boys soon left for their schedules and I was left alone to do my job.

I grabbed their laundry and sorted the clothes, separating the whites from the colored before I loaded the washer. After than I began dusting off every book and cranny followed by vacuuming and sweeping.

When I was finished I cooked a simple meal for them to have once they got back.

I made my way to the 10th floor where Mark, Yuta, Jaehyun and Jungwoo lived. The apartment was of course empty. Once again, I got everything I needed to get done done.

The boys had gotten home around the same time I had finished cooking. The boys all walked in saying how they smelled something good. I came out and formally greeted them as their new permanent maid.

"What did you make? It smells so good!" Mark exclaimed.

"Yeah, I'm starving, is it ready?" Yuta chimed in.

"The food is ready if you want to eat now, I'll go set the table,"

They had asked me to eat with them so I did. They all complimented my cooking saying it was just as good as my aunts cooking which honestly made me really happy. Once the boys had finished eating I did the dishes and made sure they didn't need anything else before I made my way back to the 5th floor apartment to check on them as well.

It seems they had also enjoyed the food down here as well and everything seemed to be going well. Before I left Johnny suggested that we should all gather tonight to just hang out and get to know me better so that I could be more comfortable being around them. Their manager agreed and asked me if I would like that. I nodded my head as I saw no harm in doing that.

The boys from the 10th floor came down and we all sat down together and chatted, we asked each other questions and soon the conversation turned into a bunch of jokes and laughter.

After all they would be seeing me almost daily from now on and this could help me understand their needs better.

I excused myself as soon as it started getting dark out and headed straight into the shower once I had gotten home. It seemed like things were going to be pretty easy around here.

Though I definitely did not expect what was to come.

What I thought was going to be a normal life of a maid just doing maid things, would suddenly take a turn.

My maid life became more....interesting to say the least.

And it all started when I walked into his room.....

Next Chapter

[prokopetz]

I have a pinned post for my games in development, but it doesn't really describe what they're about, and apparently this is something we're doing today, so:

My games in development, in rough order of priority:

(Note: all of these have public playtest drafts behind the links.)

Eat God

A game about weird little anarchist muppets with reality-warping powers themed after classic Looney Tunes gags wandering around a classic sword-and-sorcery fantasy setting stirring up trouble. Roughly 50% character creation rules by volume, with provisions for randomising every part of it; the linked draft, above, includes an online character generator if you want to play with it. The mechanics are a sort of elaborated spiritual successor to Costume Fairy Adventures, a game whose development I headed up about a decade ago.

Current status: actively writing, hopefully zeroing in on a feature-complete playtest draft within the next month or two.

Tiny Frog Wizards

One of my customarily literal titles, this is a game where you play as wizards who are tiny frogs. Features elaborate semi-freeform rules for casting spells, lots of big stupid random tables for when spells go off the rails, and absolutely no mechanics for anything that isn't casting a spell; it's a very focused sort of game. Narratively, it's a game about being an overpowered little twerp sticking your nose into other people's problems and offering solutions no-one asked for. Portions of the rules crib shamelessly from @jennamoran's Nobilis 3rd Edition, for which I offer acknowledgement but no apologies.

Current status: development of the text has been set aside for the moment to work on visual identity, with an eye toward crowdfunding an expanded hardcover edition later in the year.

Space Gerbils

A tactical mecha combat game with a very silly twist: the entirety of the tactical positioning occurs inside the mecha, because the game's premise is basically "what if instead of the Big Reveal at the end of Metroid (1986) being that Samus Aran is secretly a girl, Samus Aran was secretly 3–5 small gerbil-like creatures operating a person-size mech suit?" Players engage in positional jockeying and resource management to determine which stations they're crewing within the suit, which is boiled down to a single roll of the dice to determine what happens outside the suit. Includes papercraft minifigs.

Current status: essentially feature-complete, apart from some character creation options and a planned random mission generator; this will likely be the next game I crowdfund after Tiny Frog Wizards.

Indie RPG Prompt Generator [working title]

Essentially a joke that got out of hand, this is a big set of random tables of common indie RPG tropes that you can roll on to generate a description of a hypothetical game, complete with specific rules toys and setting beats. I probably could have finished this up already, but I decided to include examples of each rolled element, which turned into this big hairy research project I'm not able to give adequate attention to right now. If you've got a game of your own that you think would be a good fit for a presently unfilled example slot, please, let me know!

Current status: plugging away at it in bits and pieces as I'm able.

Three Raccoons in a Trenchcoat

This is an anthology consisting of three minigames: the eponymous Three Raccoons in a Trenchcoat, which is self-explanatory; Unfamiliar, in which you play as uncooperative wizards' familiars; and System Crash, in which you play as malfunctioning robots. More a series of formal experiments in character creation and group composition than proper full-featured games, all share the same core mechanics, with milieu-specific addons of varying practicality; for example, System Crash has specific rules for which senses each player is allowed to use when asking the GM for information, because it's completely possible to have a group in which only one of the robots can see. Large portions of Unfamiliar were later re-used in Eat God, above.

Current status: I have a list of notes as long as your arm on planned changes to integrate into the text, and I'm confident I'll get around to doing so one of these years.

Gone to Hell

Literally a Doom (2016) pastiche as a Belonging Outside Belonging game, which is just as silly an idea as it sounds; grown out of an earlier 24-hour RPG called Doomguy. The central conceit is that there's only a single player character, with players taking turns assuming the role of the Slayer, while everyone else takes ownership of the various hostile factions comprising the game's conspiratorial twelve-car pileup of a plot. Lots of pontificating about the implicit power structures of tabletop RPG groups. This one probably needs a full rewrite in order to lend a bit more formal structure to the "one player character, many GMs" conceit than out-of-the-box BOB offers.

Current status: I have not looked at this game in three years, which is actually a really long time for me.

Rotate Bird

Another of my "is this a formal experiment or a real game" titles, this one revolves around constructing characters out of abstract symbols, which are interpreted during play to retroactively define what your character is actually capable of doing. Even the title seen above is an interpretive approximation; strictly speaking, the game is called 🔄🐦. Possibly the most shitposty game I've ever written, which is saying something, but based on playtest feedback it seems functional.

Current status: the only reason this is listed as lower in priority than Gone to Hell is because I genuinely don't know what to do with it. It's probably publishable, with some cleanup editing and graphic design, but it feels like there's something missing. I'm open to suggestions!

Get in the Fucking Robot

A pamphlet-size, competitive, GMless title that's at least as much a board game as it is a tabletop RPG, this one is about a bunch of dysfunctional candidate mecha pilots competing to be the first to pilot the titular giant robot. The game is played under misère conditions: while each character's IC goal is to pilot the robot, each player's OOC goal is to avoid that fate, with the player whose character actually Gets in the Fucking Robot being accounted the loser.

