#but he's trying so hard to move past it and he has a strong code of ethics he'll beat you up if you're trash and his partner isn't trash an

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

i just can't see kuboyasu as a yandere, i've failed

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 54

Scalepaw is overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds of his first Gathering and panics.

[Image ID: Scalepaw runs away with + CONDITION: SENSORY OVERLOAD underneath him. Weedfoot, who has - CONDITION: GRIEVING under her, yowls “Scalepaw?” Tempestshade watches behind her. Under them, it says LEVEL UP! FEMALE -> NONBINARY (THEY/THEM).]

Scalepaw walked quietly behind his mother and father, paws already aching from the long walk. Sure, if anyone spoke to him, he’d say he was excited for his first Gathering, and it wasn’t a lie. He wanted to see what they were like! But RippleClan camp could be a loud and overwhelming place at times, so to imagine the sounds of the Gathering…

“I’ve got a lot of friends to introduce you to,” Lavendertwist said, walking alongside Scalepaw. “Gladestep is a WheatClan warrior, you can show off some of your battle moves with him. Snailheart’s been teasing me ever since I came home with this collar, but you’ll like him too.” Lavendertwist rubbed his collar against his shoulder. It was made of black leather and lined with gold dots. Scalepaw flinched when the collar got too close to him. How could his brother stand having that thing around his neck?

“Downstar will be introducing you to the other Clans tonight,” Waspdawn said, jogging past Puddlewhisper and Rustshade to join his little brother. “When she mentions your name, just sit up and let everyone cheer.” Oh stars. More cheering? He’d barely been able to stand it when he became an apprentice! Now all the Clans would be yowling his name?

“Hey, don’t look like that,” Lavendertwist chuckled, gently nudging Scalepaw. “You’ll make good friends here.” Considering Scalepaw already wanted to scream, he didn’t think that was true.

He could hear the crowds already. Their words dug into Scalepaw’s head. He couldn’t help but dig his claws in with each step, his body trying to force him back. His older siblings surrounded him like a guard patrol. They all seemed so strong and noble. So did Weedfoot and James, casually chatting as they approached the brown stone wall leading to the Leader’s Stone.

“Hurry, Wildclaw!” Rattlepelt charged past Scalepaw, free of her fox pelt, carrying a loaded basket. She bumped into Scalepaw, knocking him to the side. Her furless skin rubbed against Scalepaw like claws down his back. He barely gathered his thoughts before Wildclaw pushed past him from the other side, squeezing between him and Lavendertwist.

“Sorry!” Wildclaw called as she and Rattlepelt hurried behind Downstar on the path up the wall.

“You’re going to fall doing that!” Waspdawn yowled.

No. No no no. Scalepaw was on fire. His fur was too thick but too thin at the same time, an insult to the code of the world. His ears were bleeding, he was sure of it. He couldn’t do this. He could not go up there! His feet scrambled across the cold, hard ground. He turned tail and bolted into the forest beyond the path.

“Scalepaw?” Weedfoot called, but her son couldn’t hear her. He could barely hear anything.

Why did everything have to hurt? Why did other cats have to look at him like that? Why couldn’t he be a normal apprentice? Why, why, why? This was supposed to be fun! He was supposed to make friends! How could he ever be a warrior? How could he be the deputy’s son, but not show his face at Gatherings? He could barely talk! He was awful, awful, awful!

Scalepaw wasn’t sure where he was. He was somewhere in SlugClan territory, he knew that at least. But he couldn’t hear the Gathering anymore. There weren’t heavy pelts pressing against him. He could actually think. Well, in a sense. It felt like his body was full of ants, but a deep, unsettling fatigue dragged at his long fur. He paced around a tree, crunching the remnants of fallen leaves. He rubbed his paw on the leaves. The leaves felt good. There weren’t a hundred too-thin, too-thick hairs poking at his skin.

Green eyes shone in the moonlight. Scalepaw froze. The figure’s breathing stung his ears. They took a step forward. It was Tempestshade! What was she—no, they, they revealed the change earlier that moon—what were they doing there?

“Hi,” Tempestshade chirped awkwardly. “I thought I would make sure you didn’t get lost. I, uh, can understand why a Gathering would be so scary.” Scalepaw just stared at them. They lived up to their suffix, Scalepaw hadn’t heard them. Then again, he wasn’t hearing much. Their words still hurt to hear. Scalepaw whined and pulled his paws over his ears. He was such a kit. 

“Why are you acting like that?” Tempestshade asked. Scalepaw had to stop. He had to approach this situation like a warrior. But how could he when everything hurt? “Alright, it seems you won’t answer me. That’s alright, I suppose. I’ve been like that sometimes. I was like that after my trial. And, uh, when I realized Ripplefern was dead.” 

They had? Other people had felt like Scalepaw felt? From the way Rustshade talked at the trial, he made it seem like Tempestshade had no remorse, that they were the epitome of selfishness, possessing the self-centered morals of a kit. Considering Scalepaw felt like a kit, maybe that was alright.

“I know there’s dung-all I can probably do to make this stop before its time, so…” Tempestshade muttered. They scooted closer to Scalepaw. “I can at least keep you company. Is that alright? Oh, you don’t really talk a lot, you can’t say yes… just whine if you don’t want me here, how about that?” Scalepaw stayed quiet. His pelt still burned and his ears still screamed, ringing with the remnants of Tempestshade’s words.

But he wasn’t alone.

(Scalepaw: 7, male, warrior apprentice, lonesome, avid play-fighter)

(Lavendertwist: 20, male, warrior, playful, good singer, good storyteller)

(Waspdawn: 20, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Rattlepelt: 37, female, artisan, fierce, leather artist)

(Wildclaw: 48, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)

(Weedfoot: 103, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Tempestshade: 15, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

Fennelspot develops yellowcough just as Troutpool realizes some of the herb stores went bad.

[Image ID: Fennelspot sits to the side with + CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH written under him. Darkkick comforts Troutpool by saying, “Breathe. Herbs are just the base. You still have ointments and concoctions.”]

(Darkkick: 114, male, warrior, lonesome, talented swimmer, understands nature)

(Troutpool: 15, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Fennelspot: 111, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

Wildclaw fought a big dog and got hurt.

[Image ID: Wildclaw stands with a new update underneath her; + CONDITION: BITE WOUND.]

(Wildclaw: 46, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)

[bawmbo]

Mr. Mems OFFICIAL reference

OKAY!!!!!!!!!! HERE HE IS, OFFICIAL REFERENCES !!!!!!!!! it's a little bit cluttered, they have a *lot* of information on them and i'm really bad with words so i've been struggling to find a way to simplify it a little bit

if there are any questions on them i'd be more than happy to answer !!!! wwoo wooo wooo. my brain is so fried at the moment

i realize, even in the first reference, the text is kind of hard to look at for me, though i have pretty sensitive eyes to colors and high contrast, so i will write (for more reasons than just that abshf) down what the text says there (i also noticed grammar errors. i am so sorry. scrambled egg brain)

for the sake of organization, i am going to put some texts that may be far from each other on the page next to each other MEMORY (original AU, "SE" / lost media AU) (names unknown) (current AU, "Nightwatch AU") ("Dr. / Mr. Mem(s)") - they/he/it pronouns, agender and demiaroace - frustrated easily, strong moral compass, even if questionable - heavily suppressive and has an impressive polker (poker*) face - takes his jobs seriously (mainly, lead Search and Rescue team & trauma therapist / assistant under Dr. Psych) - nostalgia and liminal spaces are important themes - HATES echo flowers. soft spot for kids (at reference) - grumpy old cat, blunt, can be a prick, and occasionally taunting (but working on these behaviors with psych) - forget me nots always carried - around 5'3. at the little creature display, it says "stoner" and "frequents grillby's for fries only" (at reference) arrow pointing towards the star labeling "their soul." next to it, explaining that the star is hot and boils liquid magic to make the mist. memory often puts essential oils in his skull. the star floats over their face and can move. do NOT remove from face (at crutch) optional, mild case of hEDS + unspecified other chronic illnesses (at hand) wedding ring (one half of the omega timeline's (OT's) WORST gay couples (affectionate)) (at leg) has shoes. does not wear them to spite psych. ((but if drawn with them), they are very chunky shoes) NOTE (abilities) (roughly) [SAVE] star (and) soul - memory cannot reset other files :) - this star (/soul) works as a PC (think REALLY old PC) - memory's base file is corrupted - memory gathers code and stories it temporarily in one of two other free slots. if the code matches, then it will go into FILE1 (his file) to try to fix their own corrupted codes. (on the other side of the star it then states, "they have to see another character to "code borrow") - with this / these codes, memory relives others lives from their point of view for a brief moment * (this is simplified) - after the code is gathered, memory can a. project their past (like a movie) on the mist that they produce b. use this code for other tricks, like "UPLOAD." (not elaborated on yet) - does NOT have bones, uses a knife or flare gun instead - information bracket [ FILE1 / SAVE1 (memory's), SAVE2 and SAVE3 (are for others). too much (of anything) at once can overheat the star (the consequences of this include crashing, which is uncommon, or melting). needs water for safe mass mist production. - the star can play doom. if mems allows someone to, they may also code in other forms of media to be played on the mist / from the star, an example being Call of Duty by Psych

[comradeboyhalo]

q!Bad has been trying so hard to burn his bridges so I consider purgatory a win for him! Though will say that I think it's nice that he and Bagi's bridge seem more or less the same? I don't think that his bridge with Bagi burned because she didn't have expectations from him like the others did from not knowing how Bad was before + she's heard him talk about wanting to eat/kill people and him being in the war before and still decided that was the guy she wanted to hang around her - even when they met up and she decided to go into her safe zone, she still gave him a chance to talk with her rather then going 'oh nah actually you're going to kill me so we won't meet at all' or she could have told her teammates on him, gave Bad permission to kill her and has been actively going 'hi Bad!!' when she saw him before the whole transferring team situation, just wanted to ramble that I appreciated the way their friendship works and how I feel like there's not gonna be a difference for them when they go back to the original island

yes! you are so right and i will now ramble!

i see q!bad's friends categorized in two areas: friends who can deal with his demon nature and friends who can't. bagi, despite her strong moral code, has seen bad at his worst, and is able to stomach all of it. she is able to forgive him (even if he may break her trust), understand the way he navigates his relationships, and continue to know that despite his actions, she has his back and he has hers. others who similarly take bad in stride are foolish, tina, aypierre, and etoiles. he may fuck them over, but they all end up shrugging it off and bouncing back. (this, of course, goes especially for foolish).

i would say phil and bad had a good friendship, but purgatory has effectively ruined it. they were just never close enough with each other for phil to understand who bad is at his core. cellbit (from what i observed) seems to hold more immoral actions (i.e cannibalism, murder) with a much heavier weight than bad. yes, he is a dark character, but notice how cellbit needed to be pushed in this direction via external circumstances? meanwhile bad always seemed to be holding off eating people and murder to just "fit in" with society, because these traits are just more innately part of him. and this is why i think bad won't hold a grudge against cellbit for purgatory, but cellbit could.

forever and baghera are a special case in which they became friends with someone who was nice and caring, were able to ignore the dark implications of his moral code, but then couldnt anymore once he began to spiral downwards. theyve both had their purgatory moment with him; they've already seen the lengths he'll go to. its definitely taken a toll on their friendship, but if they were able to move past his torture of ron, they'll be able to move past this too (and they already have: baghera may be opposing him but she's still happy to chat, and forever and bad's relationship has honestly improved in purgatory).

i do think, at the end of the day, bad is the kind of guy that is very easy to hate, but also someone you really want on your side. take tubbo or pac. he was by the far one of the most antagonistic characters to them on the island. but when you're fighting to survive, suddenly that bloodthirsty demon is real nice to have at your back. its why foolish is so careful to prod into bad's plans, to see if their motives line up. i do believe that, even if he burns bridges with majority of characters, he is still someone most characters would want to fight with, rather than against.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

well it's love, make it hurt - chapter fifteen

well it's love, make it hurt series

fifteen: would have been nice to say I knew you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Words: 2.9k

Summary: You and Mando meet again.

Warnings: discussions of genocide, the purge of mandalore, descriptions of grief, survivor's guilt, communication?, talking about feelings??, a tiny bit of groguito

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

9 ABY - Fall

You can’t breathe. Sure, it could be a different ST-70. Maybe all Mandalorians flew them.

But—

You turn your wrist over and stare at your chrono.

You have to try.

You feel like the ghost, now, your limbs cold and prickling. Your feet carry you down the tree to the forest's edge.

It never worked at long distances. But—

If it’s his. If he hasn’t changed the programming.

It pulls right up when you turn the dial.

You press the first button to disable the ground security protocols. It gives no indication of success or failure, but it never had.

Your finger hovers over the button that, if he’s left your chrono coded into the system, will open the ramp.

Your hands shake so badly that you miss the button on the first try and end up jamming your thumb on the screen before getting it right. You’re so busy being mad at your chrono and your stupid nerves that the hiss of the ramp lowering startles you.

The thought of walking up it nearly makes you puke.

It’s funny, you think. You haven’t delved into any of the games you used to play with Mando in five years, but one look at the Crest makes a masochist out of you. That must be it, because otherwise, why would you be stepping into the hull while your chest is screaming?

Time has stood still in the Crest. It’s neat and clean. Your old bed-turned-sofa sits against the wall. You can’t bear to open the bunk or climb up to the cockpit. You can’t move at all, actually, leaden feet stuck in the purgatory of the entrance. Neither in nor out.

But it doesn’t smell right. It doesn’t smell like Mando. Sure, gunpowder and oil permeate the air, but the deep spice of his cooking is completely absent. The scent was so strong before that it clung stubbornly to every soft surface and couldn’t be shaken out.

“You went to all the trouble of that elaborate stunt in the cantina just to come right to the ship?”

The crackle of the modulator startles you enough to whirl around, blaster pointed.

“It worked, you know,” he says quietly, hands up but slowly climbing the ramp.

You back up, blaster unwavering.

“I lost your trail. Smart trick.”

“Then how’d you find me?”

“Got an alert that you disengaged the ground security.” He sighs, and his shoulders slump. “Can we talk?”

“Where’s your baby?” you counter.

“Sleeping in your apartment.”

“What?” You stare, mouth agape, top lip arched in a facsimile of a sneer.

“Well, it’s the safest place in the city, other than this ship. And I wasn’t sure how this was going to go.”

“You left your baby in my apartment. My apartment full of weapons.”

“He’s in the pod, he’ll be fine.”

“You left your baby locked in a pram in an apartment full of weapons.”

“He’s not my baby.”

Mando gives a little shrug with one shoulder.

You stare at him, eyes wide and wild. “That’s... that's worse.”

“I have a monitor.” He presses a button on his vambrace and a speaker crackles. If you listen closely, you can hear soft breathing.

You think something in your brain has snapped. Or exploded. Something critical, maybe. The nausea has been replaced with rage colder than hyperspace. It gives you the nerve to stomp past him down the ramp.

He doesn’t try to stop you. He does, however, follow you.

“Kriff off, Mandalorian.”

“I would, but I have to go with you.”

You whirl around, blaster still in your hand. “Do not follow me.”

“I need to pick up the baby. He’s at your place, remember?”

You scream. You honest-to-stars fucking scream, throwing your blaster in favor of shoving him hard with both hands.

He stumbles back a little. He must have had his guard down; he didn’t really think you’d come at him.

But you do it again, and it’s all the worse to realize he’s just letting you, and nothing is satisfying the burn, the way your teeth ache for a fight. What are you supposed to do? Punch him in his beskar head?

“Fucking coward,” you snarl, gearing up to push him again for lack of a better outlet.

He catches you by both wrists this time. His grip is firm but not painful.

You struggle even though you know it’s over.

He holds still and silent as you spit vitriol and kick at him. He even anticipates when you lunge to sink your teeth into his gloved fingers, yanking your wrists away, and you stumble.

Of course, he pulls you steady, unwavering.

Your chest is heaving; you’re still burning. “Fight back,” you huff. “Fucking fight me back.”

“You don’t want to fight,” he says, infuriatingly calm. “You want to hurt.”

“Don’t you start that shit.”

“I’m not going to, cyar’ika. But I know you.”

“Stop,” you yell. “You don’t get to say that or anything to me. You’re dead.” Your voice breaks humiliatingly on the last sentence.

“I’m sorry.”

You wrench out of his grasp as he repeats it.

You let yourself fall on the ground on your ass., leaning back on your hands in the damp field to stare straight out at the trees.

He sits down next to you, wise enough to keep a safe distance. You hate that it’s easier when you don’t have to look at him. That you can feel him, and you know, you just know it’s really him.

You close your eyes and shake your head. “S’not real. I had a bad ronto, and I’m going to wake up in the fresher.”

“That happen a lot?”

“Nah, just the once.”

“That's good. I gave one to the kid.”

You tip your head back and stare up at the stars. "How are you here?” It’s just a breath louder than the breeze.

“My tribe did not live on Mandalore, but on one of its moons,” he begins but pauses to think. “There was a... complicated political history, one I was too young to understand, that split the Mandalorians. My people built a home on Concordia.”

“You always said—”

“I know. I’m sorry. At the time, it was simpler. Easier than explaining something I didn’t know enough about.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” you mumble. “You didn’t owe me anything. Still don’t.”

He’s quiet for a minute. “Do you truly believe that?”

“Why now?” It comes out softer than you meant it to. Defeated.

He sighs. “At first, I couldn’t. I tried to reach you. But from the sound of it, I made it to Nevarro about three months after you left.”

The nausea comes back with a vengeance. “Oh.”

“I understand, now. Why you left,” he says.

It doesn’t matter. You’re fractured, like the next words out of his mouth will shatter you.

You hadn’t waited.

You had run away.