Current status: playtesting suggests the current framework of play doesn't actually work – like, at all – so this one needs to go all the way back to the drawing board; I don't feel like doing that any time soon, which puts it squarely at the bottom of the list.

[specialinterestshows]

Join your girlfriend’s found family as they prepare Dom for his title match in this latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic, Absolute Smokeshow.

Warnings for this section: Social/crowd anxiety, stalking mention, jealousy, PDA, parasocial behavior

-

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 73 of ?): From One Show To The NXT

Rhea kept a comforting hand on you the entire ride over to the next show while you did your best to stay calm. Dominik was in the back with the both of you and Damian drove, his hand moving over to rest on Finn’s thigh whenever the cruise control was on. Your head was swimming with anxiety, but the warm, loving atmosphere in the car kept it from getting to be too much. Every time you tried to focus on the present, concerns for the future seeped in.

“Thanks again for letting me tag along,” it must have been the third time you’d said it.

Need to remember to call in sick for work tomorrow, but I’m not sure how many sick days I have left.

“Take it easy, chica,” Damian chuckled, eyes fixed on the road, looking like there was nowhere he would rather be.

I’m technically not insured to have someone who isn’t me driving my car, no matter how good Damian is at it.

“Yeah, you’re Rhea’s girl, so you’re pretty much part of the family,” Finn chimed in, smile evident in his voice despite the headrest blocking your view of his face, “Family takes care of family, no hesitation.”

I need to stop looking back, but what if someone’s following us again?

“We should make her an “honorary member of The Judgment Day” shirt,” Dom suggested.

I bet my apartment complex is going to be crawling with creeps when I get back. If it isn’t already.

“I’ll style it for her - I know exactly where to make the first cut,” Rhea insisted, eyes admiring your chest.

How many more panic attacks until they all decide I’m not worth helping?

“Don’t worry, love,” Rhea quietly reassured you, clearly sensing your anxiety, “This next show has a much smaller audience, and JD is getting there ahead of us to make sure we have a path inside that isn’t crowded by fans. We’re all going to do our part to keep people from getting too close to you.”

“Thanks, Rhe. Thanks everyone-“ you said again, before being cut off.

“Fuck’s sake, lass,” Finn’s sigh turned into an amused chuckle as he explained his interruption, “You’ve helped me and Damian get together and you’ve been nothing but good to Rhea - not to mention what the three of you did last night, because I know our man here had the time of his life” - he gestured to a blushing Dominik with a jab of his thumb - “So quit acting like you’re a burden and face it: you’re worth more than you realize.”

This coming from the man whose first words to me were about some money I allegedly owed him? The fact that Finn’s position on you seemed to have completely changed made it difficult to deny the sincerity of his words, leaving you in a stunned silence.

“Good one, babe,” you just barely heard Damian whisper to Finn.

Just as Rhea had promised, JD McDonagh was waiting for the three of you when you pulled into the parking lot, giving the group directions before taking the keys to park the car. JD seemed determined to help and Finn was happy to see him - but Damian definitely wasn’t.

“Cuidado, mi amor,” he muttered, a protective arm around Finn as he watched JD slide into the driver’s seat, “He’s still looking at you a little too long for my taste.”

“You know I only have eyes for you,” Finn reassured Damian, sticking his hand in his boyfriend’s back pocket.

“Yeah, but does he know-“ Damian jumped a bit, presumably in response to the squeeze Finn had given his ass.

Rhea quickly brought up the hand that wasn’t holding yours to stifle her laughter, muffling it just enough for you to catch Damian whispering “brat” to Finn under his breath.

The topic of conversation soon turned to Dom’s match to win back the NXT North American Championship, and before you knew it, you were backstage.

Rhea held your hand tightly as you all walked to the locker rooms. “That’s her” and “belt bunny” were whispered more than once as you walked through the groups of wrestlers, managers, and technical staff. Suddenly, you were self-conscious, trying to fold in on yourself away from all the curious eyes.

Someone whistled suggestively and the entire Judgment Day stopped to look for the source - to no avail. Rhea let go of your hand in favor of putting a protective arm around your shoulders. You held her tight until you were in a less crowded area. Rhea gave you a loving squeeze before following the rest of the group into the locker room to help Dom get ready for his match.

You were about to follow them, until an arm in a dark jacket blocked the closing door.

“Hey, you’re Rhea’s girlfriend, right?”

The question came from a woman dressed in black and silver ring gear. She somehow looked simultaneously bored and threatening, flipping her long, two-toned hair out of her face as she stared you down.

“… Yeah,” you answered reluctantly, “Why?”

“But you’re not a wrestler, are you.”

It was more of a statement, but you confirmed anyway.

“I’m not, no.”

The anxiety was obvious in your voice; maybe that’s what made the woman smirk and lean in before asking:

“So is it true what they say about Rhea?”

“What do they say?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Jacy! We still need to get ready for the match,” an excitable blonde in matching ring gear ran up and addressed the woman before she could answer you, “Come on!”

Jacy sighed, looking you over before letting out a short laugh and following behind her tag partner.

What do they say about Rhea?

“Babe?” your girlfriend opened the door in front of you, looking confused, “Come join us; we need to know where you are if we’re going to keep you safe.”

You walked in and sat in the corner of the locker room as the others talked strategy - the last thing you wanted was to make the wrong move when Rhea was getting ready for a match.

A buzz made you pull out your phone.

It was Marisol:

“Is this you? Or do you have a twin?”

The message had a photo attached of the same tabloid cover you saw at the hotel that morning, but this one seemed to be sitting at a checkout counter.

You sighed, tapping away at your phone’s keyboard.

“That’s me: Rhea Ripley’s girlfriend.”

Looking over your response as you hit “send,” it dawned on you that another part of this mess was weighing on you in a way you couldn’t have expected: Rhea had become a celebrity because of her own talent, but you were only interesting to the world at large because you were dating her.

Your phone vibrated in your hands: a reply from Mari.

“I actually had to look up who she was - not really into wrestling. Hope you won’t hold it against me.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as her follow-up text reached you:

“How are you doing, belleza?”

“Overwhelmed” you typed.

Then deleted.

“Stressed” you typed instead.

Then deleted that too.

“Wish I could just go home. But it doesn’t feel safe.”

You typed and hit send.

Marisol responded quickly:

“Let me know if you need to crash at mine, hermosa.”

You were thrown - she barely knew you.

“U-Hauling already?” you reply, avoiding giving an actual response to the offer.

“No need for a U-Haul when you have a truck” was her reply, a winking face ending the message.

By the time your eyes had read down to the emoji, another message from popped up from Mari:

“Kidding. But if you do move someplace, you can use my truck if you smoke me out after.”