The horror must show on your face because he does a double take and sits up on his knees, turning to you. “No, sweetheart—”

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Maybe not. It was selfish. But I’ve been looking for you in every crowd for the last five years, and when I finally got a lead, I couldn’t help it. Told myself I’d just see if you were alright. But then I got here. And you were. You were safe, almost happy. I had about worked up the nerve to walk away.”

“And then I tackled you and held a knife to your throat?”

“No. Then I saw you wearing my tunic.”

"What, were you watching me sleep through my window?"

He's quiet for a beat too long.

"Wow. You were."

"And you were using it on purpose."

“It’s just a shirt.”

“Is it? If it is, I can go.”

You both fall silent.

You wrap your arms around your knees and stare at the ground. “I grieved for you,” you whisper. “It’s so stupid. I know it's nothing compared to what you've been through.” You wipe your eyes on your sleeve. "And it’s not like we were together. ” You fail to keep the bitterness from your voice.

“It would have been so much easier if we just… never saw each other again. I would have missed you, but I always knew how it would go. But the idea of you—” Your throat tightens, and you stop, struggling to take a deep breath.

You thought you were over this part. Instead, it's like cutting open a freshly-cauturized vibroblade gash. “I wish you hadn’t come. It was cruel of you.”

The night is quiet, save for the gorgs. What feels like hours pass as you sit side by side in silence.

“You never said it back," he says, not without a trace of sorrow.

You look up, the sudden noise catching you off guard. “What?”

“You said we weren’t together, but that was your boundary. Your choice from the beginning. ‘Hunting and fucking, nothing complicated.’ I thought, for a while, that things had changed. That you just needed time. But you never said it back, and then you left.”

“Never said what back?” Something is itching in your brain, something horrible and sickly. Oh, no. No, no, no.

He tilts his head, and you realize you’ve said the last bit aloud.

“No, that was a dream. We were on a beach, which never happened, so it was a dream.”

“That night? After… after we left Axis?”

You bury your face in your hands. This cannot be happening. You don’t know if you’ll survive this.

“You might have been falling asleep, cyar’ika, but I said it.”

You shake your head. “No. It wasn’t real.”

“It was. I said I loved you.”

“Stop. Stop it. You’ve done enough; fine, I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, but you can’t do this to me.” You dig your nails into the flesh of your forearm and focus on breathing, but the world has narrowed to a roaring wind in your ears and black tendrils taking over your vision.

It's been three years since you've blacked out like that, but it must have happened, because he’s holding you up when you can feel again.

“There you go, sweetheart, just breathe,” he’s murmuring. His bare hands are on you; you can feel the heat on the back of your head and middle of your spine. Your face is burning, and throat flayed.

“What doesn’t matter?” he asks.

“What?”

“You said it doesn’t matter.”

You shake your head to clear the storm and pull away from him, thankful that he lets go without a fuss. “Oh. It doesn’t matter, Mando. It doesn’t matter what was or wasn’t said. Not now.”

“Why? Why doesn’t it? It feels like it matters a lot.”

"We've lived completely different lives; we're not the same people we were then."

"We're not so changed that we can't understand one another."

You’re tired. You’re too tired to move or think carefully enough for this conversation. The panic always drains you, and it’s as if your body is finally catching up to the last three hours. Instead of answering, you just bury your face back in your hands and groan.

“Hey,” he says, reaching over to pluck a leaf from your hair. “I don’t want to leave things this way. Will you stay? Just for tonight, so we can talk in the morning.”

“I don't think that’s a good idea.”

“You fainted. I don’t think you should try to walk home. Unless you want me to give you a ride?”

“Don’t think you can land the Crest at my apartment.”

“No, with the phoenix. The jetpack.”

That wakes you up a little. “No. Absolutely not. No, thank you. I’ll sleep here with the gorgs.”

“You’ll get eaten by a puffer pig.”

“Will not.”

“They can be vicious when they want to.”

“They love me,” you say and wish you hadn’t.

“I bet they do,” and it’s sickeningly soft, not a hint of teasing. “Please, cyar’ika? I’ll sleep in the cockpit; you can have the bunk to yourself.”

You sigh. You don’t think you have it in you to scale the fucking spires and Oga’s roof again. You could go around, but that’ll add another hour. By then, the fucking suns will be up.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you say.

“Okay,” he lies. “C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

You let him help you up but pull away when he tries to support you. You don’t need the help; you could stumble around the Crest and find the bunk even if you were fully asleep. All these years haven’t changed that.

When you lay down, that’s the end of it for you. All your energy slips out, and you barely notice when he tucks the blanket in.

You meet the kid first thing in the morning. Like, first thing. Two hours later, with the three Batuuan stars beaming down from the cabin to the hull.

You meet him immediately because he climbs onto the bunk, and you startle awake, reaching to draw your blaster. Lucky for the kid, you left it in the fucking field overnight.

You sit up, and he climbs into your lap and looks up at you with huge brown eyes that should frankly be weaponized. He tilts his head and coos.

“Are you the baby?” What a stupid question, you think through the haze of too little sleep and too much everything else.

He grabs your hand with three little fingers. It’s painfully cute. And painfully painful. He has some sharp little nails.

You look around the bunk. It’s the same as it ever was, except for a fabric draped across the ceiling. The sharpness starts to grow again behind your sternum, but it’s cut off when the kid makes another sound. He reaches up, and you inexplicably lean down. His little hand touches your cheek.

“Yeah, okay, you’re very cute. Did you need something?”

He looks up at you, unblinking, and you find yourself in the galaxy’s strangest staring contest for a minute. Then he yawns and reaches his arms up, and it clicks.

“Oh! That’s your bed, isn’t it?” You lift him and help him climb in. He nestles into the hammock and falls right to sleep.

You think about doing the same. Just going back to bed, or at least pretending to, so you don’t have to face Mando.

Who, of course, pops up in the doorway. He was always so fucking quiet; it only got worse after he stopped wearing his armor around the ship.

Now, though, he's fully clad. He has a hand on his helmet, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I tried to keep him away.”

“It’s fine,” you shrug. “I kind of stole his bedroom.”

“No, it’s okay; he sleeps in the pod all the time.”

Another awkward silence falls. Your head is pounding.

“C’mon, I got breakfast.”

“You got breakfast, or you made breakfast? Because I haven’t had to eat rations in five years.” You accept his peace offering and slide out of the bunk.

He closes it behind you.

“You trap him in there, too?”

“No, he can get out. This is just in case you yell at me again.”

So much for the fucking peace. You scowl and rub your left arm.

He sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this, either.” He waits a moment. “It’s a platter and caf from the docking bay.”

He’s got you there, and he knows it. He brings you the caf as soon as you sit down.

You brace yourself when the modulator picks up an inhale, but when he speaks, it’s not what you were afraid of.

“He’s a foundling. I’ve been quested to return him to his kind.”

“Oh.”

“He was a bounty, first. It’s a long story, but one I would very much like to tell you someday.”

And there it is. You close your eyes, lips pursing.

“I know you said it doesn’t matter. And if it’s what you really want, I’ll leave you alone,” he says.

You chew on your lip but don’t speak, which he takes as an invitation.

“Or, you could come with me.” He raises a hand when you open your mouth. “Just for a few days. I have to leave today to follow a lead before it’s too late. I can come back. Or you could come with us.”

“I have a whole life here,” you warn.

“Is that a yes?”

You groan. It shouldn’t be. You should go to your apartment, pack up your things, and take the next ride out of here so he can’t find you again. That would be the smart choice, to protect yourself.

But what you say is, “Fine.”

“Okay.” He tries to weigh his options, how best to proceed without spooking you. He wants to tear his gloves off and grab your hands, to pull you into his lap.

He doesn’t. He knows you’re not wrong. The things you both have lived through while apart are not insignificant. The pain has forced you to grow in different directions.

But it aches to have you sitting there, to have you home, and to not really have you at all.

So he does the only thing he can think of in that moment. Something desperate but not reckless. He’s thought about little else since the encounter with Gideon.

“Cyar’ika,” he begins cautiously, fingers tapping against the table. “I need to tell you something.”

You look up, lips pursed but eyes soft. Open, willing to chance what he’s about to say, but not without a hint of fear.

“My name is Din.”

*title from "Carpathia" by Taking Back Sunday

[zuppizup]

Rumour has it… (sneak peek)

So this idea has been living rent free in my head for the past 24 hours… This is part of a bigger WIP fic, but this little section felt like it could stand alone and so I yeet. Unsurprisingly, to anyone who knows me even a wee bit, this going to be a multi-chapter but it begins at an inn…

———

Rayla flopped onto her bed, sighing happily. “Oooh, this is comfy.” She turned to look at Callum, her eyes falling onto something just by her face. Sitting up, she poked it. “Huh, someone left a wee stone on my pillow.” She frowned. “You don’t think it’s some kind of coded message, do you?”

“A what?” Callum sat up, leaning in closer, then began to laugh hysterically.

“What?” She huffed, pouting.

“It’s not a stone or a message.” Callum shook his head. “It’s a mint.”

“A what?” Rayla looked back at the thing, a mint apparently, electing to poke it again.

“It’s like a sweet little treat.” Callum nodded at it. “Try it.”

“Why would they put a treat on my pillow?” She picked it up, frowning to find it a little tacky. “Ugh, it’s sticky! What if it got in my hair? Or Stella’s fur.”

Callum rolled his eyes, still snickering.

She sniffed it, finding the aroma unlike anything she’d smelled before. It was not exactly enticing. Experimentally, she licked it, raising her eyebrows in surprise. It was sweet and fresh and… cold? She looked at Callum, finding him watching her, his cheeks a little pink. “What?”

He blinked, shaking himself as he looked around briefly. “Just eat it already.”

Taking a deep breath, Rayla popped the mint in her mouth, pausing to contemplate. “Huh...”

“Nice?” Callum leaned in a little closer, his attention seemingly focused solely on her.

She took a deep breath, pausing when the intake of air felt cold against her lips. What sort of magic was this? It almost reminded her of…

“Aspiro Frigis!” Callum took a deep breath, then breathed out over the suspended rune.

A strong breeze whipped around her, the air in the room suddenly feeling much cooler.

“Better?” He grinned goofily at her.

“A bit.” She snorted, lying back on the cold flagstones. “When’d you learn that one?”

“Last night.” Callum lay next to her. “I know you hate the humid nights here and it’s been hard for you to adjust to Katolis after-”

Rayla bit her lip, blinking back tears as she turned to stare at the ceiling. Callum and Ez had been so nice, offering her a place to stay and she was trying really hard to settle into life in Katolis. Still, it was difficult to accept she might never see the Silvergrove, her home, ever again.

She needed to give it time, it had only been a few weeks since her Ghosting.

Callum sighed, moving a little closer to her and taking her hand. “I just thought it would be nice if you felt more comfortable.”

She took a shaky breath, turning to look at him. “Thanks, Callum.”

“Anytime, Rayla. I’d do anything for you.” He smiled softly, moving a little closer to her. “And it’s a good excuse to learn more magic!” His eyes practically twinkled with amazement.

Rayla rolled her eyes, leaning forward to kiss him. She blinked in surprise, pulling back for a moment.

“What?” Callum looked concerned.

“Your lips are freezing!” She licked her bottom lip to confirm.

Callum touched his mouth. “Huh, must be the spell.”

“Wow, you reckon?” She deadpanned, snorting.

“I guess we’ll have to find a way to warm them up.” Callum grinned, leaning in to kiss her again.

“Not nice?”

She looked up, startled out of her thoughts by a very present Callum. Pushing the past from her mind, she hoped he didn’t notice her sudden blush. “No, it’s… different is all.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat, the memories of a much simpler time still painful. She was here with Callum now though and she didn’t want to spoil this happy time with past regrets. “It’s lovely.” She smiled at him. “Really lovely.”

“Here.” He picked up the mint from his pillow and held it out to her.

“No!” She put her hands up, shaking her head. “You eat it, dummy.”

“I’ve had plenty of mints before.” Callum shook his head, reaching for her hand and placing the mint in her palm. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone like them this much. You zoned out for a full minute!”

“Thanks, Callum.” She closed her fist around the little treat, smiling softly at him as she continued to suck the mint. “Mmm… I could get used to this.”

“Well, maybe it’ll become a thing at the castle when we get back.” Callum shrugged, looking suddenly shy.

———

Might also be hinting at this head canon. 😉

Hoping to have chapter one of, what will be a very silly fic, posted by the end of the weekend.

[thehandwixard]

reverse unpopular opinion: the big kingdom hearts

its hard to narrow it down to any one thing but if i had to its the series's immense understanding of tragedy and catharsis and what makes pain important. its a deeply earnest series but not in a way (at the best of times) where it feels naive, just that it Cares about what its saying. kingdom hearts says it is important to love, even if you can't remember that love, even if you don't really remember what its for, because that love will keep existing. one of the moments of kh that sticks out to me the most (without spoilers lol) is from coded, which makes the argument that pain is good and necessary because by understanding another person's pain, you share it. it doesnt focus on healing the pain, or moving past it, it says "this is important, and you should feel this, and you shouldn't feel this alone." chain of memories says fear is a sign of a strong heart. it says someone will care, someone will miss you, and it is sad what you are going through.

like the fundamental story of kh1 is that sora's entire world is destroyed, and he's thrust into a situation he has no way of conceptualizing, and so hes basically stuck on an extended road trip with two guys bringing him Somewhere and they care about him enough but they dont really know how to talk to kids and like. yeah sora is having fun sometimes, hes feeling ok sometimes, but most of the time its just underpinned by this deep sadness of "everything is gone, and its horrible. and he doesnt get to express that in that game until its too late. smiles serenely.

its just. its a very good tragic series and a very good series about confusion and pain and tragedy and just. hearing someone out. kh2 has my absolute favorite moment related to this but its both spoilers and incredibly difficult to explain without context its just. ill try. what if there was a boy who had to disappear to bring your friend back. and you can do it and your friend will never know this happened and everything can be fine but that boy used to be your friend too. and you care so deeply about your friend you cannot feel any malice towards these people who are sapping his strength and memories, and you save the only existing picture of this boy in a box for your friend to find. to validate his existence in any small way you can, because it mattered that he existed, the things he cared about mattered. your own guilt matters too. what if everything had to turn out this way, but it hurts now, and it might hurt forever, but you can still claw your way to genuine catharsis and peace

LISTEN TO KAIRI's THEME AND YOU WILL UNDERSTAND THE HOPE AND MELENCHOLY AND WISTFUL TRAGEDY YOU WILL HAVE FRIENDS AND YOUR PATHS WILL DIVERGE AND YOU WILL DESTROY YOUR WORLD JUST TO LEAVE IT. you will be jealous, and this is tragic, you will be lonely, and this is tragic, you will lose yourself and the things you love, but the love meant something. what matters to you means something.

[madeofmelodies]

Track 2 — the experiment

General information:

Specimen: Homunculus Height: 6’2 (185 cm) Age: Unknown - looks mid 20s Body type: Lean musculature Hair color: Faded blond - close to platinum. Eye color: Fuchsia - might wear brown contacts on occasion Occupation: Host - occasionally takes jobs as an escort for social events (has one trusted employer) Likes: Music (sounds in general), citrusy flavors, touch, colorful sights, singing, walking aimlessly, talking with double meanings Dislikes: Screeching loud noise, sugary things, not being able to move (restrains or enclosed spaces), needles, doctors, being ignored Items he usually carries on him: Headphones (commonly used to block sounds or listen to music), portable ashtray, cigarettes, phone, a lollipop

On Love

While commitment isn’t his strong-suit, it doesn’t mean Delic doesn’t genuinely love. His love, however, is an extension of his need to belong in a world he generally feels alienated in. As a result, he can be quick to fall in and out of love just as he can oftentimes ‘love’ more than one person at a time. Due to this, he might be regarded as fickle or a playboy, assumptions he regards with distaste or, at worst, contempt.

On The Experiment

Being a Homunculus means Delic doesn’t age at the same rate as humans. He is a creation of Nebula, a research company publicly known as a large pharmaceutical but which has a long history of underground work trying to gain the secret to immortality - their efforts oftentimes unethical and downright vicious. Delic is the result of one experiment, his looks resembling the man known as ‘the Beast of Ikebukuro’ specifically because his blood was used as an attempt to also recreate Shizuo’s strength. Though the latter goal is vastly deemed a failure, Delic does have the ability to heal at a surprisingly quick rate and even through wounds that should be deemed fatal. That said, he hasn’t been inflicted with every wound possible.The process, however, is neither quick nor easy, and he tends to become hungry and fatigued afterwards.

Though Delic currently lives on his own and has been seemingly absolved of any shackles from Nebula itself, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s still being observed. The notion becomes more predominant when occurrences revolving around him are swept under the rug, or when the legitimacy of his identity is blatantly overlooked - as if there was someone pulling strings.

On Life

Delic may not enjoy every aspect of his life, but he’s surprisingly easy-going and good-spirited for someone who deals with various issues in his background. If one was to ask him what his biggest gripe was with life, his response would be: Being confused with Shizuo Heiwajima. That is because, even if Shizuo isn’t trying to make life hard for him, a good number of the people he beats up tend to confuse Delic for Shizuo and target him as a result. Despite this, he is in conversational terms with Shizuo though not always amicable.

Past this, Delic is generally approachable and easy to talk to. In fact, there might just be a provocative charm about him considering people tend to open up to him without the initial intention to do so. Fortunately, he doesn’t mind, particularly because he does get to learn about people and understanding the ‘human experience’ he’s inherently missing. Some people might mistake this attentive part of him as maturity, however the blond can be immature, petty, impatient, and even ill-tempered at his worse. Past that, it’s important to remember his sympathy is moderately twisted, the same as his morals and ethics.

On Work

Though originally having been recruited for his looks, his job as a host has allowed him to become better acquainted with social cues, interactions, ethics, and morals, just as it has shown him to maneuver the spot-light of a conversation with ease. Intriguingly, the line of work has molded Delic into someone who is generally well-intended and abides by his employer’s code of conduct, but who will be unapologetically selfish should it be in his best interest. Similarly, it might be because of his work as a host that a lot of his interactions and flings are predominantly with women. This said, he has occasionally hosted, and escorted men without any form of contention.

—

Delic’s design is based from a Cover of the Durarara!! OST called “Psychedelic Dreams.” And he is recognized by the fandom as an ‘alternate’ of Shizuo Heiwajima. As far as looks go, he generally resembles Shizuo. This said, there are various visual factors that differentiate him from the well known beast of Ikebukuro. The most prominent difference are his bright fuchsia-colored eyes, which most people believe are contacts. My rendition of him plays on the concept of the universe of Durarara!! (generally 2010s Tokyo, Japan) being the same as Baccano!! and therefore assuming supernatural entities, such as immortals and homunculus, exist in the world the same as a dullahan, vampire, and other fantastical creatures.

[lastheavens]

Letters to your past self

I find it quite common to write letters to your future self, but never to your past self. I wrote myself a letter in 6th grade that was supposed to be received upon graduating high school, but I don't think I ever got it. I wrote a letter to myself freshman year during confirmation class that I did receive after graduation. I've written a couple birthday emails to myself. However, I don't think I have ever taken the time to respond. I know that my younger self will never be able to read it but I feel like they deserve to know how life is going for me. I'm not in the same place I was then and my life has turned out so different than what I imagined for myself. So here we go.

Dear 6th grade me,

While I don't remember the contents of your letter very well I would like to let you know that you did get into a very good college. It's better than you could've imagined and you love it even though you're struggling a bit. No you didn't go through with becoming a zoologist and getting to meet giraffes. Nor did you ever pursue anything with art. You will learn in middle school that your little robotics interest is way bigger than you think. You're pursuing aerospace engineering now and you absolutely love it. You're so much happier now. You moved on from the bullying for the most part and you don't have many friends but you are doing so much better now. And no. You didn't get to eat a sandwich on the Sandwich Islands or in Sandwich, Massachusetts. Maybe one day kiddo. Make the most of that summer you'll never see her again. I love you.

Dear me from Oct 17th, 2018,

You wrote this letter to be delivered on my 14th birthday. It was only a few months later so not much changed in that time and I never felt the need to respond. Now though, I have so much more to say to you. You decided to go to that all girls school. You made some amazing friendships and become a lot more social. You were in fact not super lonely at your new school. You still keep in touch with the girl you befriended your first week of school. She went back to public school but was still your best friend. You stopped talking to everyone you knew in middle school. Not because you necessarily wanted to, but because they just weren't the people you needed in your life anymore. Some were life long friendships but they clearly weren't strong enough to last since none of them even really reached out to you. You do not make memes anymore. Also you are trans.

Dear me from Jun 27, 2020,

Hi love. Thank you for the birthday message. High school was typical high school. It had it's ups and downs but overall you got a lot out of it. You did run for robotics captain! And electrical lead your junior year! And you started a coding club. You were even Italian Honor Society Secretary! You didn't chicken out on anything and took so many opportunities. You even have club leadership your freshmen year of college. You still haven't come out to your parents and you probably never will, but you're very open on the internet and in public. You have also come to a pretty concrete conclusion on your gender identity. I know it was hard figuring that out going to a catholic school and with your parents, but you did it. You haven't transitioned yet and probably won't for a long time, but you're happy. You use he/they pronouns now. A bit of a big switch from then. As for that next question, I'm so sorry sweetheart. You are months away from the worst thing that will happen to you in your high school years. You were so wrong about that heart of gold. You're healing well now though and you're very happy in your current relationship. You are still doing art and you have figured out what you want to do! You did decided aerospace was what your heart was set on and got into one of the best schools for it. Robotics engineering isn't quite what you thought it was lol. You still try to talk to your friends but you're very busy and you don't keep in touch with many people, not even your parents. I didn't glow up quite yet but I am much happier with myself now. You were right, I do love myself, and I wish you did too. I am still working through a lot but I'm so much better than I was then. For your final question, am I happy? I think so. At least for the most part. Things are going well for me, or at least as well as they can be. I love you too past me <3. Buckle up for the next few years, they're gonna be hard but you're gonna make it through like an absolute champ. You did pretty well on the just keep going part but remember there is so much life left to live. There is so much you will get to experience.

[sweettoothedtrickster13]

On the Run Chapter 45

Fandom: Outlast Whistleblower DLC

Tags: OFC, Waylon Park/Eddie Gluskin, Slow Burn

Summary: Waylon feels guilty.

Notes: *rolls up on a skateboard 8 months late with a smoothie* What’s up, bitches? Actually, sorry about the long wait. But uh. It’s here. Yay.

AO3 Portal

Waylon pets and spends time with most of the chickens, with the exception of Izzy because she only give affection sometimes. And today, or at least right now, appears to not be one of those times. He gently picks up Gigi, who had taken up residence on his lap, and sets her on the ground. She runs off and he stands, brushing feathers from his clothes. He walks over to his tomato seedlings and smiles at them- they’re doing well. He’d watered them that morning, and they’re stronger in the dirt. 

He goes to the house and knocks on the glass door, and thankfully Eddie looks up. He nods and comes outside. 

“Ready to carve again,” he asks, shutting the door behind him. 

“Yes.” Waylon sits on the step again and Eddie sits next to him. Waylon picks up his working project and examines it. It doesn’t look like much of anything except a block of wood with the corners cut off, but he can see the pencil lines and knows that’s the final project. Besides, he knows that the first forays into anything doesn’t look like much of anything- the first line of code doesn’t look like much, the seeds of plants don’t look like much. He anticipated woodcarving to be the same. He puts the knife to the wood again and starts to peel off small curls. 

Eddie was right; it’s meditative. He still has to pay attention- cutting off his thumb doesn’t seem like a fun time- but he’s starting to get it. All he has to focus on is the project. That’s part of why he wants Eddie there; he gets so engrossed in any project he enjoys that a Murkoff employee could probably stand in front of him and he wouldn’t notice. That and he enjoys the man’s company. He could always ask Jess, too, but there’s something about Eddie. He also thinks that Eddie needs his companionship more than Jess does. Jess cleared the air after her brief self-imposed solitary confinement; Eddie still needs comfort after what the Groom did. And Waylon needs to familiarize himself with him again, too. He’d missed him. He smiles softly, remembering how he had spied Eddie being so gentle and playful with the kids. The other man hadn’t seen him, so he had stood on the corner and just watched. The kids had laughed, seemingly without a care in the world. They didn’t know what Eddie did in the past- he was just a new face that could play with them. And a big enough person to cling to without being shaken off. Waylon’s face had warmed after seeing Eddie so easily move with the kids clinging to his legs- he’s just so strong. Waylon had turned away after that, returning to Agatha. She hadn’t done anything other than smile slightly and squeeze his elbow, but he had still felt his cheeks warm further. 

Waylon pauses, knife hand stilling. He glances at Eddie out of the corner of his eye, but Eddie seems not to notice. Or if he does, maybe he just thinks that he’s trying to decide where to cut next. He feels guilt twist in the pit of his stomach, crawling its way to his breastbone. He knows he’s married, that Lisa is waiting for him back in Boulder, but it’s hard to remember that when Eddie is right here. And he and Eddie have gone through so much together, he’s sure that’s part of the reason why. That and he’s strong and handsome, that traitor voice whispers. He shakes his head, erasing that thought. He’s married. He glances at his left hand, but his wedding ring is long gone, back at Mount Massive. He’s married with kids. That thought just makes the guilt twist tighter, this time around his lungs. He exhales slowly and keeps carving. 

They sit like that until the light starts to fail, and then Waylon puts his wood down with no prompting. He covers his knife and he and Eddie go inside. He brings the knife up to his room and makes a mental note to go to town and see if they have bats. He’d feel a lot more comfortable with one of those in his room for defense than with a little hobby woodcarving knife. 

When he comes back down, Eddie and Trevor are on the couch and Jess is curled up on an armchair with the laptop. He stands near the foot of the stairs, unsure. But he soon recovers and walks forward. “Do you want me to show you how to use your phone,” he asks. Eddie looks up with a surprised expression. 

“Sure.”

Trevor moves over to the other armchair and lets Waylon sit on the couch. Waylon extends his hand and Eddie puts his phone in it. Waylon touches the screen, surprised when the home screen comes up automatically. “Ok, you should set up a lock code.”

“A what?”

“A series of numbers or a word that you’ll remember, that will lock out anyone who tries to get in.”

“You can do that?”

Waylon fights his shock- Eddie’s never touched a computer, he probably didn’t have a smartphone. And he seemed surprised when Waylon showed him the Internet, so that’s just more proof he either didn’t have a phone entirely or just had a flip phone. “Yes. I’ll show you.” He scoots right next to Eddie. “Ok, see that gear,” he asks, pointing at the app.

“Yes.”

“Touch it.” Eddie does so, and it opens the settings menu. “Find ‘privacy.’” Eddie reads through the options and taps it. “Now lockscreen.” Eddie opens it. “Now you can choose whether you want a word or a number,” Waylon says, handing his phone back. Eddie ponders for a moment and then chooses one, tapping on the screen with his thumb. Waylon takes that to mean he chose a number- he doesn’t do that when he texts. Granted, he’s only seen him send a text once- Jess was out one day and Eddie had put his phone flat on the table and used the ‘hunt and peck’ technique. Then Waylon had shown him how to hold the phone so he can use his thumbs. 

Eddie hands the phone back. “Ok. What do you want to learn,” Waylon asks, and Eddie thinks. 

“Could you walk me through finding the Internet?”

Waylon nods and points at the screen without touching it. “See that symbol?”

Eddie peers at the screen. “It looks like a curly fox wrapped around a blue ball.”

“Right. That’s a browser.” Eddie looks up at him. “Ok. It’s what people can use to search.” Eddie nods. “Tap it.”

Eddie does so. He extends his hand and Waylon hands the device over, their fingers brushing. Eddie painstakingly types in ‘Mount Massive Walrider’ and gets a list of websites.

“How do I know which one to choose?”

“You can go by the order they’re in. The ones at the top are generally the most relevant, but sometimes it’s worth it to scroll a bit.” 

“What’s scrolling?”

Waylon leans over and moves his finger up, making the screen roll that way. “That’s how you read more.”

Eddie nods and seems to read for a second, then points to one. “This one is safe, right?” Waylon looks- the New York Times. 

“I’d say so.”

Eddie clicks it. 

“Anything else,” Waylon asks.

“The news said that they uncovered files from the Congresswoman,” Eddie starts, and Waylon nods. “Could you help me get through them?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you.” He goes back to his phone. 

“If you need any more help, don’t be afraid to ask,” Waylon says. Eddie looks up and nods, smiling a little. 

“I’ll ask you.”

“Good,” Waylon nods, leaning away from him and scooting back a bit. His leg and side are warm from where it was near Eddie, and his hand tingles slightly. He touches it with his other hand, rubbing it. Eddie seems engrossed in the article he pulled up and doesn’t question it. 

“Any more news on that Congresswoman,” Waylon asks Jess. 

“No,” Jess says. “But they just reported on it, said it would happen in a week. And we have the video call tomorrow.”

Waylon feel guilt twist in his stomach again- he forgot. How could he forget seeing his wife? He loves his wife. 

“Plus, Congressional inquests take time,” Jess continues, unaware of his plight. “Even though they said they’ve gathered enough evidence, that doesn’t mean it won’t take longer to get more. Hopefully VIRALeaks nudges them along in that respect.”

Waylon listens to Jess’ quiet typing and clicking and relaxes back into the couch. He stands and the three look at him. “Gonna close the chickens in for the night,” he says, and leaves to go to the backyard. He looks around, but sees no chickens. He puts his head inside the coop and counts them- all are present. He nods and closes the door, barring it. He sits on the back porch and looks at the stars. 

He’s lived in cities all his life. He’s never seen the stars as clearly as he does right now. He feels so small, but in a good way. Like his problems are small, too. He knows some people look up at the night sky and feel intimidated and insignificant, but he doesn’t feel that way. At least he hasn’t yet. He’s seen photos taken from the Hubble Telescope, seen galaxies. The stars are just another part of that. He imagines each one having planets rotating around it, just like theirs. Somewhere Murkoff hasn’t touched. In the greater scheme of things, things have a way of working out and he knows that. But sometimes it means taking a step back to see that. 

He stands and goes back inside, finding Jess and Eddie cooking dinner silently. He sits at the island alone- Trevor’s still in his chair- and watches them. They work well together, never getting in each other’s way. He’s never heard them say anything to each other except to divvy up the tasks, and even that stopped weeks ago- they’ve worked out a rhythm by now. When he was cooking alone, it was more enthusiasm than skill, even though he’s cooked before. It was an unfamiliar kitchen, and even though he helped stock it and the appliances are new, he couldn’t help but start reaching for ingredients based on where they are in his own kitchen with Lisa. He sighs, making Jess look up and shoot him a concerned look. He shakes his head, and she nods and pays attention to cooking again. 

He pulls the laptop to him and looks up if chickens eat flower seeds out of the ground. They don’t, so he can plant the seeds Agatha gave him. Speaking of Agatha, Waylon needs to see her tomorrow- he needs to talk this out with a neutral party. 

“Trevor,” he asks when they sit down to eat. The man hums a question. “Could you arrange for Agatha to come pick me up tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Trevor says, fishing out his phone. He sends a quick text and they eat. Trevor gets a response as they’re clearing up. “She’ll do it. Told me to tell you when you get up.”

“Thanks, Trevor,” Waylon smiles softly. 

“Any time.” Trevor rolls up his sleeves and washes dishes. 

Waylon heads to bed not long after. He wishes the three good night and gets them in return, and he walks upstairs. He wishes he could carve again, but he wants to do it with Eddie. He groans, putting his hands over his face. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way. He turns out his light and tries to sleep, thinking it’ll help to get his thoughts in order before he sees Agatha. 

[mileapokp1677]

Three Steps to Win You (CH 28)

Title: Three Steps to Win You

Rating: M

Pairing: Daddy Chan/Tankhun, Kinn/Porsche, Vegas/Pete

Category: M/M, AU Nerd-Jock

Summary: Accidentally, scientist Tankhun Theerapanyakul embarrassed footballer Captain Chan "Daddy" Knight in front of his coach, teammates and fans. He had to fulfill three tasks from the captain before his apology was accepted.

Chapter 28

(Chan POV)

The Knight Residence 

Chan couldn’t sleep. For the past two hours, he just tossed around in his bed, trying to sleep without success. Training this morning will be hell. 

No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stop thinking about Tankhun. About Tankhun’s performance. How sexy and seductive his movements on the stage were he forgot to breathe. About Tankhun’s demeanor. How it sent different kinds of signals to his brain and body, Chan could only hope he didn’t read them wrong. About their slow dance to one of his favorite songs. About their kisses…. Chan replaying them over and over in his mind. 

How smooth Tankhun's skin felt when he dragged his lips from his forehead to both of his cheeks, nose, and lips. How soft those lips were, how good it felt when those lips moved along the movements of his own lips. It was addictive and Chan wanted more. So much more.

Chan unconsciously touched his own lips with his fingers. Tankhun certainly had left his print there, and it was impossible to erase or forget. How Chan wished they were actually involved in a real relationship, not a fake one like now, so he didn't have to use Kinn as an excuse just to kiss Tankhun. It was such a dirty trick. Never knew he could be that cowardly. 

FUCK!!!

The award night was less than two months away, and Chan had yet to make any progress in courting the sassy scientist. He was fully aware that he was always overthinking everything related to Tankhun. One would think he had never had the experience of chasing someone he liked at his age. Admittedly, the bitterness he got from his previous relationships played a big role, also bits of advice that he got from Porsche. But, despite all that, he was still the one who's going through with all of this. He should be more confident in relying on his own mind and instincts.

Because, if he didn't do something, he would truly lose Tankhun. And if, in the end, he still didn’t get to be together with the doctor who has bewitched him, body and soul, at least Chan has tried. Instead of losing Tankhun because he was too scared to take action. After all, acting without taking risks can't be done. It was unthinkable. 

It’s now or never, Chan Knight! 

******

Monday Morning -- the Hattrick

(Tankhun POV)

As usual, Kim dropped Tankhun in front of the Hattrick at exactly 7.30 am for his morning coffee. Before getting out of the car, as his habit (he can't help it, his brother is so damn cute when he's annoyed), Tankhun was trying to ruffle his youngest brother's hair which was left long by the owner -- it was almost touching his shoulders now, when suddenly Kim gave a code to Tankhun to turn his face around to look out the car window.

There were dozens of things Tankhun could think of that caught Kim's attention at the time, but the great Captain of BSFC, who stood in front of Kim’s car window, wearing track pants, a hoodie, and sunglasses while holding two cups of hot coffee, was certainly NOT on the list. 

Chan!? What the fuck is he doing here!? Is he trying to repeat the events of their first meeting!?

Kim had already rolled down the car window before Tankhun could react. 

"Chan! What the fuck?" whispered Tankhun.  

“Good morning, baby. Hot Americano?” offered Chan as he held out his right hand to Tankhun. “Large size, extra strong, just how you like it. I promise I put no caramel in it.” 

This bastard can still make a joke!?

“Kim! Unlock the door, please,” requested Tankhun, who was a bit panicky, he kept looking at their surroundings. “Get in, Chan!” 

“Take your coffee first, Doctor, I need my hand to open the door,” said Chan, his signature amused smile etched perfectly on his face. 