“Did you hear me, love?” Rhea’s voice made you look up from your phone.

Not only did you miss what your girlfriend had said, you hadn’t noticed JD was now in the locker room as well.

“I didn’t, sorry,” you admitted, gauging her reaction.

“I said all of us are going to be out there,” Rhea said, unfazed, “So you might be on your own for a little while, but I’ll have JD run back to you after he’s done his part. Sound good?”

You nodded and she smiled before turning to Finn and Damian. Looking over at a slightly fidgety Dominik, you tune out Rhea’s lecture about postposing the eye-fucking until after the title had been won.

“Nervous?” you asked your metamour.

“A little,” he said, moving to sit next to you on the bench, “Everyone is counting on me.”

“Anything I can do to help you with your match?” you asked, knowing it was unlikely but still wanting to offer.

He looked away for a moment, a blush blooming on his face.

“A kiss for good luck?” Dom asked finally.

“…Don’t get used to it,” you replied, holding his chin gently as you leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“So they get to be distracted and we don’t?” Finn asked, making Damian laugh.

“That kiss was more chaste than any single time the two of you have looked at each other since you met,” Rhea insisted, “Now let’s get back to business.”

[end part seventy-three of ?]

Part 74: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/751959352476368896/absolute-smokeshow-part-74-of-locker-room

-

Tag list (thank you!)

@littlemiss-fanficlover , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domripley , @wiccanpriestess , @falloutboy-lover , @aut0luminescence , @riverina69 , @itsrheasgirl , @1-800-sinister

[wordarttmn]

Omori observations 48

I am now playing on a much damaged computer, which might not last long, so I’ll keep backups of my save files (among other things).

Besides, the PC will stay in a fixed position at my apartment to prevent further damage. So I’ll probably be much less comfortable while playing.

In-game, it is about 10:30, time to go to bed.

I don’t think that’s him saying he wasn’t thinking about Sunny at all for all this time (he was).

I think he’s saying he focused so hard on bringing Sunny outside that he forgot completely about what was inside

And actually that’s a broader narrative thing that I completely forgot to bring up until today.

Kel takes sunny out (of his house, of his hikikomori lifestyle) but Hero comes inside (sunny’s house, but also his life) with Sunny.

Hero will end up asking more personal questions for example.

I think both of those were what Sunny needed at this point.

Come on let me save

So this time the day isn’t quite over yet. Interesting.

You… don’t really need to point it out.

we’re starting to see the censored memories in more explicit detail.

So this confirm that the first □□□□ was Mari. And then it makes a lot more sense why this memory got censored.

It is one in which Mari got mad.

Ultimately, seeing the treehouse again was more of Kel’s wish. Hero knows very well where he is going.

Although he’s quite happy at the idea of having a reason to come back.

This is a great idea, especially seeing how I tend to take evenings alone (not well).

But honestly it would be an amazing idea no matter what.

Hero, she owes you that.

Just how afraid is he of her?

Hero finding an excuse to busy himself again.

This kind of habits die hard.

But also that’s very nice.

Lmao

The what was where now? There is NOTHING there

And there you go.

One way in which Sunny and Hero’s griefs are still quite different, is that they are uncomfortable with very different places.

Hero cannot enter the cemetary, but he sure can go in this piano room that I’ve been unable to go in until now.

I’ve just noticed my PC is not charging.

I am unsure why the charging stopped, and even more unsure if I’ll be able to get it to charge again.

Hero. I know this has been your intention probably since we opened the photo album and you saw the first picture.

Tbf this is just how pianists speak. This is what I say if I haven’t practiced in as little as two weeks.

For him it probably has been longer now. When I was busying myself to the max, I had to quit the piano for two years (although I still practiced sometimes in the cafeteria)

However this is how it always comes off. Of course.

But it’s hard to get rid of the insecurity as a pianist.

that’s both very pianist and very Hero.

See this is what I was talking about.

Both because of the photo album, and because Hero is being more inquisitive about Sunny’s personal life.

This means that it’s through Hero that we end up learning quite a bit about Sunny.

This is the first time any actual character has mentioned the violin in present time.

Again, that’s a core part of Sunny’s personality according to everyone but himself.

that’s both foreshadowing, and a confirmation that Sunny does not speak.

Well until now, we have known it only as Title. But it’s about to be given another name.

I can see two explanation. One of them is that Sunny’s mom has been cleaning it.

I’ll refrain from the other for now.

I keep saying that btw so please tell me if I forget to tie any loose threads!

Both Hero and Kel are musically trained. it’s possible that everyone in the group is.

Finally getting this confirmation.

Sunny named himself/his dream OC after the piano.

TBC

[seven-oomen]

Since I've had quite a bad day today I decided to pauze the writing for Caught somewhere in time for the day and instead work on some Clone / Clone wars headcanons of my own that I'm going to include in the fic. Link now under cut!!

A few things that will be a plot point:

Parentage of Cal Kestis (Like one of them is Obi-Wan, but the other...??? I know, you don't.)

Romance of Cody and Obi-Wan

Sibling relationship between Anakin, Cal, and Ahsoka

Corruption in the senate (Sith Lord and after)

Way to free the clones and end order 66 (chip storyline)

Headcanons:

The Jedi can tell all the clones apart by their presences in the force. It's like a second nature to them. They never mix them up.

Cody likes to knit.

Obi-Wan finds that an absolute delight and happily provides him with the materials and anything else he needs.

Although all the clones can technically count as 'twins' only the ones that shared a gestational pod are considered official twins among the clones. Fives and Echo are among these twins. The prevalence of 'twin births' is about 3%.

Triplets also occur but they are much rarer, there have been three documented cases in the history of the clone troopers. I kinda wanna headcanon that Cody, Fox, and Wolffe are one of these triplets. Out of the three Cody was the smallest at birth. (He caught up later just fine).

Echo has a photographic memory, Fives has a natural gift to spot patterns and connections.

Wolffe seems like a stuck up hardass, but he's an actual softie on the inside and has a knack for sensing when his brothers or others need him the most. His pack is his life.

Fox honors his name by having a very mischievous streak with his brothers. Even if he seems to be a bitch for the rules in every day life, his brothers know him better than that.

Wolffe is excellent at poker.

Fox and Echo battle for the title of Holo-tactic champion.

Waxer is actually fantastic with kids, this stems from his time in training, when he would often visit his little cadet brothers and spend time with them.

Kix is an excellent cook.

Cody can't cook to save his life. Neither can Obi-Wan. Fortunately Obi-Wan knows the right people who can cook.

All the clones are caf drinkers, black, no additives.

Rex carves jewelry like bracelets for everyone, Cody puts trackers in everything Rex carves, or he knits. He'll find a way.

All the clones have unique sleeping positions. It's one of the ways to tell them apart.

Cal and Anakin have a brotherly rivalry, to the point where Cal has actively tried to electrocute Anakin, and Anakin has attempted to force push Cal down a flight of stairs. But if anyone else tries to harm one of them, the other unleashes hellfire upon the assailant.

Cal and Ahsoka quickly become best friends and team up against Anakin whenever the situation allows for it. Obi-Wan actively encourages this, it's hilarious to him.

Among Anakin, Ahsoka, and Cal; Obi-Wan is known as mom. Cody is dubbed 'dad' at some point. The other clones find this hilarious.

While Ahsoka starts as a relatively short teenager, her species tends to grow larger than the average human. So by the time she's an adult, she stands at a respective 200 cm (6'6.7). Anakin hates this in particular, because he was used to being the tallest in the group.

And that's what I got so far. Will probably add more at some point.

[formula1fanfiction]

Valtteri Bottas / Lewis Hamilton

Title: Nudes in the group chat

Pairing: Valtteri Bottas / Lewis Hamilton

Characters: Valtteri Bottas, Lewis Hamilton

Prompt: Valterri post photos of his naked ass couple of times. Lewis has an urge to see this ass more close. Top Lewis- Bottom Valtteri

rating: 18+

A/N: This is the first part of the group chat series :)

F1 Drivers group chat

Valtteri: Good morning guys!

Lance: WHYYYY ????

Carlos: Stop, you're putting me off my breakfast

Lando: Ew

Pierre: ^ agree with Carlos and Lando

Zhou: Good morning :)

Charles: same as Pierre, Carlos and Lando

Valtteri: ;)

George: Seriously Valtteri it's the third time this week, do it again and i'll kick you out of the group chat.

Max: You must listen to princess George, Valtteri

George: fuck off Max

*

Lewis scrolls back up to the first picture Valtteri put in the group chat, he doesn't know why Valtteri keeps putting his ass in the group chat but it's making something stir inside of Lewis. The sort of thing that makes his cock twitch with interest.

Is it wrong to jerk off to pictures of your ex teammate? Probably but it doesn't stop Lewis wrapping his hand around his already erect cock and start to stroke. The dirty thoughts keep popping into Lewis' head, spanking those peachy arse cheeks, spreading them apart, Lewis sinking his cock inside of them.

Lewis is close now, his cock is leaking heavily he strokes that little bit faster and soon feels the height of his orgasm, he shoots his load into his own hand and leans back into his pillows, something needs to be done about this.

(Text) Lewis to Valtteri: Seriously, I need to see that ass up close!

(Text)  Valtteri to Lewis: Took you long enough!

Luckily it's only a few days before race weekend, so Lewis doesn't have to wait long at all to finally get a piece of Valtteri's juicy ass. It's so thick and glorious. Lewis can barely contain himself when gets the text from Valtteri, telling Lewis he's ready. He doesn't hesitate even for a second, tonight is going to be amazing.

Lewis lets himself into Valtteri's room and what he finds is breath taking just Valtteri laid naked and spread out on the bed like a roman god. His cock is hard and proud standing against his stomach, Lewis' own  cock takes immediate interest, so Lewis wastes little time removing his clothing. Soon both men are completely naked.

"Do you have lube, Valtteri?" Lewis gets straight to the point, after all they are just here to have sex. The fin reaches over to the nightstand and presses the bottle into Lewis' hand. "What did you have in mind?" Valtteri asks innocently.

Lewis pours a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and settles down in between Valtteri's wide spread legs. "I want you to ride me, I want to wash that ass bounce." Valtteri smiles as he nods, sinking back into the pillows on the bed.

Lewis gently circles Valtteri's soft pink hole before gently sinking inside, his finger is accepted easily and Lewis slides into the knuckle, twisting and turning his finger before lightly thrusting in and out. Valtteri opens up pretty quickly so Lewis adds a second one and soon a third until he's got three fingers slamming into him. Lewis sinks a little deeper and teases Valtteri's prostate, before easing his fingers out judging him open enough for his cock.

"I want you in reverse cowgirl, I want to watch your juicy." Lewis speaks while settling into Valtteri's spot in the cushions. "Whatever you say Lewis." Valtteri adds a cheeky smile playing on his lips. Lewis cannot wait for this.

Valtteri positions himself over Lewis' cock and slowly starts to sink down. "Fuck yes." Lewis groans once Valtteri reaches the hilt, he looks so good stretched around Lewis' cock, like he was born to take it.  Valtteri stalls for a few seconds, his fingers leaving cresent moons on Lewis' thighs as he gets used to the burn. Lewis squeezes his ass and massages at the muscles, lightly thrusting up making Valtteri gasp in pure pleasure at the unexpected movement. Fuck Lewis is on cloud nine right now.

"I'm ready." Valtteri announces, giving Lewis little time to process the information before pulling himself up, until only the head of Lewis' cock is inside him, then slams back down again causing them both to moan. Valtteri repeats the action a few more times before settling into a steady rhythm. Lewis has the perfect view of the gorgeous ass wrapped around him while Valtteri is slowly bouncing up and down on his cock.  

The pinkness of Valtteri's rim is stretched obscenely around Lewis' thick cock, the lube is making it shiny, he pulls the cheeks apart watching the way it clenches around his cock as Valtteri moves harder and faster. Lewis digs his fingers into Valtteri's hip bones and angles his cock ever so slightly.

"Fuck right there Lewis." Lewis smiles he's found what he's looking for, he thrusts up matching Valtteri's pace slamming into his prostate over and over again. Valtteri is close, Lewis can tell by the stuttering of his hips and the shaking of his thighs. Lewis' slams into his prostate three more times before he finally loses and shoots his load over his own chest.

Lewis flips Valtteri onto his back and slams into him with all his might, searching for his own orgasm. The only sound in the room is the sound of skin slapping together. Lewis screams as he comes filling up Valtteri with his milky white seed. Lewis pulls out instantly and collapses down beside him.   

They don't cuddle, they just lay together panting trying to getting their breathing back under control.

"Why did you keep sending pictures of your arse in the group chat?" Lewis laughs, eventually breaking the silence, it's been driving me crazy all week. Valtteri smirks his eyes meeting Lewis' "I wanted to see how long it would take for you to get in touch with me."

[chupenguin]

Chuuya Nakahara is back

(since I don't know when or if it'll be complete one day at all the figure skatar Chuuya fic, have the prologue that is the only part i finished for real)

Spring is arriving late this year, there is no sing of the cold wind of the previous months going away anytime soon and, inside the venue, cold sink to his bones, making him shiver. For someone born during spring, having his birthday approaching with bad weather always has looked like a bad omen. 

He sits there, one leg crossed over the other, hands resting over them. Calm and collected, eyes fixed in the ice, sharp as ever.  