Tankhun took the coffee and gave it a try. 

Ah~ it’s perfect. But first thing first… 

As soon as the car door closed, Tankhun turned his head to face the Captain and yelled, "What the fuck, Chan!? You want what happened before to happen again!?"

"Aw~ I'm so touched you think about my safety, baby."

Tankhun ignored Chan's teasing and just gave him a finger. Chan burst out laughing. 

"How's the coffee? I got it right, right?" Chan asked Tankhun, as he gave him a very soft look. 

"It's perfect."

******

Tuesday Morning -- the Hattrick

(Chan POV)

Ah, right on time. 

Chan smiled broadly as he saw Kim's navy blue Mini approaching and finally stopped in front of him. Seeing Tankhun's worried expression, though not as bad as yesterday's, made Chan's smile get even wider. No matter what scathing things Tankhun had ever said to him, the Doctor clearly cared about Chan and that was an undeniable fact.

Without saying anything, Chan gave Tankhun his first coffee of the day, then opened the car door and sat in the back seat, right behind Tankhun. The doctor waited until the car door was completely closed before he quickly turned his body 180 degrees and hit Chan's shoulder with his fist.

"Ouch!"

"Are you going to do this every day? Are you crazy? You're playing with fire, Chan!" shouted Tankhun. "One of your fans will recognize you, and then what?"

"You and Kim will save me, of course," replied him cheekily. "Right, Kim?"

"One hundred percent, Cap!" answered Kim. "Ouch, P'!

"You! Stay out of this!" yelled Tankhun, this time to Kim, who just snickered as he rubbed his shoulder that got hit by Tankhun. 

“Baby, believe me, I've learned my lesson," explained Chan as he held out his hand to touch Tankhun's hand. "I got Macau's phone number from Vegas. After our coffee are ready, he'll text me and I'll get them. I was in and out of the cafe in less than a minute."

Tankhun was stunned and Chan patted himself on the back. He did well. 

“Drop you at the training ground, Cap?” asked Kim.

“Yes, please, Kim. Thank you.” 

******

Wednesday Morning -- the Hattrick

(Tankhun POV)

[Caramello]

This morning we trained at the BOC Stadium. Your coffee is ready as usual. Enjoy! 

Tankhun had just finished reading Chan's text, when he heard a soft knock on the car window. Macau, the barista, was standing there holding his hot americano.

"Cap and the boys are sparring at the BOC stadium. He asked me to give you this," told Macau as he gave him his coffee. "...and this."

"This" was a single pink rosebud.

"Thank you, Macau."

"You're welcome, Doctor T. Have a good day!"

"You too."

On their way to the University, Kim giggled beside him non-stop.

"What?" asked Tankhun. “Just say it.”

"P', he's so fucking corny." 

“I told you so~ That’s your favorite Captain!” jibed Tankhun.

“Uhm, you mean your Captain?” Kim mocked him back. 

“Shut up!” 

Kim laughed and Tankhun followed seconds later. 

******

Thursday Morning -- the Hattrick

(Chan POV)

“Good morning~” greeted Tankhun as soon as the window of the car rolled down. He was smiling and grabbed both coffee out of his hands. “Hop in, we’ll drop you at the training ground.” 

Oh wow, look at that! I'm actually got a greeting and a smile? Praise the lord! 

“Oh, you ordered Americano for yourself this morning?” asked Tankhun as he gave him his cup of coffee after he smelled it. “Not even a pinch of sugar? I’m so~ proud.” 

“Wait, you can smell sugar!?” asked Chan. 

“You mean that sickeningly sweet odor? Of course I can.” 

“Yet, you’re wearing something caramel scented,” stated Chan firmly, smirking. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” responded Tankhun, who shrugging his shoulders and turning his head to face forward. 

Aw, did he just blush?  

Chan smiled satisfyingly. 

You are definitely on the right track, Chan Knight.   

******

Friday Morning -- the Hattrick

(Tankhun POV) 

No Chan in front of the Hattrick today. No Macau and no text either. Not gonna lie, after four days in a row not queuing for his coffee, something was not quite right. 

Stop exaggerating things, Tankhun Theerapanyakun. You queuing for your coffee here, every fucking day, for five years. 

It was nice to be spoiled though, think Tankhun, as he walked toward the Research Center. He reckoned that he could get used to that. There will be no protest from him. Zilch. Nada. 

Tankhun spent all morning with his students at the lab and time flew. It was already lunch time. He took off his goggles and long white lab coat as he walked to his office. Sunny was already waiting in front of it.

"There's a delivery for you, Doctor T," she said. "In fact, there are two."

"Oh?"

"I've put them on your desk."

"Thank you, Sunny."

Tankhun didn't need to open the first paper bag to see its contents. He could smell it from here. A cup of hot Americano from the Hattrick.

Warmth seemed to envelop his heart, Tankhun couldn't believe how a small gesture could have such an effect. Subconsciously he put his hand on his chest.

God have mercy, but I got it bad.  

Tankhun then opened a second paper bag, and inside was the gluten-free bread sandwich from Chan's favorite Deli.

Aw~ *insert teary eyes GIF*

Tankhun took out his cellphone from his Ferragamo backpack and text Chan right away.

[Tankhun T]

Thank you for lunch and coffee.

[Caramello]

I wish I could have lunch with you today. See you at the training ground tomorrow morning?

[Tankhun T]

Yes. See you.

Oh God, make that REAL bad.

TBC

[hansolmates]

remote learning (m)

summary; working remote sucks, and you would love a little relief. after buying a new toy to blow off some steam, you’re baffled when you can’t cum. however, jungkook thinks you’re doing it wrong, and shows you a thing or two. pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, slightly insecure mc, this is pure FILTH—use of a remote controlled vibrator, do not and i repeat DO NOT try foreplay during a zoom call in the event u get fired im not responsible, phone sex, jungkook’s a meanie in control, cum eating, doggy, and topping it off with some sweet missionary bc jk has purty eyes, unprotected (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 5.7k a/n; this fic manifested bc of work. and i!! am!! frustrated!! i think we all need a lil jk relief so here it goes! as always ty to @chillingtae​ / @eerieedits​ for this FANTASTIC fic banner, please go check vivi out if u have taste okok part 2: distance learning drabbles; 01

if u like this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share💕💕💕💕

“Tomorrow morning, same time at 9AM. Remember to have your reports alphabetized and itemized,” your supervisor says, but the only thing you can focus on is the abnormal amount of bonsai plants in his living room. 

“Alright now it’s time for the union to talk COVID protocol,” you frown when Mr. Kim moves ownership of the Zoom call to your union rep, who pulls up a Powerpoint. You feel your eyes burn at the sight: an itinerary containing over thirty-eight slides. 

“For fuck’s sake—” 

You so desperately want to turn off the camera and flop in your bed. Since working remotely you haven’t been operating in the most ideal of workspaces. You live in a one-room apartment with a communal kitchen downstairs, so you really only have four square meters to stretch your limbs around between breaks. You’ve pushed your bed aside and shoved an office chair between the bed and the wall, leaving you to squirm between ten centimeters of space. You have no desk because well, the little rectangle space is prioritized for your portable stove and meals. 

The meeting drones on for another hour, until your brain melts to liquid and your limbs feel like Jell-O. Furthering your anxiety as they talk about protocol that never ends up happening, delays that continue to pile up, and the anger that’s been bubbling between the higher ups and little goldfish employees like you. 

When you finally shut off the camera and fling your laptop under the bed, you still feel unsettled. Probably because your work life and home life have merged together, and it’s hard for you to separate work and pleasure. 

Speaking of pleasure. 

Your hand blindly reaches under your bed, looking for the pretty pink oval you purchased last week. Cleaned and ready to use, the little remote-controlled vibrator sits plainly in your palm. 

Needless to stay you’ve been in a bit of a dry spot these past few months. With a fear to go out and meet someone new, you’ve been left with yourself and your fantasies. That’s fine, but lately your old vibrator isn’t cutting it. It’s unfortunate, you think you’re messing up your libido by buying toy after toy, but you’re horny and lonely. 

Linking your phone’s app to the remote, you ignore the messages that have been beeping your feed since early morning. 

[11:21] Jeon: let’s do lunch! 

[11:23] Jeon: hehe i feel like i belong in mean girls. Do lunch💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️

[2:20] Jeon: u loozer. Come eat dinner with us upstairs @6

[2:24] Jeon: dropping off a snack for u 

Another element of feeling horny and lonely? Jeon Jungkook. 

You two shouldn’t have even met each other. You live off crumbs on the first floor while he and his roommates are livin’ it up on top in the penthouse. One day a few months ago he crashed into you while working out, having run up and down the whole flight of stairs at least three times before deciding to collapse on you between the second and first floor. 

Despite the black mask that hugged his sharp jawline, you had felt nothing but attractiveness ooze off of him. Under his hoodie was nothing but curved muscle. He smelled so soft and sweet despite the fact that he was damp with sweat. 

The rest is history. After that day he seemed to show up everywhere, jogging more prominently on your floor and doing exercises at your level’s gym. He says he likes you, likes your company. He’s wormed his way intermittently, whether he’s seeing you struggle with an armful of groceries or when he hears you screaming over an Among Us match (according to Jungkook, the walls are thinner on the bottom floors.) 

The idea of Jungkook doting on you doubly frustrates you. He seemingly appears as the perfect man, unaffected by the stresses of the world. Jungkook’s job lets him work from home anyway, and he definitely had enough room in the penthouse for his own office. He works out, probably has a girlfriend and enough friends for you to gradually phase out of this weird neighbor interest. 

So you ignore his seemingly harmless messages, focusing on getting the settings right on the vibrator. You feel your pussy jolt a little in excitement, watching the silver and pearl pink oval shake in your grasp. You smile a bit to yourself, immediately finding your iPad for your favorite videos and some pillows to support your back. 

Half an hour later however, that excitement soon goes sour. 

“Fuck,” you bite your lip, frustrated tears streaming down your face, “fuck fuck fuck!” 

This isn’t a set of explicatives out of pleasure, unfortunately. 

No matter what you do, you won’t cum. You can’t cum. Barely wet, hardly a drop glossing your folds. You don’t even want to bother getting out the lube at this point because you are so disappointed. 

The vibrator is going at the highest setting, one that your neighbors can probably hear if they were home at this time of the day. You cease to care at this point, because the job is undone because you haven’t come undone. 

You don’t know why this is happening. Maybe it’s because you’ve had the liberty to touch yourself in complete silence, now that your neighbors have been confined to their homes indefinitely. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve relied only on your touch, that your body is tired of the monotony and needs more.

You bang the heels of your feet against your flimsy mattress, feeling whiny and utterly dissatisfied. Pulling the vibrator from your clit, you glare at the infuriating toy.

“You’re supposed to be helping me out of my dry spell,” you chastise, throwing the toy across the bed, sliding onto the carpet, “I get you’re not Jeon’s dick, but you gotta help a sister out.” 

With a sigh, you fall into a bout of exhaustion. Not from a round of orgasms, but from the week’s stress and no way to let it out. 

You wake up bleary and disoriented, practically melding through the mattress. The sky is pink and blue, washed in a sea of corals and purples. It comes from the incessant banging. 

“Stop it,” you whine more to yourself than whoever dares to disturb your sleep, pulling up your panties and a pair of navy dolphin-trim shorts. “Whoever you are I’m comin’ so stop!” 

Swinging the door open in two strides you’re met with a chipper Jeon Jungkook; looking all cute and sweet in his big hoodie and smelling like a rosebud. 

“It’s 6:30,” he narrows his eyes playfully at you, “dinner’s in the oven.” 

“You left your oven on,” you deadpan, turning around to grimace at the mess that’s your one-room apartment. 

“Yes, so we have exactly ten minutes before my kitchen explodes in flames,” Jungkook chirps, closing the door behind you. 

You don’t even bother to tell him to excuse the mess, ignore the pile of bras hanging on your vanity and the unpacked groceries that sit at the edge of your mini-fridge. It’s far too late to salvage your dignity and Jungkook’s too damn polite to call you out on your state of slob. Although, as you pull out a bottle of wine tucked in the back of your fridge you blurt, “I can hear your fingers tingling to clean up my mess.” 

When you turn around Jungkook stuffs his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, supposedly to stop himself from cleaning up. With a pout he says, “Can’t help it, Jimin says I’m currently manifesting a strong display of Virgo energy this month. Whatever that means.” 

Jabbing your feet in a pair of slides you follow Jungkook out the door. The hallways are quiet and barren, yet the silence isn’t suffocating as you two pile into the elevator. Jungkook opens the keypad underneath the regular boring buttons, revealing a sleek little set of light-up buttons that have the code to the penthouse. Faaaannnnccy. 

“Tryna look?” he jokes, cupping his hands to block your vision. 

You scoff, “I’m sure it’s something easy like 0000.” 

“You’re wrong. It’s 1234,” he replies cheekily. 

The door dings open and you’re met with yet another door. Jungkook presses his thumb to the biometric scanner, and a pleasant ringer tings in response. 

The penthouse smells like a mix of tonight’s dinner, savory, combined with a cinnamon apple candle. Jungkook is a fan of scented candles, ever since he got a whiff of your lavender vanilla burner. 

“Where’s Taehyung?” you ask, more out of your own anxiousness than anything. Taehyung’s  your buffer, the hyper roommate being someone to distract you from Jungkook’s incessant aura. 

“Dunno,” he shrugs, flicking on the oven light to peer inside. You see the telltale signs of a mean lasagna, the shredded cheese on top crisping to a delicious-looking golden brown, “anyway, you’re my friend first.” 

As grotesque as it sounds, Jungkook always finds his way to worm his way under your skin and find homage there. “Possessive much?” you quirk a brow, folding your arms over your chest even though there’s nothing to hide. 

“What can I say,” Jungkook’s legs stretch out as he squats down to your level, “I really fell for you.” 

“Gross,” you try to convince yourself, ignoring the thudding in your chest, “you technically fell on me, weirdo.” 

Dinner is a quick affair. He cuts slices of lasagna and brings it to the couch, where you’re pouring glasses of wine in crystal glasses. They’re so clean and shiny you can see your reflection in the gold liquid. You grimace at the bottle, normally this would be poured in a mug or your sippy cup, tonight your liquid’s getting a high-end pour. 

You two pull up an old anime to fill up the room, but most of it is spent in playful banter. Jungkook prattles on about his day, showing you all the cool updates he’s achieved during work. An app developer. A very on-brand, lucrative job for him. You love your job but it isn’t nearly as exciting as Jungkook’s, so you just let yourself be supportive and ask questions when needed. 

When the subject of you comes up, you shake your head and stuff your face with another cut of al dente pasta.

“Not interestin’ Jeon,” you mumble, groaning at how delicious his cooking is. What can’t he do? “Is this oregano? Is the secret ingredient toasted oregano—” 

“You’re deflecting.” 

Your shoulders slump, “I’m not very interesting, I tell you everything I do during the week and nothing has changed since March.” 

“Oh, not everything,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. You furrow your brows as his hands stuff themselves in his hoodie pocket. Is he upset you won’t tell him about your work stress? “And you’re very interesting, I’ll have you know.” 

“Yeah?” a small smile tugs on your lips. You sink further into his cottonball of a couch, feeling utterly soft and meldable at his words.

“Very,” Jungkook gets up from the couch, looking down at you, “want something sweet?” 

The prospect of dessert has you excited. Jungkook really is the perfect man, so kind and knows exactly when you’re craving something for your sweet tooth. You move to get up, only for you to sink further between the two large cushions of the loveseat. “Help me, ’m stuck,” you pout.

Jungkook giggles, and holds out his palm, “Hand,” he says simply.

You immediately reach for his larger palm, and you gasp when you feel something cold and soft touch your palm. As if you’ve been burned, you tug your hand back. But Jungkook’s hand is massive, the large ink-painted palm curling around your own, and it’s almost painful the way he clutches your hand so fiercely. 

When he’s sure you’re not going to drop it, he releases your hand. 

Nestled in your palm, is the new vibrator you left on the carpet this afternoon.

“Jeon,” you laugh tonelessly, hating the way Jungkook’s neutral expression mocks you, “you found my USB? Thanks, I know—” 

“Know that you’re having a hard time coming?” Carefully extracting your plate from your lap, he places it on the coffee table before Jungkook cages you between the couch. You shrink further into the plush seat, “I tried being a good neighbor, but you didn’t answer my texts. I heard you when I tried dropping off some snacks before dinner. Didn’t know you were into toys.” 

“Oh, c’mon Jeon. It’s 2020 and we’re confined,” well, in this scenario you’re confined, “everyone has a sex toy.” 

“Hm, I don’t have one,” Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, pretending to be deep in thought, “so, can you be my toy?” 

Fuck. 

It’s then that you feel the tell-tale signs of arousal. Your eyes widen, innocently surprised at the fact that Jeon Jungkook contained so much power in so few words. You snap your legs shut immediately, sealing any possibility of you dripping down your panties. 

“I heard how disappointed you were, doll,” his arms have no problems as he bends down so he’s eye-level with your crotch, “it was pathetic, really. You couldn’t even cum on your own? You need someone to help you?” 

“N-no,” you cross your arms defensively, frowning, “you–you’re being mean, Jeon.”

“And what, you’re gonna cry about it?” Jungkook smirks, now sitting on his knees. His hands run over the velvety fabric of the couch, making a beeline for your thighs. Gooseflesh rises to the surface, and he immediately presses down to iron out the little bumps that travel across your skin, “I do wanna make you cry, but not because you can’t cum. You’ll cry because of how good I’m gonna make you feel.” 

You gape, clutching the vibrator in your hand. 

A little bit of your sweet, cute Jungkook resurfaces, softening when he notices your lack of response, “If you’ll let me, of course.” 