There's a flash, the click of a camera next to his face, but he ignores it. He blinks a few times, so the whiteness disappears, and his vision focus again.  

Chuuya sits there, wrapped in his black leather jacket, with his brother by his side.  

They sit in the front row center at the Sud de France Arena. In the sidelines, coaches take jackets from the skaters and offer water bottles sprinkled with last advice. Young girls in pink dresses wait for their time to take the ice, once flowers fill the surface of the rink, they'll take it, dreaming of one day where they would be the stars.  

The last of the five group of skaters take the ice. Murakami first, followed by Kitakata and Ibuse. Contesti and Gauthier, the only Europeans in the last group, wave as they glide across the ice. Jin-Seo, from Korea, closes the group. Even if the skaters from the last group made almost clean programs, this is the moment of truth.   

This last group will determine the winner.  

Chuuya and his brother watch, in a venue filled to the rim for the first time in years, as the skaters start their warmup. In thirty minutes, a new world champion is going to be crowned.   

(more under the cut)

Verlaine's hair looks almost white under the lights, maybe it is, the last three years have been nothing but cruel to him.  

"They're watching," he says. French rolls easy on his tongue. Even after two decades, there's no trace of Japanese in his accent when he speaks. "Vultures."  

"They always do."  

The click of the camera doesn't distract him from the ice, from the six skaters using every second of the warmup. The Italian kid, because he’s not even a man jet, is jumping out of his axe. He doesn't fall, he doesn't stumble, but it feels so wrong in Chuuya's eyes.  

His hands tighten against the fabric of his pants, his legs crave to get down there, to teach all these kids how it's done. If the Korean skaters wins here, he’ll tie his lifetime record of three world titles in a row.  

The cold air burns his nose when he takes a deep breath, and it feels like home. The razor shape pain of jealousy fills his lungs and Chuuya eyes narrow when the first kid takes his starting position.  

The gold medal is within this six. But he only cares about the one who is been trying less than a point apart from his record four times already. The man who can make two of his records in this sport disappear like it’s nothing.  

“They’re trying to catch you angry. They want to see you rooting against him,” Verlaine is more collected that Chuuya thought he could be in this situation. “What did I always tell you?”  

“Don’t let it show in your face,” since he was a kid, Chuuya always wore emotions in his sleeve, in his face. And that wasn’t good once you stepped out of the rink. He was asked to be royal once he was seated in the Kiss & Cry or in the green room, especially in the green room. 

In the ice, representing Italy, Marco Contesti, the announcer says.  

Contesi is 6th after the short. He needs 123,2 need to take the lead. Good skater, nice jumps, but he gets nervous the moment he makes a mistake.  

"Want to share anything with the classroom?"  

When Verlaine speaks, his lips barely move. He doesn’t tear his eyes apart from the ice, not letting anyone know what is happening in their seats. In a few hours, they will appear in magazines and blogs, under the news about the just crowned champion.  

“He always messes his second jump in the free if he had a clean short.”  

The quad loop is his worst jump, the one Contesi fails two of each three times. Having a clean loop in the short, means that right now, the jump is the only thing in his head, and that overthinking is going to be his demise.   

Skaters are, after all, creature of habits. Once something is engraved in you, dropping it is almost impossible.   

Chuuya squares his shoulders before a jump, and he always turn to fall on his left hip.  

Verlaine used to prerotate all his flips, even if it was so subtle that only Chuuya and himself knew.  

“Maybe Kitakata can stop him, he has a good free. If he skates clean, he’ll already be 3 points over Jin-Seo with the segment score only.”  

"Kitakata has a cursed song and a stiff presentation, everyone knows it. Nothing good comes of skating to La, La, Land soundtrack.”  

It started as a joke, between both fans and skaters, but each year it proves to be real. Chuuya only saw two skaters finish a clean skate with that music.   

And in top of that, he is from Kagawa, of course the federation hasn’t even blinked in his direction to help him improve the messiest parts of his programs. Why would they do it, when they can focus in their new brilliant Tokyo stars?  

“He's bending his knee to much he'll-”  

The takeoff is clean, but not high enough, so he falls.  

In the second jump, Verlaine almost smiles.  

“You haven’t lost it.”  

“I don’t know what you mean.”  

The kid leaves the ice, waving and bowing to the judging panel. To the public. The smile on his face is fake and forced, the one you offer after a mediocre presentation.  

“Every skater has a weak spot, a flaw” Verlaine says. “And you’ve always been fantastic at seeing them.”  

“Right,” it’s in his veins, in is blood. It's in every single cell of his body. He has spent more years in the ice than out of it. Observing program after program across the world, both in person and trough a screen. He as attended to camps and seminars. He has imparted them. If a part of his body is more trained than his legs, is his eyes.  

“So, what’s Jin-Seo?”  

There's an answer in the tip of his tongue, but he can’t say it out loud.  

“I can feel you staring Paul,” even if he hasn’t stopped looking at the rink. “Jin-Seo relies too much on quads,” not like that’s a big flaw. Chuuya used to do that too. If you have a jump, why not use it?   

“But he does them so often that his triples are unpolished.”  

“Lots of power, but he's slow, he needs too many crossovers to jump. He’s fast on his spins and in the air, but for the preparation, he’s not quite quick as Contesi or Tetcho.”  

“Or you,” his brother says. “There’s nobody on the circuit right now who is as fast as you were. Not just with your feet, but with your head, too.”  

Because he was one in a million.  

Because he had been training two hours a day when he was just six.   

Because he was born to step in that podium, one time and other and other.   

“I’d have to face a bunch of kids with powerful quads and ten years younger, though,” he tells Verlaine. “Maintain the speed and my jumps.”  

“That won’t be easy.”  

“Not at my age,” Verlaine scoff at that. At twenty-eight, Chuuya is past the age of skating. In this sport, most people retire young and broken, and Chuuya is just one of those things. “I don’t have the jumps I used to have.”  

Another skater takes and leaves the ice, boring program, the millionth guy in a plain purple shirt, skating to Prince.   

“That’s truth,” Verlaine reaches for his bottle, taking a sip. “And you’re out of shape, you’ll need to go back to your previous regimen.”  

He’s not that out of shape.   

He still trains, he still goes out for his morning run. But he doesn’t spend five hours in the rink each day, burning until his legs can’t take it anymore.  

“If I did it...” he says, the answer he had a few minutes ago burns in his tongue.  

Jin-Seo takes the ice. Four minutes and it’ll be over. He'll tie his record.  

Or two of them.  

A migraine starts to grow as he visualizes it. He's stuck in this chair, watching as a kid takes everything he ever earned from his hands.   

He wants to scream. He could be his weak spot.  

His flaw.  

Facing him, the face of facing a living legend would be their demise.   

“Who’s going to coach me? You?”  

Because, if Chuuya at least steps in the rink each day for job, this is Verlaine’s first time facing the ice in three years.  

“That’s on you Chuuya,” because he wouldn’t blame his brother if he wanted to take this road alone after everything that happened.  

“Fuck,” Jin-Seo's only messy jump, the triple axel, is flawless. Around them everyone leans forward. Everyone waits for a perfect program, for a record to be smashed.  

Chuuya looks at the screen, this looks bad for him.  

The boxes are green, the TES keep getting higher.  

His stomach sinks, he feels sick.  

So Chuuya squares his shoulders and, without looking at him, Verlaine gets his answer.  

“Are you sure?”   

No.  

Absolutely not.  

“I’m not at my best.”  

“Neither I am.”  

Does people even remember him? Do reporters even care about him from something apart from gossip?  

“You’ll coach a ghost.”  

“I’ll coach the best figure skater the world has known,” Verlaine’s hand rest in his leg.  

Even after all those years, affection doesn’t come easy to them.   

In the ice, after one last jump, all Jin-Seo's boxes are green.  

“You’ll really do it?”   

“It can ruin everything,” he whispers. “Prove that I run away, that I was scared... I’ll lose my name and my legacy.”   

“This is not everything Chuuya,” his hand squeezes his leg, and Chuuya feels tears prickling his eyes. Oh, he knows. God, he knows that world doesn’t end once he takes off his skates, he learned it the hard way.  

He feels so cruel, because for a moment, the thought of telling him that he’s wrong crosses his mind.  

“You’ll have to work me to the bone.”  

“It would an honor,” he jokes. Like he had ever done anything but working his brother to the bone, squeeze all the talent he had out of him. “To coach you again, it’ll make me so happy.”  

Jin-Seo sits in the Kiss & Cry.  

His coach, an old Korean figure skater, puts a jacket over his shoulders.  

The glint on his eyes tells Chuuya everything.  

The way he punched the ice is enough.  

“I guess I’m coming out of retirement,” he says, and Verlaine’s hand squeezes his leg a little tighter when the numbers show in the screen.  

Jin-Seo jumps, hands in the air, he just crowned himself world champion for the third time.  

“Let’s see how long that last.” 

Nakahara surprises the world one last time  

Nakahara Chuuya (23) takes the gold in Saitama, his third world title in a row stabilizes a new record since the federation statutes changes. But the record is not what everyone is talking about. After a challenging event, where he struggled to take the lead, Nakahara announced his retirement from competition skating without any previous statements about it. For now, he has not announced any press conference, and all his social media has been deactivated. Both fans and teammates ask what the reason behind this is. An injury? The pressure of the new generation of skaters? For now, we don’t have any answer, but will the ice prince become a coward prince? We'll see it.  

Amanda Campbell, Golden Rink. March 2019, issue 345.  

[argyrocratie]

“The battle between us and the occupation who desecrated our land, displaced our people and are still murdering and displacing Palestinians—confiscating lands and attacking sacred places—is an open ended battle,” Sinwar said. When asked about the killing of Israeli civilians by Hamas rockets, Sinwar became animated. “You can’t compare that to those who resist and defend themselves with weapons that look primitive in comparison. If we had the capabilities to launch precision missiles that targeted military targets, we wouldn’t have used the rockets that we did,” he shot back. “Does the world expect us to be well-behaved victims while we’re getting killed? For us to be slaughtered without making a noise? That’s impossible.”

Two and a half years later, Sinwar authorized the start of Operation Al Aqsa Flood, the single deadliest attack inside Israel in history.

(...)

Khalidi also believes that Hamas was not prepared for its own operational success on October 7. “I don't think they expected the Gaza division to fall apart. I don't think they expected to overrun a dozen or more border settlements. I don't think they expected thousands and thousands of Gazans to come out of this prison that Israel has created and kidnap individual Israelis. I don't think they expected the kind of killing that took place in these border settlements. I don't think all of this was planned, frankly,” he told me. “There was absolutely no control of the battle space. There was no control of this area. The Israeli army took four days to reoccupy every single military position, every single border village. So there were two days, three days, in some cases more, during which there was complete chaos. I'm sure horrific things happened.”

Hamas has consistently denied allegations that its fighters intentionally killed civilians on October 7. In a manifesto published on January 21, titled “Our Narrative,” Hamas sought to explain Operation Al Aqsa Flood, though the document consisted mostly of general grievances. Among the tangible aims of the attacks in Israel, Hamas said, its fighters had “targeted the Israeli military sites, and sought to arrest the enemy’s soldiers to [put] pressure on the Israeli authorities to release the thousands of Palestinians held in Israeli jails through a prisoners exchange deal.”

“Maybe some faults happened during Operation Al Aqsa Flood’s implementation due to the rapid collapse of the Israeli security and military system, and the chaos caused along the border areas with Gaza,” it continued. Sinwar reportedly acknowledged to his comrades after October 7 that “things went out of control” and “People got caught up in this, and that should not have happened.”

Rabbani said that it is undeniable that Hamas killed civilians during the October 7 attacks and expressed serious doubts about the group’s official position that Al Aqsa Flood was focused solely on targeting the Israeli military. “Hamas has a history of this—its suicide bombings against civilian buses and restaurants and so on during the Second Intifada,” he said. Rabbani recalls reading accounts of the October 7 attacks and watching videos from that day of Israeli civilians being killed or captured. “My initial view was that these were probably people who had been suffering in Gaza their whole lives, didn't expect to go back alive, and wanted to go out with a bang. I'm sure that's the explanation for some of these cases,” he said.

“But I also wonder to what extent it was premeditated. I'd be very interested to learn to what extent Hamas intended to inflict a terribly traumatic blow on Israeli society, and not only the Israeli military,” he added. “There is evidence to support it. There is also evidence to contradict it. But I think it's a question worth examining in more detail.”

(...)

In the years preceding the October 7 attacks, under presidents Trump and Biden, Hamas watched as Israel became more emboldened as prospects for Palestinian liberation receded to the footnotes of Washington-led initiatives aimed at normalizing relations between Israel and Arab nations like Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and the United Arab Emirates. Netanyahu’s position was: “We must not give the Palestinians a veto over new peace treaties with Arab states.”

Just two weeks before the October 7 attacks, the Israeli leader delivered a speech at the UN general assembly in New York, brandishing a map of what he promised could be the “New Middle East.” It depicted a state of Israel that stretched continuously from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea. Gaza and the West Bank, as Palestinian lands, were erased.

During that speech, Netanyahu portrayed the full normalization of relations with Saudi Arabia as the linchpin of his vision for this “new” reality, one which would open the door to a “visionary corridor that will stretch across the Arabian Peninsula and Israel. It will connect India to Europe with maritime links, rail links, energy pipelines, fiber-optic cables.”