You finally drag the words from your throat, “I-it’s been a long time since I’ve… been with someone.” 

He tilts his head, “Same here. I just figured we could break that spell together.” 

What are you going to say? No? A dishonor to your sexuality, that would be. Jungkook’s offering himself up on a silver platter, and even though you do wish it was a little more you’ll take the sex. 

You nod, forgetting to speak again. Jungkook chuckles. 

“I want to hear you say it, doll.” 

Doll. Like you’re his little fucktoy, malleable and bendable to all his whims. Fuck, why is that so hot to you? “Yes, I want to have sex with you,” you declare, your voice sounding more breathy than confident, “a-and, you can be mean. If you want.” 

His thumbs press little light indents in your skin, over and over as if fascinated by the way your skin is so soft and gummy in his grip. “Okay,” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to pull out his phone, jabbing a few things that you don’t see, “let’s do a little test drive, then.” 

In seconds, the little egg vibrates in your touch. He puts it on the lowest setting, a soft buzz echoing in the large living room, then at a bruising pace that forces you to curl your fingers around it otherwise it’d fall. Your eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s, who’s focusing entirely on the way the pink and silver egg moves, dilated in interest. 

“Fuck, and you thought this thing was broken?” he asks, taking it out of your palm and turning off the app. 

“Maybe I’m the broken one,” you admit softly, wringing your shirt. 

Silence seeps. Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed as if he’s annoyed. “Don’t ever say that,” when you don’t respond, he grabs your chin, and you gasp when he forces you to look at him, “you’re not broken, doll. Everyone’s body is different, and we’re going to discover yours together. Got it?” 

“Y-yes,” you reply immediately, mesmerized by his seriousness. 

“Good,” he slaps the vibrator back in your palm, “and in case you’re wondering, this goes inside.” 

“I know how it works,” you scowl, “but won’t you show me, just in case?” 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Jungkook gets up for good, piling the dishes in his arms and walking to the sink. You immediately miss his warmth, “but I think patience is a virtue. I have a developer meeting with some clients in America a little bit, actually. So just wait for my call, yeah?” 

You frown, looking down at the vibrator in your hands. How much longer would you have to wait? 

It happens at exactly three in the afternoon the next day, at the start of your staff meeting. You’re so tired of the same information being thrown back and forth, coupled with Brian and Jae having to fight over some mundane subject in the itinerary that no one cares about. For goodness sake, it’s Friday! What else would you possibly need to be meeting about? 

You’re wearing a button-down dress shirt on top, no pants on the bottom. Your bare feet slap against the hardwood floor, antsy. It’s been a long day at work and your back hurts, you’re half tempted to dip out of this meeting and hope no one notices. 

Your phone buzzes on your bed, and you blanch. 

[3:01] Jeon: thanks for waiting, doll. It’s time 

[3:01] Jeon: put it in

Shamelessly, your vibrator sits next to your phone, cleaned and ready to go. 

[3:02] Jeon: need help? Answer my call

Making sure that your Zoom call is muted, you quickly answer the incoming phone call. Jungkook and you say nothing at first, waiting. The phone just ticks with the amount of time passing, one minute, two minutes, and so on. 

Mr. Kim drones unknowingly, “So when we do return to live instruction, expect a strict process when returning. PPE must be enforced so our response team will—” 

“How wet were you last night when you went home?” Jungkook asks languidly, speaking over your boss’ voice. 

Your eyes widen, flickering back and forth between the phone and the camera displaying Mr. Kim’s boring speech. 

“Doll, are you hard of hearing?” 

“N-no,” your lips barely move, eyes glued to the camera and plastering an expressionless face, “I heard you.” 

“Then give me an answer,” he says patiently, “how wet were you?” 

“Very wet.”

“Little more detail.” 

“Soaking wet,” you flush, thankful that your work laptop can only stream in 360p. “I haven’t gotten that wet in such—such a long time. My pussy was practically clinging to my underwear when I washed up that night.” 

A heady, heavy groan resonates through your phone. You feel that voice straight into your panties, jolting the nerves awake. 

“Fuck, you have a way with words, don’t you?” Jungkook chuckles breathlessly, “c’mon, touch yourself for me. Swirl your fingers around your clit, slowly.” 

It takes a second for you to position yourself, spreading your legs in a way that your coworkers don’t question why you’re moving so much. A quick scan over all the tired faces says that you’re okay. Shyly, you press your fingers against your clit, doing as he says. 

“Oh,” you say more to yourself than him, feeling the wetness already coating your fingers. This is earlier than usual. 

“What?” 

“I’m already wet,” you say, amazed, “I haven’t gotten wet this quickly in a long time.” 

He scoffs, “If you’re so wet now, shove it in.” 

You frown. You did tell him to be mean. But the idea of him telling you what to do, giving you all the porn-worthy experiences to accomplish has you relenting. Discreetly grabbing the egg from the bed, you bring it down to your panties. Swirling the cold metal around your clit, you coat it in your juices. 

It’s still a little too early to be putting anything in, but you can take it. Slowly relaxing, you slip the little egg in your pussy, wiggling it a little to make sure it’s secure. It’s a strange sort of pressure, and it pokes against your clit from the inside, but you enjoy the stretch. 

“It’s in,” you reply softly. 

“Good.” 

You wait. You listen to Jae make yet another speech about the importance of masks and gloves, and then Brian has to interject and say that gloves are literally useless because they spread germs around no matter what. Even though everyone else is muted, you can practically feel the misery seeping through the screen. For a second you almost forget about Jungkook on the line. Why isn’t Mr. Kim stopping them? This is the thin line stopping you from the weekend, unbelievable! 

“Eep!” you jolt in your cheap seat, the egg buzzing in your pussy. Your hands fly out, gripping the edges of your computer. 

It hits different when Jungkook is in control. Knowing that with a flick of his thumb he can have you careening, whining for more or less depending on how hard he wants you go. Your folds hug the egg, nestling it a fleshy grip as it brushes against your clit the more you squirm. 

“You look so pretty, trying so hard to hold in your moans,” Jungkook says wondrously from the other line. 

“W-what?” you frown, “you can see me?” 

And immediately, you go to your trackpad to fish between the hundred-and-one employees also in this call. At the very end, you see a very simple name with no mic or camera: Jeon JK. He’s here. 

“Worked in IT, doll. Know a thing or two,” he says, “now, tell me. What are you thinking about right now?” 

“Y-you,” you mumble shyly. 

“So,” Mr. Kim finally ends that part of the meeting, thank goodness, “what’s everyone’s plans this weekend? I’m going apple picking with a couple of my friends from college. Hoseok is a bright bean who loves to take long walks—”

What the hell. You squirm uncomfortably in your seat, hyperaware that Jungkook’s watching your every move. You make glossy, stubborn eyes at the camera, trying not to move when he jacks up the vibrator to a higher setting. 

Jae’s of course the next employee to unmute his microphone, “Well, me and the bae are going house hunting…” 

“Fuck!” you cry, moving the computer to the left so you can pretend you’re picking up something. But in fact you're leaning your head against your mattress, frustrated. “I don’t fucking care about your weekend plans, Jae! Shut the fuck up! You wanna know my weekend plans?” Jungkook’s laughing at you from the other line, but it only spurs you on, “my plans are fucking my super hot neighbor! He’s a hundred times more interesting than you and he’s going to make me come a hundred times this weekend—oh fuck!” 

Your fingers latch onto your panties, drawing random squiggles and letters between the fabric. You’re damp, soaked to the core. You need some sort of friction, a reprieve from this hellish week.

“You flatter me, doll,” Jungkook is definitely grinning through the phone, you can practically hear his shit-eating grin, “I think you deserve a reward. As soon as you put the camera back on your pretty face.” 

Quickly, you sit up to put the camera on you again. Once again, the employees are in a daze, listening to whatever the next person gabs about their weekend. Even though you can’t really see it, you’re sure Jungkook has a 1080p camera upstairs that shows off your blotchy face. You moan a little bit, lips closed as the egg buzzes against your pussy lips. 

“You’re so cute, doll,” Jungkook praises, “you look so professional, holding it in. What could I do to make you unravel? Hm, what if you imagined the taste of my cock on your lips? Fuck, I’d love to slap your cute little face with my cock, baby doll–”

“y/n?” Mr. Kim calls your name, and you freeze, “what about you? Any plans this weekend?” 

Jungkook doesn’t sound angry that your boss has inadvertently cut him off. “Answer him, doll. Be a good little employee.” 

Like a zombie, you move towards the unmute button. “I–I uh,” you shake your head, trying to formulate a coherent response, “I’m going on a date this weekend.” 

Jungkook jacks up the vibrator to high, and your legs are shaking. 

“Awh, a date!” Mr. Park unmutes himself, practically shoving the camera in his face, “how much do you like the lucky lad or lady?” 

“I like him uh—ah—” you pretend to think, covering a hand over your mouth to hide the fact that you feel your orgasm fast approaching, “I like him a lot!” you finally blurt, “I’m, uh, really excited to see him.” 

“Best of luck to you,” Mr. Kim says brightly, “so Jimin, any news on those investors you had dinner with this weekend? I heard a lot of positive things…”

You immediately mute your mic, and pretend to lag as you fumble around with the camera. Shoving the laptop to the side once more you groan into your sheets, “Fuck—fuck yes—” you moan, shaking your head as you dip your fingers into your panties. The vibrator still continues at its bruising pace, spurring you to a high you haven’t peaked to in months.

“Good job,” Jungkook says simply, “could barely notice that you have a little helper fiddling around your dripping pussy.”

“J-Jeon,” you cry, “I’m, ’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah?” Jungkook eggs you on, “you’re gonna cum around that cute little vibrator? Gonna soak it in your juices?” 

“W-wish it was your cock I was soaking,” you whisper truthfully, letting your orgasm take you at the thought. Your folds flutter around the vibrator, bringing you to a level of sensitivity you’ve only dreamt of, “Ah, yes, Jeon. It feels s-so good!” 

“Yes baby,” Jungkook groans through the line, “feels good, huh?” 

Mr. Kim interrupts for the last time, “And with that, I think our meeting is adjourned. Have a wonderful weekend! Stay safe and—” 

You slam the laptop shut, grabbing your phone and keys. “I’m going up,” you mutter impatiently, already jabbing your feet in a pair of slippers and locking the door to your apartment behind you. 

“I’m waiting,” he replies, eagerness trimming his voice. 

“Password?” you ask quickly, jabbing the elevator door shut once you step inside. Thank goodness you’re alone, you think as you pull your dress shirt further down your ass. 

“Did you forget already?” he teases, “I told you, it’s 1234.” 

Thankfully, the doors zip you up straight to the penthouse. The connection is always a little spotty in elevators, and you sigh longingly when you feel the buzz jolt and leave it’s momentum, quickly losing its rhythm between your dripping folds. Once you get to the top and the elevator doors open the second door immediately swings open, revealing a soft but aroused-looking Jungkook. He looks fresh from the shower, absolutely radiant and delicious looking. 

You don’t hesitate to run up to him, and Jungkook immediately cups his face in your hands, pressing his lips to yours. 

You’re practically on your tippy-toes, and you squeak against his lips when he hooks his arms around your shoulders, immediately lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, not wanting to stop kissing him. He’s like the sweetest ambrosia, a taste you can’t get enough of. 

The connection to your vibrator has resumed, and you can’t help but grind helplessly under Jungkook’s clothed abs as he carries the both of you to his bedroom.

“N-need you to fuck me,” you bury your head in the crook of his neck, pressing quick kisses to his jawline, “I want you s-so badly.” 

“Hello to you too,” he husks, shutting the bedroom door with his foot. 

Jungkook drops you unceremoniously, and your limbs splay out on the fresh bedsheets of his feather-soft mattress.

“You look gorgeous like this, doll.” he sighs longingly, a hand going under your buttondown to press against your soaked panties. His hand lingers on the way your pussy moves in tandem with the vibrator. 

“J-Jeon please I can’t take it—” 

“Stop calling me that,” he snaps, hands leaving your skin.

You whine at the loss of contact, “Jeon, no. Jungkook. Kook, my Kook. Please, I need you.” 

That gets him going. His pretty chocolate brown eyes zero in on you, and he immediately shucks off his shirt and sweatpants, “How much do you need me?” he asks, pulling out his phone and pressing some buttons, “how much do you need your Kook?” 

The vibrator stops. You cry out in frustration, unsure if it’s because it’s off or because Jungkook’s taking too damn long. “I need you so much, Kook,” you warble with a pout, moving to undo the top buttons of your dress shirt to reveal your cleavage, “honey, you can have me all you want later today. I want you to slap my face with your dick, edge me until I cry, anything. I’m all yours, I’m your little doll. But please for now, I need to feel you inside me.” 

“Say no more,” his lips latch onto your neck, and you sigh at the skin-to-skin contact. His hand fiddles under your shirt, clutching a breast and slapping it so hard it bounces back and forth, “fuck, you’re so pretty.” 

His hand moves to your plain cotton panties, immediately shucking them off, “doll, you really are dripping,” he’s impressed, surprised when he has to untack the fabric from your glossy legs. He hangs the panties on his wooden headboard, a little ornament for him to jack off to later. 

His fingers brush over your folds, wasting no time to slip the vibrator out. He holds it between your faces, forcing you to stare at the pearly substance that coats the entirety of the egg. “Mm, tasty tasty,” he cooes, pink tongue darting out to lick a long strip across the oval. 

You tug him closer, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes a mixture of his own saliva and your arousal, and you grind helplessly against him. You feel how big his cock is, rock-hard and trying very diligently not to bust. He must have a crazy amount of control, and it drives you nuts. 

“Kook,” you frown, bumping your crotch with his.

“Impatient, good thing I am too,” he shucks off his boxers while you unbutton the rest of your shirt, “knees and hands, doll.” 

You don’t care how or what way he’ll take you. Fuck, he could bend you into an Auntie Anne’s pretzel and you’d comply. 

Arching your back so your ass is in the air, you wiggle around, hoping he’ll take the bait. That’s when you sigh, feeling the tip of his dick brush against your wetness.

“Soaking my cock already, baby,” he says, “you’re so good to me.” 

And finally, finally, he slips in. You don’t even care that it stretches you a little too far and too long, it’s been too damn long since you’ve had decent dick and Jungkooks far more than decent. 

He goes at a quick pace, finally showing how impatient he’s been all this time. Your moans and groans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls to the brim. You hold a pillow to your chest, feeling woozy at the way his fat cock stretches you out. 

“F-fuck yeah,” the pace is hard, you practically feel it in your belly, and you love it. “You feel so fucking tight, baby,” he’s all up in your ear, kissing the lobe briefly, “I love the way you suck my cock back in.” 

“Kook,” you press your ass back, “harder, please. I’m your little doll, right? Y-you can fuck me however you want, as hard as you want! Please, ah—! Use me!” 

You cry out when he slips from your folds, immediately flipping you on your back. He wastes no time to wet his dick, lifting one leg over his shoulder to have you deeper. This position is far more intimate, and your noses are practically touching as he thrusts into you. 

You can’t believe you’re in bed with Jeon Jungkook. This must be a dream, a really great, really long wet dream. You crumble in his grip, and you lift a shaky hand to run through his thick black strands. 

“Why’d you make me wait so long?” you cry, staring right into his glittering eyes, “why couldn’t you come for me after your call last night?” 

“Why’d I make you wait?” he grits, crushing the flesh between your hip bones so he can have more leverage to pound into you, “why did you make me wait? Since March, I’ve wanted you. I told you I liked you, told you I fell for you.” 

“T-thought it was a joke,” you warble pathetically, breasts bouncing at his relentless rhythm.

“You think th-this is a joke?” for further emphasis, he glides slower, making you feel just how large and thick he is against your folds, “I want you, doll. Y-yeah, fu-fuck. Want to feed you every day, feed you lasagna, feed you with my cum, make you happy.” 

“I—I want that too, Kook,” you’re a pile of pink mush, and you feel your eyes prick from the overwhelming emotions that have washed over both of you. “Sh-shit, Kook. I think, I think I’m gon’ cum again.” 

“Good, you first,” his hand plays figure 8s with your precious pearl, seeping with arousal and coating his cock in delicious lubrication. 

It doesn’t take long for you to cum. You’re holding him as tight as you can, nails digging into his shoulders as you clench around his cock. Jungkook cums shortly after, and you keen at the sensitivity when his hot cum coats your walls. “Baby doll,” he exhales, thrusting lazily. The both of you feel your combined arousal drip between the two of you, onto your skin and onto his sheets, “y-you’re amazing.” 

His softened cock slips out of you, and his hands immediately reach over to swirl around the heady cream over your engorged pussy. You moan when he brings his fingers to your lips, “Open, doll.” 

It tastes salty yet sweet, and you suckle around his finger with a cute little pop. Jungkook grins brightly, feeling like he won the lottery. 

“Are my walls that thin?” you pout, pressing closer to him when he pulls the blankets to your chest. 

“Very,” Jungkook nods with a chuckle, tucking the two of you in, “now get some rest, doll. You presented a lot of offers to me earlier, and I intend to go through with them.” 

You smile into his chest, melty and feeling utterly sated. 

[tricksters-captain]

Bucky Barnes imagines - Some Sunny Day Part 2

AN: I’m splitting episode 3 into two chapters because so much happens. 

Summary: Before the Blip, you and Bucky were close. After you both returning and Tony’s funeral, you decided to go back to your home town to spend time with your family. When duty calls, you return.  

In this chapter: Despite your protests, Bucky seeks out Zemo (Based on S1 EP3)

(PART 1 HERE)

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 5,196

Warnings: Spoilers for episode 3, violence, strong language. 

You watched Bucky as he sat beside you on the aircraft. 