Hamas monitored these developments carefully and saw the U.S. moves toward circumventing a Palestinian resolution in its normalization campaign as an existential threat. “If Saudi Arabia signed, it means the whole region, when it comes to the Palestinian question, will collapse. It is not a plan. It is not a peace process. It is an integration of Israel in the newly created Middle East. They have started to talk about Middle East NATO,” Naim said. “It is a coup against the heritage, the history, the values of this region and against the future, all this together.”

According to Abulhawa, “The status quo was unsustainable and untenable, especially when Arab leaders began normalizing and the writing was on the wall for our total disappearance and total destruction.”

(...)

Abulhawa said that while she understands the value of the quest to fully understand the specific motivations and objectives of Hamas’s operations on October 7, it is essential to view it as a logical consequence of history. “Palestinians have, for decades, tried every possible avenue to shake off this oppression, this unrelenting, violent colonizer. So this was going to happen sooner or later. It was inevitable that something was going to come to a head, particularly in Gaza,” she said.

“If you go back to the 1940s after the Nakba, there was a decade or so when Palestinians were just pleading with international bodies, going from one place to another, trying to negotiate for justice, trying to go home, trying to figure out a way. And there was no movement. We were completely irrelevant. Nobody even acknowledged us,” Abulhawa added. “It was only until Palestinians resorted to armed resistance that the world finally admitted that, ‘Oh wait, this is an indigenous population that does exist.’ It was only after we started hijacking planes and resorting to guerrilla warfare in the spirit of leftist guerrilla movements of that era that there was any movement towards liberation.”

(...)

The October 7 attacks and the subsequent guerrilla war in Gaza against the Israeli military has undoubtedly raised Hamas’s political standing among many Palestinians. This support, though, may not necessarily translate into political and electoral victory down the line. “Whereas they clearly are in a stronger position politically than the PA, which is seen as a subcontractor for the occupation and as clapped out, exhausted, corrupt and so on by most Palestinians, that doesn't mean that there are not criticisms which many people are not willing to voice right now because they are standing up to the Israelis,” Khalidi said. “Their resistance, the fact that they're still fighting the Israelis on the one hand makes a lot of Palestinians, especially the ones farther away from Gaza, heartened. On the other hand, what has happened to the people of Gaza leaves a lot of Palestinians, especially the ones in Gaza, not so happy.”

Rabbani agreed that how people in Gaza will ultimately judge Hamas’s responsibility for the apocalyptic devastation they’ve endured remains unpredictable. “I think there will also be many Palestinians who will look and say, ‘Okay, the Gaza Strip has been reduced to rubble. You've left the people of the Gaza Strip defenseless and subject to genocide. And yes, Israel did it. Israel is responsible. But that's on you as well.’” At the same time, Rabbani says the attacks of October 7 represent a historic chapter in the cause of Palestinian liberation and compared it to other pivotal moments in anti-colonial struggles in South Africa and Vietnam that came with significant death tolls among civilians. “There's no denying the catastrophic consequences,” he said. “But my sense is that the changes in the longer term—of course without in any way trying to minimize the enormously unbearable damage that has been inflicted on an entire people—will, in the end, be seen as a critical turning point akin to Sharpeville, Soweto, Dien Bien Phu.”

Abulhawa said that during her trips to Gaza she talked with people about how they viewed Hamas and encountered what she described as complex, nuanced, and sometimes contradictory perspectives. “The trauma is profound. And they'll tell you two conflicting ideas in the same breath. On the one hand, they're angry. And sometimes some people will blame Hamas, but everybody knows who's bombing them. Everybody.”

In his past media interviews, Sinwar has spoken of Hamas as a social movement with a military wing and framed its political goals as part of the historic struggle to reestablish a unified state of Palestine. “I am the Gaza leader of Hamas, of something much more complex than a militia—a national liberation movement. And my main duty is to act in the interest of my people: to defend it and its right to freedom and independence,” he said. “All of those who still view us as an armed group, and nothing more, you don't have any idea of what Hamas really looks like.... You focus on resistance, on the means rather than the goal—which is a state based on democracy, pluralism, cooperation. A state that protects rights and freedom, where differences are faced through words, not through guns. Hamas is much more than its military operations.”

Sinwar, unlike leaders of Al Qaeda or ISIS, has regularly invoked international law and UN resolutions, exhibiting a nuanced understanding of the history of negotiations with Israel mediated by the U.S. and other nations. “Let's be clear: having an armed resistance is our right, under international law. But we don't only have rockets. We have been using a variety of means of resistance,” he said in the 2018 interview. “We make the headlines only with blood. And not only here. No blood, no news. But the problem is not our resistance, it is their occupation. With no occupation, we wouldn't have rockets. We wouldn't have stones, Molotov cocktails, nothing. We would all have a normal life."

Throughout 2018 and 2019, Sinwar endorsed the large-scale nonviolent protests along the walls and fences of Gaza known as the Great March of Return. “We believe that if we have a way to potentially resolve the conflict without destruction, we’re O.K. with that,” Sinwar said at a rare news conference in 2018. “We would prefer to earn our rights by soft and peaceful means. But we understand that if we are not given those rights, we are entitled to earn them by resistance.”

Israel responded to the protests with the regular use of lethal force, killing 223 people and wounding more than 8,000 others. Israeli snipers later boasted about shooting dozens of protesters in the knee during the weekly Friday demonstrations. For many Palestinians these events reinforced the view that Israel’s policies cannot be changed by words.

Jeremy Scahill, On the Record with Hamas

[bestsellingproperties]

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[citynewsglobe]

[ad_1] Welcome to the revealing of a powerhouse lineup set to grace the stage at an upcoming group of audio system at a convention that guarantees to ignite minds and encourage change. Prepare to satisfy the influential voices headlining this occasion, every bringing their distinctive perspective and experience to sort out urgent points in right this moment’s world. Significance of getting influential audio system When organizing a convention, the choice of audio system is essential. Having influential voices as a part of the lineup can elevate the occasion to new heights. Influential audio system convey experience, credibility, and contemporary views to the desk. Their insights can encourage and educate attendees, leaving a long-lasting affect on their expertise. Audio system with a robust presence of their discipline can appeal to a bigger viewers and generate buzz across the occasion. Their fame provides worth to the convention and will increase its general enchantment. Moreover, influential audio system have the facility to spark significant discussions, problem typical pondering, and drive innovation inside the business. Their contributions can form future tendencies and developments. Having influential voices headlining a convention not solely boosts its fame but additionally creates an enriching setting for data sharing and networking alternatives. Speaker 1: Title, background, and subject of dialogue The primary speaker to grace the stage at our upcoming convention is none apart from Dr. Sarah Johnson, a famend psychologist with over 20 years of expertise in cognitive behavioral remedy. Dr. Johnson will delve into the fascinating world of psychological wellness and resilience, shedding mild on sensible methods to navigate life’s challenges with a optimistic mindset. With a Ph. D. in medical psychology from Harvard College, Dr. Johnson has devoted her profession to empowering people to unlock their full potential and lead fulfilling lives. Her insights usually are not solely insightful but additionally actionable, making advanced psychological ideas accessible to all attendees. By means of her partaking presentation type and wealth of information, Dr. Johnson guarantees to depart a long-lasting affect on all who've the privilege of listening to her communicate. Be part of us as we embark on this transformative journey collectively! Speaker 2: Title, background, and subject of dialogue Introducing Speaker 2, the dynamic and influential voice that can captivate audiences on the upcoming convention. With a background in cutting-edge expertise and innovation, Speaker 2 brings a wealth of expertise to the desk. Their experience in disrupting conventional industries with digital options is unparalleled. The subject of dialogue? Brace your self for an enlightening dialog on the way forward for synthetic intelligence and its affect on enterprise methods. Speaker 2’s insights into leveraging AI to drive progress and effectivity are positive to depart attendees impressed and knowledgeable. Get able to dive deep into the world of machine studying, automation, and knowledge analytics as Speaker 2 unveils groundbreaking methods for staying forward in right this moment’s quickly evolving enterprise panorama. Don’t miss this chance to realize useful data from a thought chief on the forefront of technological developments. Speaker 3: Title, background, and subject of dialogue Meet our third influential speaker on the upcoming convention – Dr. Michelle Lee, a famend skilled in environmental sustainability and local weather change coverage. With a Ph. D. in Environmental Science from Stanford College, Dr. Lee has devoted her profession to advocating for sustainable practices in industries worldwide. On the convention, she is going to delve into the urgent want for companies to undertake eco-friendly methods that not solely profit the setting but additionally contribute to long-term profitability. Her modern method to integrating

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[bailesu]

I have to assume that Seinfeld lives at the bottom of the Marianas Trench where he has no TV reception.

We frankly live in a great age for TV comedy, in part because we can watch all the old ones, but also, there's a goatload of channels and they all want comedies.

So I am going to rant as a Gen Xer.

A lot of my generation are shitty comedians. And they're shitty because in the 90s, the shitstorm of the 2000s hadn't happened yet. A lot of 90s comedians basically had a pathetic manchild schtick that worked in the nineties, but no longer works but none of them know how to fucking grow up. I'll be fair - that was not the essence of Seinfeld (it's the essence of Adam Sandler, who if not forced to be good, reverts to the pathetic manchild schtick that doesn't work for a man his age). But the essence of Seinfeld was apolitical cynicism, the kind that can be afforded by well off white men. It's the heart of Seinfeld and of South Park, the idea that caring about things makes you history's greatest monster, and that your comedy should stand for nothing.

Some things need cynicism applied to them - South Park is at its best when deflating bloated egos and scams, like when it took on Scientology. Seinfeld spent a lot of time tearing apart sitcom cliches; in the eighties, everyone had to learn a lesson; the essence of Seinfeld is that no one ever learns anything.

But this cynicism became an attitude that if there's a political conflict, both sides are equally terrible and comedy shouldn't ever advocate for anything positive. And that's why a lot of 90s comedians turned to crap.

When a comedian whines about PC, what they really mean is 'I can't make cruel jokes about those being punched in the face by society' and also 'I don't actually know shit about anyone but wealthy white men because I don't even interact with non-rich white men anymore'

The Inside Baseball Problem.

In the past, the Inside Baseball Problem was minimized because every comedian assumed middle class white men were their audience (or they operated purely inside a minority group they belonged to). This is no longer the case but it was when Gen X comedians like Seinfeld were coming up.

What is the Inside Baseball Problem? The best comedy requires you and the comedian to share deep knowledge of something. Baseball. Being Jewish. Being a Middle Class New Yorker in the 90s. (The title comes from a sports show that was great if you loved baseball and incomprehensible if not.) But lots of topics are not well known by enough people to work with the random audiences a comedian faces now. This creates a great temptation to stick to broad stereotypes. But those stereotypes were generally created to dunk on people.

They've also largely been beaten to death by overuse.

A lot of successful comedians fall into this trap because they stop interacting with anyone normal and don't know how to make jokes about normal experiences any more. And all their material on various groups is old, moldy, ill-intentioned stereotypes.

So that's basically the Seinfeld situation.

“In a new interview with the New Yorker ahead of his 70th birthday on Monday, the comedian explained his theory about why there’s no “funny stuff” to watch on TV anymore. “Nothing really affects comedy,” he said, “People always need it. They need it so badly and they don’t get it.” Instead of getting sitcoms like M*A*S*H, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and All in the Family, audiences miss out, he said, as a “result of the extreme left and P.C. crap, and people worrying so much about offending other people.” […] A look back at some of his earlier comments on a similar subject adds some context, if not clarity. In 2015, Seinfeld sat down for an episode of The Herd with Colin Cowherd podcast, where he explained his aversion to performing stand-up on college campuses. “I don’t play colleges, but I hear a lot of people tell me, ‘Don’t go near colleges. They’re so PC,’” he said on the show. After giving an example of his teenage daughter using the word “sexist,” he concluded that young people “just want to use these words: ‘That’s racist’; ‘That’s sexist’; ‘That’s prejudice.’ They don’t know what they’re talking about.””

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Jerry Seinfeld Draws Right-Wing Praise for Comments on ‘Extreme Left’

This is such a bummer. Tell me you’re a privileged, entitled, myopic Boomer without telling me you’re a privileged, entitled, myopic Boomer.

It’s interesting to me that he says these legendary sit-coms, none of which were cruel, punching down, or hurtful, but were actually satirizing power, celebrating women, changing societal norms through representation, and using comedy to do it all, wouldn’t exist if “the extreme left” had anything to do with it.

Umm. Who does he think created these shows? And is he really that ignorant? Has this guy never read a single interview with Norman Lear? Or literally anyone in the cast of Mary Tyler Moore? I mean. Come on, man!

Teenagers and college students don’t know what they’re talking about when they tell a privileged, entitled, multimillionaire Boomer that his “jokes” can be hurtful, and maybe he could use his tremendous talent to do comedy that is just as funny without being hurtful. Okay. Got it. Keep saying that, and see how far it gets you, buddy.

Hey, Jerry Seinfeld: when blue checks on Twitter are celebrating you being a dick, it’s not because you’re so funny and such a brilliant comic; it’s because they love how you’re validating what garbage they are. You can’t see that, or don’t care, and that’s such a huge bummer.

[creationcad1]

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