“Do you mind?” Bucky’s side eye didn’t make you look away. 

“I’m just trying to see what’s going through that head of yours.” You confessed. You were all on your way to Germany to visit Zemo. It wasn’t a plan you were happy with but it was the plan. 

“Don’t bother.” Bucky frowned, looking down at his hands on his lap. “And don’t ask me if I think this is a good idea again.” 

“I wasn’t going to ask that.” You turned away from the man.

“What was it then?” Bucky asked. 

“I was going to ask if you were sure you wanted to do this.” It was another question you had already asked 20 times or more but you couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of anxiety about this trip. 

“She has a right to be worried, Buck. The last time you were alone with Zemo, you ended up putting (Y/n) through three windows.” Sam reminded you both of what happened the last time you were in Berlin. 

“It won’t happen this time.” Bucky tried to reassure you both but you still felt uneasy. 

After another hour or so Sam announced that you were almost there. 

It was a short drive to the prison from the airport but once you were inside, you felt your chest begin to tighten again. 

“He’s just through that corridor.” The German guard gestured up ahead and that’s when Bucky stopped you. 

“Alright. Give us a sec.” Bucky instructed the security guard before turning to you and Sam. “I’m gonna go in alone.”

“Why?” Sam asked, 

“You’re Avengers. You know how he feels about that.” Bucky said as he looked between the two of you. 

“It’s not like you two were known for frolickin’ in the sun together.” Sam felt he needed to remind Bucky of the past again. However, Bucky stood his ground. 

“He was obsessed with HYDRA. We have a history together. Trust me. I got it.” 

“Buck...” You started, 

“I got it.” He repeated himself before you could say anything else. 

You watched Bucky head through the doors alone. 

“Let’s wait outside. This place gives me the creeps.” Sam encouraged you to follow him to which you didn’t do without hesitation. 

Sam brought you a hot drink as you sat on a bench outside. 

“I forgot how worried he can make you.” Sam admitted as he sat down beside you.

“I’ve seen what he went through, Sam. All of it leading up to Zemo. I just... I don’t want it happening to him again.” You knew you couldn’t explain the extent of why you cared for Bucky. 

“You love him.” Sam said. It wasn’t a question but rather a statement. “I can see it clear as day. Anyone could if they stuck around long enough.” 

“Why are you bringing this up, Sam?” You sighed, looking away from him. 

“Because it’s also obvious that he loves you too. You run around driving each other crazy with worry but you have none of the good stuff that comes with being in love with someone.” 

“What do you know about love, Don Juan?” You chuckled as you tried to lighten the tone.

“I know it when I see it.” Sam smiled but there was a sadness behind his eyes. 

“Things are complicated, Sam.” You muttered, “You already know that.” 

“Well I also think that if Bucky got some he’d be a whole lot less angsty all the damn time.” You knew Sam only said it to make you laugh but you still gave him a whack for the comment. 

“Shut up, Sam.” You shook your head, trying not to smile at the inappropriate comment. 

Sam kept you entertained by a couple of silly games of rock, paper, scissors before Bucky returned. 

“Come on, I got some information. We gotta go.” Bucky hurried you and Sam along. 

“Just like that?” You were surprised that Zemo even spoke to Bucky at all. 

“A location. I’ll explain everything once we get there.” Bucky wasn’t giving you much information and it was making you a little suspicious. 

“Hey, hey, hey...” Sam ran after Bucky, stopping him. “You gotta give us a little more than that.”

“Zemo agreed to help us after hearing that there were more super soldiers. It was his life ambition to stop the winter soldier programme and he’s given us a lead.” Bucky explained. 

“And you’re just gonna trust his word?” You probed. 

“There’s not much else we can do.” Bucky did make a point. 

It didn’t take long to reach the large warehouse/garage that Bucky wanted to go to. 

Bucky on the way had started rambling about breaking Zemo out of jail in order to help you guys which sounded ridiculous to you. 

“Tell me you’re joking, Buck.” You pleaded, unsure whether he had lost his mind entirely. 

“He’s our best shot at finding who is making the serum and he’d be a lot more useful out than in.” Bucky opened the door to the building and you followed him inside.

“What are you talking about? You wanna break Zemo outta jail? Where are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?” Sam was just as lost as you were as he shot questions at Bucky. 

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing.” Bucky sighed as you made your way in with your flashlights. 

“What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars.” Sam argued. 

“We also have eight Super Soldiers that are loose.” Bucky retorted. 

“Anyway, I thought this was a lead?” You tried to look around but the place was badly lit. There were mainly mechanic tools and lots of storage scattered around. 

“It’s complicated.” Bucky frowned.

“What’s complicated is Zemo. He’s gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours. No offence.” Sam shone his flashlight at Bucky as he spoke. 

“Offence.” Bucky didn’t look impressed as he found the light switch. “Super Soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code.” 

“I’ve been on the wrong side of that code and so have you. He blew up the UN, he killed King T’Chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that? You think the Wakandans forgot about it? It’s a rhetorical question. They didn’t. I know why this matters to you, but it’s pushing you off the deep end.” Sam stepped closer to Bucky. You couldn’t deny that Sam had a point. Zemo was the one who tore the avengers apart by framing Bucky.  “We don’t know how they’re gettin’ the serum. We don’t even know how many of them there are.” Bucky couldn’t give up. “Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I?”

“What did you do?” Sam narrowed his eyes at Bucky. 

You were busy looking inside the car that was revealed by the lights coming on. 

“I didn’t do anything.” Bucky shook his head before he continued with his ‘hypothetical’. 

“The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element. Now, in this lockup, it’s nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond.”

“So why would two prisoners randomly start fighting at that moment? Who knows?” Sam questioned. 

“There could be many reasons…” Bucky shrugged. “But the point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated, and with all those bodies flying around left and right, wouldn’t be hard to slip down a hallway or two.

At this point, you stopped looking around and looked over at Bucky with your arms across your chest. You weren’t liking how thought out this plan was sounding. 

“And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated someone could use the chaos to their advantage.” Bucky continued. 

“I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this. This is unnatural. Are you… And where are we, man?” Sam gestured around the place with confusion locked on his face. 

“Bucky, I’m with Sam on this one. I’ve got a bad feeling and–––” A door opening behind you cut you short. 

You turned around to see Zemo walk through the plastic door curtains. 

“Woah, woah, woah!” Sam jumped forward instructively. Bucky managed to stop him but he didn't stop you. 

You rushed towards Zemo and held the tip of one of your knives to his Adams apple as he held his hands up. 

“What are you doing here?” Sam shouted at Zemo before snapping back to Bucky.

“I didn’t tell ’cause I knew you wouldn’t let this happen.” Bucky admitted. 

“What did you do?” Sam pointed at Zemo in shock.

“We need him.” Bucky stated to which you chuckled harshly, pressing your knife a little harder. 

“You’re going back to prison!” Sam called over. 

“If I may..? “ Zemo tried to speak but you all shut him up with a unanimous ‘No.’

“Apologies.” Zemo mumbled. 

“(Y/n), put the knife down.” Bucky came towards you and wrapped his hand round your wrist. “Please?” 

You did. Slowly. 

“Look, when Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you both backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me. I’m asking you to do it again.” Bucky looked back and forth from you to Sam. 

“I really think I’m invaluable.” Zemo spoke again. 

“Shut up.” You rose the knife again to which Zemo took a step back and pretended to zip his mouth shut. 

“Okay.” Sam sighed after a moment of contemplation. “If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.”

“Fair.” Zemo nodded. 

“Bucky... You understand what this means right? If they find out we took Zemo, specifically you. We’ll be on the run again and I don’t know if there will be a pardon this time either.” The concern in your eyes made Bucky frown. 

“It’ll be alright. He's the only shot we got to stop these guys.” Bucky wasn’t sure if he believed his own words but he was praying that this was the best thing to do. 

“Alright.” You turned to Zemo. “So where do we start?”

Zemo gestured for you to follow him before taking you into another dark room. You kept your knife in your hand just in case.

He reached for the light switch to reveal a mass of classic cars. 

“So our first move is grand theft auto?” Sam cocked his eyebrow at the impressive collection.  

“These are mine. Collected by family over the generations. I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Because once it’s out there, someone can create an army of people… like the Avengers.”  Zemo entered one of the cars and pulled out a bag. “I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished. To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”

“Well, join the party. We’ve already started.” Sam told the man.

“First stop is a woman named Selby. Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb.” Zemo took his bag and headed into another room. 

“Jesus... How big is this place?” You looked around to see it was full of clothes. 

“First I change and then we head to Selby.” Zemo placed the bag down before filing through one if the rails of clothes. 

“How are we supposed to get anywhere with Zemo on our hands? We can’t exactly call Torres and ask for a ride but please ignore the fugitive that’s coming with us.” You looked between the boys. 

“I will get us there.” Zemo told you. 

“Great.” You pressed a fake smile onto your face which Zemo chose not to acknowledge.

Before you knew it you were at the airport at Zemo’s private jet.

“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam’s eyes went wide at the sight of the plane.

“I’m a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.” Zemo spoke as if it was well known information. You felt a pang hit you in the chest, it happened every time you thought of Sokovia... it was guilt. 

You watched Zemo greet an elderly man in a suit before you entered the jet. 

You sat furtherest away from Zemo, still feeling very uncomfortable about him being free and under your custody. 

You watched him sip on a glass of champagne like he had no worries in the world. 

“You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell. Oh. That’s right you do.” Zemo reminded you of the time Tony had locked a lot of the avengers up. 

“Why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?” Sam suggested. 

 “I’m sorry. I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?” 

Before you could blink, Bucky had lunged forward and taken Zemo by the neck.  

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you.” Bucky kept hold of Zemo for a second longer before sitting back down. You had fought the urge to get up and take hold of his arm to calm him down.  

"I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.” Zemo made no attempt at a sincere apology for the invasion of privacy.  

“Don’t push it.”  Bucky warned him.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?” Sam smiled as he thought back on the memory. 

“I like ’40s music, so…” Bucky shrugged. 

“You didn’t like it?” Sam seemed more shock to hear this than when he saw Zemo. 

“I liked it.” Bucky proclaimed. 

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience.” Even Zemo had to get involved. 

“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.” Sam turned back to Bucky after giving side eye to Zemo. 

“I like Marvin Gaye.” Bucky repeated. 

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.” Sam couldn’t drop it but you didn’t bother getting involved. 

You looked at the book in Bucky’s hands. You knew Steve had given it to him before but seeing it again after all this time brought up a hundred thoughts. You remembered the many things you had told Steve to watch or eat or listen to like ABBA, Mochi ice cream and pranking him by suggesting the twilight movie as must see. 

“You must have really looked up to Steve.” Zemo mentioning Steve made you look up again. “But I realised something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.”

“Watch your step, Zemo.” Sam warned him. 

“They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right?” Zemo looked over at Bucky. “As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? That is why we’re going to Madripoor.” 

“What’s up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it’s Skull Island.” Sam asked but you already knew of Madripoor. Anyone with links to the underworld of crime knew of Madripoor. 

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” Bucky informed him. 

“It’s kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.” Zemo looked down at his duffel bag of clothes that you had watched him pack before.

“What do you mean by that?” You finally chimed into the conversation. 

“James will have to retake the person of the Winter Soldier. You both will have a role to play also.” Zemo explained, turning to face you as you sat in the chair by the back wall of the jet. 

“Bucky, can I speak to you privately?” You looked past Zemo to Bucky. Bucky gave you a look to ask where would you go so you stood and opened the cabin toilets door. 

Bucky huffed before following you in.

“Bucky I’m not okay with this.” You whispered as you pressed yourself up against the wall so you could try and fit both you and Bucky a little more comfortably. 

“This isn’t up to you.” Bucky sighed. 

 “Everything about this situation is making every nerve in my body scream this is a bad idea.” You folded your arms across your chest as you stared up at Bucky. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that this is the only plan we got?” 

“I don’t trust him.” You kept your voice low as you threw your hand up in the direction of the door. 

“Do you trust me?” Bucky asked. 

“I’m starting to question it.” You muttered. 

Bucky just stared at you in response. 

“Yes, I trust you.” You grumbled, caving in. 

“Anyway I have you if things go bad.” Bucky tried to make light of the situation but you weren't impressed. 

You left the bathroom and remained silent until you drew closer to Madripoor. 

Upon your arrival in Madripoor, you were handed some clothes to change into. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” You held up the small material dress that you were meant to wear. 

“I had to choose a disguise that would cover your face. Too many people here would know you from your days before the avengers and after.” Zemo defended his choice of ‘costume’ for you. 

“So I’m assassin barbie?” You scoffed before taking to the bathroom to change. 

You slid on the black leather playsuit and boots, along with the mask that Zemo gave you. 

You felt exposed and uncomfortable. You managed to hide a few knives in your boots and you slid on a thigh holster to hold some more to make you feel like you were protected at least. 

“Loose the knives.” Zemo instructed. 

“Are you serious?” You were growing more agitated by the minute with this man. 

“You are playing an escort. You can’t have knives on show.” Zemo pointed to your holster. 

You bit down on your cheek as you removed it. 

“Fine.” You then left the plane to Sam and Bucky waiting outside. Bucky’s eyes went wide at the sight of you but he tried to hide it by clearing his throat and looking away. 

“We have to fix this. I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.” Sam was wearing a red patterned suit and chains. He didn’t look too bad in it either.

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.” Zemo handed Sam his phone revealing a picture of Conrad Mack.

“He even has a bad nickname. Hell, he does look like me, though.” Sam took the phone and looked down at the picture. 

“(Y/n) is playing your partner for the night. Conrad is known for his appreciation for the finer things in life and often has a woman on his arm Therefore, (Y/n), you must be attached to Sam’s hip the entire night.” Zemo filled you all in on the reason behind your disguise. 

“Excuse me, what?” Bucky almost choked at the idea of you having to be Sam’s woman for the night. 

“Well it is the only disguise that makes sense. She can’t be your girlfriend as you are the Winter Soldier. She can’t be mine as everyone knows I am loyal to my wife. She has to be the smiling tigers current whore.” 

“Watch your mouth.” Bucky hissed. 

“We all must play a part.” Zemo defended his choice of words. “You smell this?”

“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam asked. 

“Madripoor. No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error. High Town’s that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit, but Low Town’s the other way.” Zemo gestured across the city as a car approached you all. 

“Let me guess. We don’t have any friends in High Town.” You sighed as Zemo opened the car door for you. 

“Not if we want the answers we are looking for.” Zemo climbed into the car after you and then the boys followed. 

It didn't take too long to find the way to low town. You had been to Madripoor before but it had been years ago. 

You did as you were ordered when you all exited Zemo’s car. You stuck by Sam, walking in the middle of Sam and Bucky. 

The air wasn’t cold but it felt thick, you could feel it sticking to your bare skin which gave you the desperate urge to take a long shower. 

“Here we are.” Zemo had brought you to a bar. It was busy and filled with a lot of men.  

“Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” You heard Zemo ask Bucky in Russian. 

You heard whispers around you questioning if Bucky was who everyone thought he was. It made your gut clench with nerves but you didn’t let it show. 

“Hello, gentlemen. Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” The bartender greeted Sam and Zemo but barely brushed a glance over you.

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby.” Zemo spoke for Sam. You then felt Sam wrap his arm around your waist. You leaned into him, batting your eyelashes first at Sam and then the bartender. 

“The usual?” The bartender asked Sam. He nodded, afraid that if he spoke then it would give away the facade. 

You were thankful you were wearing a face mask when you saw the drink made for the Smiling Tiger. You grimaced at the dead snake being cut open and then again when one of its organs was dropped into Sam’s shot. 

“Ah, Smiling Tiger. Your favourite.” Zemo picked up his own drink as he looked down at Sam’s. 

“I love these.” Sam forced himself to speak. 

“Cheers, Conrad.” Zemo and Sam touched glasses before Sam hesitantly shot back the drink. You could tell Bucky enjoyed watching that. 

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.” A man suddenly approached from behind and tapped Zemo on the shoulder. You felt Sam’s grip on you tighten protectively. 

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me...” Zemo held his hand out to show his new bodyguard. 

“New haircut?” The stranger looked Bucky up and down. 

“Or bring Selby for a chat.” Zemo gave him the other option. The man retreated. 

“A power broker? Really?” Bucky spoke once the stranger had left.

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?” Sam asked. 

“Only by reputation.” Zemo admitted honestly.

“In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner. You can’t visit low town without appearing on his radar.” You spoke up as you let yourself look around the room and take in just how many threats were around. 

“And you know this why?” Sam looked down at you. He must've forgotten your past. 

“I was a free agent before the Avengers. I've been here undercover a few times especially when I was a young teenager. Surprise Surprise evil guys like little girls.” You kept quiet in case anyone around was listening. 

Zemo suddenly spoke a command for Bucky in Russian once again and that’s when another stranger put his hands on Zemo. 

You watched Bucky follow orders and he didn’t hold back. 

He grabbed hold of the strangers wrist and pulled him off Zemo before attacking him and several others around. 

You took notice of those around with their phones out. Cameras...

You went to step forward when you felt Sam squeeze your side. He gave you a look that told you no. 

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” Zemo muttered to you and Sam. You wanted to punch him. 

Bucky slammed another man onto the bar and that’s when you heard the wave of guns cocking. 

Sam took hold of Bucky’s arm when Zemo told him to stay in character. 

Instead Zemo told Bucky to stand down once you were informed you could see Selby. 

Sam took hold of you hand and dragged you along side him as you all left the bar. 

“She isn’t welcome.” One of the guards stopped you before you could enter the room. 

“Excuse me?” Sam scoffed at the guard. “She’s with me and so she is welcome.” 

“Let her in!” You heard an English accent call from ahead. 

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Selby was an older woman with a white pixie cut and a sly grin. Sam remained stood and so did Bucky but Sam had commanded you to take a seat next to Zemo. 

“Not a demand. An offer.” Zemo was impressing you by how cool he was playing this. It also worried you. 

“A lot has changed since you were here last. By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?“ Selby asked. 

“People like us always find a way, don’t we? I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.” Selby ignored Zemo as she eyed up Sam.” What’s the offer?”

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum. And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.”Zemo had risen from his seat and held Bucky by the chin. 

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank...Or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but… things didn’t go as planned.” Selby fed you what she knew. 

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo questioned. 

“Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” Selby pushed herself from her seat and walked across the room. 

That’s when Sam’s mobile went off. 

“Answer it. On speaker.” Selby ordered. The gun behind Sam made him pull out his phone. 

“Hello?” He answered. 

“Hey, um, we need to talk about this situation. It’s been drivin’ me nuts.” A woman’s voice came through. 

“What situation exactly are you talkin’ about?” Sam tried his best to keep up his persona. 

“Are you high? You know what situation, it’s the only situation me and you have.” The woman’s attitude was not helping Sam’s case. 

“What situation, Sarah? Say it.” Sam demanded. 

“The damn boat. And watch your tone. Okay? I let you slide at the bank.” Sarah snapped back. 

“The bank. Yeah. Laundered so much...” Sam chuckled. “Yeah, they’ll come around.”

“If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out, Big Time?” Sarah asked. 

“Yeah, you damn right I’m Big Time. You’ll see when I have that banker killed.” Sam tried to seem intimidating but at that moment you knew you were screwed. You reached down into your boot to take a knife just in case. 

“Cass! What’d I tell you about the Cheerios? I don’t have time for this! Sam, I’m sorry. I’ll call you back.” Sarah had used Sam’s name and that was the end of it. 

“Sam? Who’s Sam?” Selby looked pissed. “Kill them!” She ordered but before her hired men could react, a bullet came through the window and shot Selby down. 

You snatched two knives from your boot and sent them into the guard behind Sam. 

Bucky immediately reacted with taking out the other guard. 

“They’re gonna pin this on us.” You took the knives from the body as the boys took the guns. 

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.” Zemo’s order made the boys put their guns down but you just wiped your knives and placed them back in your boot. 

You left the club in a hurry. Text chimes went off around you and you knew the power broker had seen what happened. 

You were well and truly fucked. 

“This is not good.” Zemo’s last words before the shooting started. 

You took off alongside Bucky and Sam, cursing the fact that Zemo had put you in the most uncomfortable shoes on the planet. 

“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam shouted which almost made you laugh. 

“Down here!” You took a turn into an alley to get off the road as two mopeds appeared behind you. 

Before you could spin around to fight, a shooter had taken them out. 

“You seem to have a guardian angel.” Zemo looked just. as confused you felt. You weren’t aware you knew anyone who was in Madripoor at the moment. 

“Well, this is too perfect. Drop it, Zemo.” A familiar face soon revealed itself from the shadows. 

“Sharon?” Sam furrowed his brow at the woman. 

“You cost me everything.” Sharon ignore Sam as she spoke to Zemo. 

“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam stepped ahead of Zemo to protest him. 

“That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.”Sharon glowered at the four of you. 

“So what are you doing here?” Bucky asked the question on everyones mind. 

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass, so that you could save him from him. I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up. So I’m off the grid in Madripoor.” Sharon informed you.

“Don’t blow smoke. Both (Y/n) and I were on the run, too.” Sam didn't bother with feeling pity. 

“Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore. I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.” Sharon shot back. 

“Listen, Sharon, we need your help.” Bucky interrupted her before she could say anything else.  

“Please.” You added. You and Sharon were friendly for a time before the world went to hell. You figured she’d help you at least. 

“This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town. You’ll be safe there for a while.” Sharon sighed, giving in and lowering her gun. 

“Thank you.” You pressed a small smile onto your face but Sharon didn’t reciprocate. 

She managed to get you to a car safely and you headed out of low town for the night. 

(PART 3 HERE)

Bucky Barnes Tag List 

@florencxs @mystictimetravelcolor @yourphotographyteen16 @shannon-posts @darkbluenovember @sexwithhiddlesbatch @thefandomimagines @mydarkness-itsnotmyfriend @sad-huffle-nerd @glitchingghosts​ @themaddies-obx​

[bjornswoman]

Zinnia

Requested by none.

Author's note: Hey guys! I hadn't post for a while because I wasn't creative. These past days I lack from creativity a lot, so I hope you will like this. Thank you for your support. Till the next time, have fun and take care.

Pairing: Modern!Bjorn x Reader.

Genre: Modern!au, romance, drama, angst, smut.

Summary: You and Bjorn are friends but that's not the only thing he is for you.

Warnings: Smut, jealousy, strong language.

"So, tell me. How does it feel like to be the son of two of the most powerful people in the world?" The blonde chic asked Bjorn and he chuckled. The brunette on the the other side of him were looking at him the same way as her stupid friend. You, on the other hand, rolled your eyes at her stupidity. You took your glass and sipped the liquid it contained.

Why did women have to be so stupid sometimes? Some of you embarrassed the reast who were normal and not on your knees for a man.

They thought that being the son of Ragnar and Lagertha was easy because he had a really comfortable and easy life but it wasn't just like that. His life wasn't just money, fancy parties, expensive stuff from brand names. Bjorn was holding heavy weight on his shoulders. Being the son of these people meant that the others werw expecting from him to be equal or even greater than them. He had to prove that he wasn't just having a name but was creating his own reputation apart from the one that followed their parents' names.

Lagertha and Ragnar started from a little farm in nowhere and after all these years they ended up conquering the world. They made money and reputation all by themselves. Bjorn couldn't be just their son. He had to build his own name and a great legacy after it.

You could understand how it felt to be their child. Your father had his own reputation. He wasn't Ragnar Lothbrok, but he was Floki the Boatbuilder. He, Ragnar, Lagertha and some friends of them started all these by themselves. You had to prove that you were yourself, not just Floki's daughter as Bjorn wasn't just Ragnar's son.

The name he carried was heavy and great, he had to be worthy to prove that he wasn't just that name. He was Bjorn Ironside Lothbrok not Bjorn Lothbrok son of Ragnar Lothbrok. They gave him the name Ironside for some reason.

"It feels like—" Bjorn paused for a moment thinking about the suitable word to express how it was to be himself.

You placed your empty glass on the counter and motioned to the barman to pour you another one. After that you turned to the three of them.

"It feels like heavy weight on his shoulders I'd say." You spoke and sipped from your new drink.

The women who were next to him didn't evwn pay attention to what you had said, but little did you cared. You didn't care at all about them to bw honest. They were just the women of his night. In fact, not even the women of the night. The night had just started and you were aware that he would find a lot of women to please. That was what Bjorn wanted from women. He wanted to lay with them once and nothing more. Maybe they didn't approach him for only this. They craved fame and recognition, invitations to fancy parties, money and stuff, but Bjorn didn't want nothing serious.

Bjorn seemed amused by your answer. He downed his own drink and ordered another.

"That's an interesting and really intriguing answer. Care to speak about it more, zin?" Bjorn spoke to you smirking.

You rolled your eyes again at the nickname and his smirk grew wider.

This nickname was found by him when you were kids. You were best friends with Bjorn and Gyda, his late sister. As children, you used to play at your mother's garden. Her favorite flowers were zinnias and chrysanthemums, so they were planted all over the garden. You used to sat on a bench next to zinnias. You were telling him how much you liked them, so he found that nickname. Zin as zinnias, the flowers.

Zinnias were you code word too. When you were sad all you had to tell him was this word and he knew that it was the time for him to stop joking.

It was normal to you to fall for him. He was always tough, muscular, rich, funny, kind, grumpy, sweet —when he wasn't grumpy— and ridiculously handsome. But you realized that late. You knew you were in love with him in high-school. He was the guy all the girls wanted to lay with. Bjorn had laid almost with all of them. That hurt your feelings, but you knew that he was like that. He didn't want anything serious back then too. You used to get yourself in trouble all the time and Bjorn managed to get you out of it every time as the tough and muscular guy he had always been. The guys who were hitting on you, trying to sleep with you and you were ditching them not in the polite way didn't dare to mess with you because they knew they would be dead by him.

Bjorn would never let anyone touch you like that.

Anyways, you didn't use this as a code word anymore. Bjorn was the one who used it as a nickname for you and you kept telling him not to call you zin.

"Don't call me that." You grumbled. "Being their son means lots of duties. You have to prove that you are not just a spoiled brat but a man worthy of the name he carries. You have to work to be great just like them." You said and sipped again from the glass you were still holding.

The brunette next to Bjorn rolled her eyes and put her hand on his chest.

"You didn't answer the question." She spoke and you were the one to roll your eyes this time.

These women were really stupid. You couldn't even looking at them. They were made you feel angry and dizzy at the same time.

The blonde one threw the hand of her friemd away from Bjorn's chest and put her own. She didn't just to put it to be honest, she started caressing his chest above the black shirt he wore.

This move was something you didn't like. You didn't like women touching him like that. They could have sex but not that. You didn't like when they tried to be something more than that.

You hated the idea of someone being more than that for him.

And that someone wasn't you.

If it was someone, you would try to accept it. You wouldn't like it, but you would try. If there was, you would move on.

After your answer Bjorn wasn't like before. He wasn't even paying attention to the girls, like he had forgotten that they were there. His blue eyes were fixed on your figure and his mind was replaying your answer. Those words were the exact words he believed. He felt exactly the same way as you did.

"Hey Bjorn!" Exclaimed the blonde one and he lookes at her forming a smirk on his lips. "What about my question?" She asked him in a certain way that made you roll your eyes again.

"Yes, your question." He said smiling.

Bjorn was about to give an answer, a really stupid answer, but someone's voice stopped him and it wasn't yours. It was Rollo's. His father's brother. His uncle.

"Bjorn!" You smiled and hit him at the back of his neck. Bjorn stood up and greeted his uncle the way they always did. Rollo's left Bjorn and fell on the chics and then on you. He smirked and turned to his nephew. "And who the ladies might be?" He askes referring to the stupid women who were sitting with Bjorn previously.

The names was something that Bjorn could never recall. This time wasn't different. He didn't remember the names of those two women he was speaking with the last forty minutes.

"I am Natalie and that's Sonia." The brunette spoke to him and his smirk grew wider. You rolled your eyes again and turned all of your attention to your drink.

Rollo wasn't a person that you liked. He had something that was strange. His vibe was strange. You thought him untrustworthy after he betrayed Ragnar and teamed up with that Borg guy. You had told Bjorn too, but he made sure to tell you that Rollo was fine which you didn't think so. Your father didn't like Rollo too. When Floki was talking about him, he was calling him traitor and he wasn't wrong.

The girls seemed to be more interesting to Rollo than to Bjorn after they met him. Of course, they stuck with whoever have greater reputation. If Ragnar was there, they would be right next to him.

They were still talking, but you didn't care about what they were saying until you heard Rollo talking to you. You didn't want to answer, but you knew better than ignore him. Bjorn would be mad at you if you ignored the traitor. He wouldn't talk to you and he would be grumpy. When Bjorn was grumpy, he was unbearable.

"Aye, (Y/N)!" Rollo exclaimed and you turned to look at them. You forced a smile on your face. "You look lovely as always." He brandished you and you tried really hard not to roll your eyes again. You tried not to look like you didn't likw him but that wasn't really easy.

"Thank you, Rollo." You said back and downed the liquid in your glass. You motioned to barman to pour you another one.

After some more talking with Bjorn, Rollo took the girls and left Bjorn and yourself alone. As alone you could be inside a bar. Bjorn sat down on a stool next to the one you were sitting and motioned to the guy to pour him one more too.

"You didn't seem pleased when you saw Rollo." Bjorn managed to say.

"You know my opinion about him. It's the same with the one my father has for your uncle." You spoke back and tilted your head to look at him.

"He is not that bad."

"Exactly. He is worse."

"That's not what I meant, (Y/N)."

It was strange to call you by your name. He didn't use it often. He went by zin or pet or brat or something else apart your own name. It sounded better than it was supposed to when it came out of him mouth.

"That's what I meant, Bjorn. That man would do anything for power. He is jealous of his own brother because of that." You said and sipped from your drink. Bjorn followed your movements. He placed his glass on the counter and turnes his head to look at you. His beautiful eyes locked with yours.

"Power is dangerous. It—" You stopped him giggling.

"I know. I know. It attracts the worst and corrupts the best. You have told me that before and I remember me telling you that Ragnar is right." You said giggling and giggled too.

Ragnar was a good man. You admired him. He was right in many things. Your father loved him. He really did. Ragnar was Floki's best friend.

"He is." Bjorn muttered and downed his drink.

"Easy, bear. We don't want you to get drunk." You mocked and you smirked.

"We?" He mocked back and you laughed.

"Yes, we, because I'll be the one who is going to carry you home." You answered him and downes you own drink.

It was his turn to mock you.

"We don't want you drunk either." He pointed out and took the glass of your hands placing it on the counter in front of him. You laughed and narrowed your eyes at him.

"Why not?" You asked him laughing. He was smirking at you all the time.

"Because I'll be the one to carry you." He used you own words to mock you and you laughed again. Only this time, you noticed you were way too close and that made your body burning and you heart beating faster inside your chest.

"Well, I am not a huge bear like you."

You were really close this time. Closer than before. The smirk was fixed on his face. You, on the other hand, stopped laughing. You were just looking at him. You were just inches away from each other. Your eyes left his gaze and looked at his lips. They seemed soft. For a moment you caught yourself thinking about the way they tasted. His eyes was looking at you lips too, but not for long.

Bjorn pulled himself away from you and stood up.

"Come on, zin. Time to go home. We drank enough for tonight." He spoke and you followed him.

You felt kind of disappointed. For a moment you wanted to kiss him. In fact, you expected him to kiss you. Women were speakimg about those kisses of him. The called them unique. He had his way with everything. You wanted to feel his kiss. You wanted to feel Bjorn. But you wouldn't try any move on him you didn't want to destroy everything you had.

You were walking next to him, you were outside the busy bar. It was normal to be busy a night like that. It was Saturday night. Bjorn turned to look at you.

"I am going to get the car. You stay here." He spoke and you nodded staying there as he was walking through the direction he had parked his car.

It was kind of boring to wait for him. You had nothing to do. Until someone spoke to you, or better screamed your name qnd you looked at his direction. It was one of your father's friends, Torstein.

"Oh hey!" You exclaimed as he was coming closer to you.

"Are you here on your own?" He asked you as he didn't notice anyone around you. You smiled at him politely.

"No, I was here with Bjorn but he went to get the car. We are leaving." You explained and his smile grew wider. He was definitely drunk.

"Is Bjorn here?" He asked happily and a small smile formed on your face.

"Yep. In fact, he will be here at a minute or so." You answered looking around for Bjorn or even his car.

"How's Floki?" He asked you and your smile grew wider at the name of your father.

"He's good. Just the way Floki always is." You spoke and he laughed. Before he could say anything Bjorn showed up, standing next to you.

"Just the man I wanted to see!" Torstein said loudly and Bjorn greeted him.

They talked a bit about what they are currently doing and about Ragnar. Then Torstein left and Bjorn turned to you.

"Come." He said and you followed him.

"It was nice to see him." You spoke to Bjorn. He didn't reply. "It's nice to see that my dad has some friends apart from his obsession with Ragnar." You continued, as Bjorn was driving.

"Nobody is a real friend around here, (Y/N)." He finally said and you turned to look at him frowned.

"Ragnar, Floki and Torstein seem to be friends though." You said.

"They are." He replied.

"And Athelstan is a close friend to your father." You pointed out.

"He is. I am not talking about them." He said and stopped at the red light.

"I see." You paused for a moment. You couldn't stay silent. You couldn't resist him. You had been wanting to kiss him since the moment inside the bar. "Is that something your father saying as well?" You asked and he looked at you frowned out of confusion before he started moving again. "I mean this that nobody is a real friend." You said not looking at him.

You wanted to kiss him. You felt embarrassed about that. You couldn't keep yourself.

"Yeah." He answered. You smiled and an idea came into your mind.

"Then—" You pointed and paused for a moment. "Let me think." You said again and cleared your throat. He seemed kind of confused but you didn't mind. "Oh yeah!" You exclaimed excited. "Then, we should not be just friends." You spoke like it was something casual but it wasn't. Your heart was pounding in your chest really loud. You felt nervous and kind of embarrassed, but you had just said it. It couldn't be unsaid.

"What?" He asked surprised and glanced at you for a moment.

"I mean—" You paused and breathed. "You know what I mean." You said and he smirked. You were almost outside your house.

"If you want to have sex with, all you have to do is to tell me." He told smirking and stopped rigjt in front of your house.

His words made you feel really embarrassed. Your cheeks were totally red and you seemed like a strawberry or a tomato.

"Forget whatever I said. See you tom—" You were saying and tried to get out of his car and breathe normal again, but his hand wrapped around your wrist and kept you captured in his car.

You turned your gaze at him. He was still smirking at you. Bjorn pulled you closer to his body. You were as close as you were at the bar.

"Tell me what you want." He told you, looking at your eyes. Your eyes couldn't look him in his own eyes. You were looking at his lips.

You couldn't form a proper word. You wanted him. You wanted him more than anything. You body was burning. It craved his touch. The skin of your wrist that he was holding was burning more than your whole body.

Before he could say anything else you pressed your lips to his. His hands moved on your waist and pulled you closer to him by that part of your body. Your body was on his burning one. His strong body was hotter than yours. You could feel it giving some of his hotness to your own body. Bjorn was a good kisser. The best kisser. This was the best kiss someone had even given to you. You were the one who kissed him, but he was in charge of this kiss. He was bitting your bottom lip and you were moaning each time his teeth trapped your lip even deeper. His tongue invaded in your mouth and started dancing with it.

His hands moved at lower than your lower back. He had trapped your ass with both his hands tightly. You left the passenger seat you had been sitting on and moved on his lap. Your own hands were wrapped around his neck.

His mouth wasn't just kissing and bitting you. It was claiming your mouth by each one of his moves. Your hands left his neck and cupped both of his cheeks.

He didn't want to stop kissing you, but both of you needed to breathe. You pulled away but not away enough. You were just some inches away.

You couldn't stop smiling at him. It was weird to look at him after you kissed him, but he made sure to make you feel comfortable. Bjorn lifted your chin by his hand and made you look at him. He was smiling at you too.

"You don't have to feel embarrassed and blush about it, zin. It was just a kiss." Bjorn told you and the smile left your face. You were disappointed by his answer. You wanted it to be something more. You felt something more. But you knew Bjorn was too well. He didn't want what you wanted. He didn't want things to get serious between us, as he didn't want things to get serious with nobody else.

You moved on his lap ready to go back to the passenger seat and then walk out of this car. You wanted to go to your house and fall on the couch. You were embarrassed. All this were embarrassing. Your plans were thrown out of the window by Bjorn. He had other plans. His hand wrapped around your waist again and stopped you. He trapped you between his hands and looked at you confused.

"I am waking up early tomorrow. I have to sleep, Bjorn." You spoke, trying to avoid his gaze. You tried to move away from him, but he didn't let you again.

Bjorn noticed that something was wrong with you. You had called him Bjorn and not bear. When he called you zin you called him bear. This time he called you zin, but you called him Bjorn. You were all nice and happy but after the kiss you shared you acted all weird, calling him Bjorn and not bear. He kept telling you not to call him bear but Bjorn, as you kept telling him not to call you zin but by your name.

"I know that this is a lie. Tell me what's going on. The truth, (Y/N)." He said. Bjorn's hand made it on your chin again and he lifted your head to look at his bothered blue eyes again. "You know that you can tell me anything, zin." He continued and you tried not to let the tears that threatened you to fall.

"Anything but that. I can't tell you that."

"Hey, you can tell me everything, (Y/N). Try me."

You looked away for a moment to crear your mimd and gather your courage and tell him the truth. After all these years you were finally about to tell him. Maybe his rejection would make you see through him, would make you forget about your feelings about him and finally move on.

"I—" You paused for a moment. You were speaking and not looking at him. Then you looked at him again, ready to tell him everything. "I love you. That's the reason I kissed you. I - I have those feelings for you from high school. But I understand that you don't want me like that. It was my mistake to kiss you, but I couldn't keep myself from doing so." You confessed. After you spoke your words, you were looking anywhere else in the car and out of it except him.

"No, no. That kiss was the right thing to do. I like you for a while as well. But, as you told yourself, I can't give you what you want. I am not the man who craves commitments, (Y/N)." He spoke. He was looking at you all the time. You didn't. You were looking outside the window, tearing up, trying not to let him understand that you were like that. "Hey! Look at me!" He told you and you did as he said. Bjorn's hand left your waist and wiped away your tears. You closed your eyes and let him touch your face. "Don't cry. Not for me and anyone else. Men like me don't deserve this." Bjorn whispered to you and you started crying. His hand was about to clean your face again, but you stopped him.

"Don't fucking tell me what to fucking do, Bjorn!I will fucking cry for you and whoever else I fucking want!" You yelled at him and covered your face with your hands.

You didn't really know the reason you were like that. You knew exactly how Bjorn was and yet you were crying over this. Actually, you were crying for no actual reason.

Bjorn didn't talk. He didn't know what to say. He felt bad seeing you like that. He thought that he liked you, but its wasn't just that anymore. Seeing you crying made his heart clench inside his chest.

"(Y/N)." He muttered your name and took your hands away from your face. He cleaned your tears. This time you let him do it. Your eyes wasn't looking at him. They were closed. His hand stayed on your cheek caressing it after he finished cleaning your face from the tears.

"I am sorry." You muttered back and finally opened your eyes.

Bjorn loved your eyes. He had told you that they were innocent and playful at the same time. Your father used to say that those two eyes of yours could destroy the whole world by one of your looks. Those eyes after all this crying were red and they hurt.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." He whispered.

You were still on his lap but you didn't care about that after your confession to him about your feelings.

"Let me finish." You told him, looking at him. "I'm sorry for making you feel so uncomfortable. I know exactly what you believe. You don't like commitments and I am okay with this. We can still be friends if you want. I mean, it would be okay if you don't want us to be friends after what I told you." You rambled, still looking at the man any woman would be on her knees for.

Bjorn was thinking about something, you could tell by the look on his face.

"No, I don't think that we can do that. I can't do that." He finally said after some moments of pure silence. You nodded your head at his words.

"I see and I—" He didn't let you finish.

"You don't understand, but I don't blame you." He spoke. Bjorn came closer to you. You were confused by him. He said that you couldn't be friends but he didn't mean that. That man was so complicated. Bjorn Ironside Lothbrok would be the death of you for sure. "You know that I don't like commitments. I don't date. I can't date you. I thought that I just liked you, but that was only until I saw you crying. Seeing you crying felt like someone was ripping my heart off my body." He confessed not looking at you anymore.

"You mean that—" You tried to say again, but his hoarse voice stopped you.

"I want to try for us, but you know how I am like." Bjorn spoke and rubbed the back of his neck. You chuckled at him and he did the same.

"Okay. Do you want us to take it slow?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

"Good."

"Good." Both of your voices at the end were soft. Bjorn was smirking all the time and you were grinning at him. "Where were we?" He asked after some time, that smirk was still fixed on his face. You were inches away from him again. He brushed his lips against yours and you moaned softly.

"In the part after I kissed you." You answered and as you spoke each one of your words your lips were touching slightly his own.

"Oh yeah that part. Is this the part you inviting me in your house or the one we calling it a night? I'm asking because we agreed to take things slow." Bjorn said nervously and you chuckled.

"I think that's the part where—" You stopped and just looked at him for a moment. Your hand was on his arm caressing him. "You and me are going inside my house and then it's up to you what happens. My parts are ending the moment we enter my house, bear." You continued and his smirk grew wider.

"Then, we shouldn't waste our time in here, zin." He said and you smiled again. You returned on the passenger seat and get out of his car. Bjorn did the same thing and within a moment you were inside your house.

"My part ends here." You reminded him.

His hands found the sides of your top and pulled you closer to him by them.

"Good." He spoke and pressed his lips violently on yours. The kiss was rougher than the previous one. His mouth was sucking you lips and you were trying hard not to moan all the time.

You didn't stop kissing even when you started unbuttoning his shirt's buttons. You took it off and stopped the kiss this time to admire his strong body, that was marked on many parts of it of ink or little scars. Within this little pause, he found the chance to pull your black top up and take it off your body, leaving you with your bra. Both of you kicked your shoes off your feet.

Bjorn placed his strong, huge hands on your waist and placed you on his shoulder. His hand landed on your ass and you laughed. You couldn't see him, but you could guess that he was smirking. Bjorn walked with you on his shoulder through the hallway that led to your bedroom.

When you were inside there, he threw you on your bed. Bjorn's hand went to his belt and he took it off his pants. He came closer to you and trapped your hands in one of his own. He wrapped his belt around your hands tightly and tied it on your bed's back.

"If you don't like anything that I am doing, tell me and I will stop. Okay?" He asked you as he was tying you on the bed.

"Yes." You spoke.

He didn't say anything else. His large hands squeezed your breasts above your bra and you moaned. You tried to move your hands, but that was impossible. They were tied really tightly on your bed. Bjorn's hands left your breasts and moved at your back, he unclipped your bra and threw it on the floor along with his pants.

After this, his mouth attacked one of your breasts. He licked, bit and sucked your nipple and you were moaning louder than before under him. His free hand was pushing your belly back on the mattress to keep you stable under him.

Bjorn run his hand slowly from your breast to belly and then at the start of your pants. You groaned when his hands unzipped your pants and took it off your body.

His mouth was kissing your left thigh, each kiss was higher than the previous one. After some kisses, his mouth was on your inner thigh, inches away from your wet entrance. Bjorn stopped for a moment and his blue, insatiable eyes glances at you. Your eyes were waiting impatiently for his next movement. He smirked at the sight of you.

His hand — that wasn't pushing you down on the mattress by your belly — ripped off your wet panties. Without any warning, he slipped two hands of his inside you and you groaned. Your back arced, but he didn't let you move from the mattress. His hand pushed you down on the mattress once more.

The moves his fingers did inside you were rough and fast. You couldn't control yourself. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning and groaning.

"Bjorn—" You groaned loudly, close to you climax, but your release never came. You opened your eyes when his fingers were out of you. You frowned as you were about cry about this. He smirked and his face moved close to yours. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss.

When he pulled away and his hands didn't touch your body anymore, you tried to reach him, but the belt which held your hands still on the bed prevented you from reaching him.

"Don't be impatient and greedy, zin." He said in the playful tone of his voice. "We have all night ahead us and probably more nights like this one." He stated and you grinned. Bjorn got rid of his underwear too, freeing his huge arousal. You gasped at his size. "Relax, zin. It's just me." He said, knowing that you felt kind of nervous for the his next movements. He knew way too well to read you.

"Bjorn, please." You mumbled and he smirked.

"Please what?" He said playfully.

"Please take me." You mumbled again and his smirk grew wider than before.

"On my way."

These were his last words, before he placed himself between you legs. Before you know it, he pushed himself deep inside you and you groaned loudly. You weren't used to his size. His thrusts were rough and fast, each one was deeper than the previous one. He hurt you at first.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked you when he noticed the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. He stopped moving but didn't pull his member away from you. You opened your eyes and looked at the man between your legs.

"No, don't stop. Please Bjorn, move." You whispered and that was the only thing he needed to hear to continue.

His movements were faster and deeper than before. This time, his mouth moved on your neck. Bjorn started leaving marks on it. You were groaning and screaming his name. You wanted to touch him, but it was impossible with your hands were tied like that.

After some thrusts of his, you were on your climax. Your body tightened around him and he growled. Bjorn knew you were close.

"Bjorn!" You screamed his name louder than before as you were coming.

"Fuck!" He growled and came too, after you.

Bjorn's hands moved on your own whick were tying with his belt. He untied them and laid down on the mattress next to you. His hands wrapped themselves around your body and pulled you closer to him.

"Relax for a moment and then we will do it again." He said and kissed you hard.

[thegremlincrowsnest]

A Slice of Cheesecake

Fatgum x poc!reader

CW: Slight breed kink, thigh fucking, mentions of vagina, slight anal play, creampies, mentions of daddy in a sexual way, kitchen and sex around food

Color Code

Orange: Fatgum

blue: Reader

Pink: Fatgums inner thoughts

WC: 1.7k

If you like my writing consider donating to my Ko-fi

You can also read this fic on AO3

Fatgum was definitely your favorite customer to bake for. Tips generously and an absolute beaut to stare at while you work. He always came past your shop on his breaks or days off just to watch you. “Ya know, I can always help fill those buns for ya sugar plum.” He would say with a smirk. You just giggle and shake your head as you continue to fill and dip your eclairs. You were finishing up some orders to deliver, and he offered to stay and help you out. You accepted his help with a smile as the pro-hero helped pack cupcakes, cookies, and pastries.

Everything was going great until you went to change. When you work, you wear chef pants, a plain t-shirt, and your apron. But for deliveries, your outfit was much. Much different. Fatgum couldn’t help himself as he stared, seeing your soft stomach peek out from your crop top. He has to hide behind your counter as you fix the garter belts from under your skirt. He groaned softly as he saw how your thighs bulge from the garter belt and thigh highs. Your skirt was absolutely sinful being so short, bending over. He got a glimpse of those soft pink lace panties. Walking around, he pressed himself against you. “Baby...I don’ know if ya should go out like that. Pretty thin’ like you could get devoured.” He says, deep voice low. His two large hands came to hold your wide hips. Groaning loudly as he saw his fingers sink into your love handles.

Looking up at him with big doe eyes, you smiled. “Oh~ well, I don’t have anything to worry about with a big strong hero like you, Taishiro~,” You say as you grind against his growing hard-on. You slip from his grip with a giggle as you finish packing up orders. “Ok, now let’s go!”

Walking down the street with you was a blessin and a curse for Fatgum. Seeing your thick ass sway in that skirt was torture ‘Little Nymph,’ he thought to himself. Going from customer to customer was easy enough. You were so sweet to each one, and he could only smile softly at you. Seeing you dote on each and every one. The sun was setting as you finished, and the teasing was getting worse. On trains, you were pressed so close to him, you smelled like sugar and warm spices. Your skin contrasted beautifully against his yellow costume as you held onto him. Brown, golden skin that he swore always shimmered in the sunlight. You both were able to finish earlier than you thought, so he decides to treat you a bit. You were already in the shopping district, and he saw how your eyes lingered on some of the displays. Laying a hand on your hip, he leaned down to your ear. “Would you like me to buy that for ya, Darlin?” He asks. You stifle a soft groan at how close he is; turning to him, you reply. “No! I should be treating you to something for helping me out today.”

His eyes darken a bit at those doe eyes you give him. Fuck, you look so cute. He stands up and looks around, smirking as he looks down at you. “Then I know how we both can win.” He says as he walks you down an ally, a hole-in-the-wall sex shop that you’re surprised the BMI hero would know of. As you both walk in, he brings you towards some expensive pieces. He tells you to pick out what you'd like as he sits down on a stool.

Watching you was a pleasure, watching you bounce around from display to display, skirt riding up as you bent down. He bit the inside of his cheek before he motioned for one of the employees.

You look up to see Fatgum whispering to one of the employees before looking back at you with a smirk. Picking a few sets, you walk up to him, face warm as you smirk back to him. He looks them over, letting out a low growl at the soft lace of one of the panties before nodding over to the employee again.

The walk back home was swift, entering your shop and making sure all of the blinds were drawn. Fatgum then pinned you against the front counter, licking and nibbling on your neck as he rubbed your clit through your panties. “Such a sweet boy for me...so tasty,” He says as he helps strip your clothes. He pulls out his favorite set along with a relatively thick butt plug. “If you’re ok with this, Darlin, I’d love to see you wear these while you bake me a little cheesecake, baby.” He says as he holds them out for you. You nod quickly, slipping on the lingerie and bending over to prep your ass. Before you can open the cap for the lube, he stops you. “Please sugah let me help ya.” He says as he pours lube over your hole. Groaning softly at how you clench around nothing. Gently pushing a finger against your hole, kissing down your back, he pushes one in. It takes a few minutes of him kissing your neck and ear as he stretches you out before sliding the lubed-up plug into your ass. You whimper at the stretch, your pussy dripping with arousal as he pulls up your panties. He kisses you deeply before patting your ass to the kitchen.

Cooking while being watched was something you were used to before, but with the current circumstances, your head was foggy. Fatgum would come up behind you to “help,” pressing the plug in your ass or groping your breast. Finally, as you placed the cheesecake in the oven with a water bath, you began prepping some toppings. As you began to whip up some cream, he decided it was time to push further. Pulling your panties down, he pressed your thighs together. Bending you over, he lifted you gently as he slid his cock between your thighs. Moaning softly at the heat radiating from your dripping center. Your head was spinning; you could smell his arousal mixed in with sweat. You desperately wanted to get on your knees and bury your nose in it. He was no better; wafts of your arousal filled his nose as the soft plushness of your thighs squeezed him perfectly.

You groan softly as you feel the head of his cock brush against your clit. Looking up at him, you whimper, “P-Please Taishiro. Fuck me, I can’t stand the teasing anymore.” You beg. In response, he spreads your thighs apart and presses you down onto the counter. He can’t help himself but allow his hands to wander over your soft skin, admiring every stretch mark, scar and blemish. “Fuck Baby Boy… ‘Ave I ever told ya how beautiful you are?” He asks as he undoes your top. You’re about to respond until you feel his large hands grope your breast. Kneading them gently, your body shivers, “N-No, but I could tell with how you look at me.” You respond with a soft smile.

He leans down and kisses you gently on the lips, cradling your face in his hands like you’ll break at any second. He lifts one of your legs up onto his shoulder, wrapping the other around his waist. You gasp, seeing just how big he is, almost 12 inches long; it’s slightly darker than the rest of him, it's as thick as a can of soda, and you briefly worry about how it will fit. “Don’t be scared, my little darlin’. I’ll make sure you feel really good.” He says as he presses the tip against your entrance. He leans down again, kissing you deeply as he begins to push in. You whimper and grip his shoulders, feeling the head of his cock push through your entrance. He stops and gently pulls out before pushing back in, reaching down to rub your clit as he works his cock. Finally, after a few moments, he's able to bottom out inside of you. Even with your soft stomach, you can still see the outline of his cock in you. He moans loudly, seeing it as well; pressing down on it gently, he begins a steady pace. His large, heavy balls slap against your ass as he grips your thigh with one hand. The other is near your head, trying to keep himself steady.

“F-faster Taishiro~ Please faster!” You moan out as you begin to pinch and pull on your nipples. He doesn’t protest; pressing your knees to your chest, he starts thrusting faster. His precum fills you up and begins to drip down onto the floor; loud nasty slapping sounds reverberate against the tile walls as he continues his fast pace. He’s grunting like a bull as he sees your breast and stomach squished under your thighs and his hands. You’re so soft and sweet and beautiful to him; he wants to take you home and spoil you.

“Taishiro! Oh my god, I’m gonna cum!” You moan out as you feel your walls tighten around his cock. He grunts as he holds you close, face nuzzled into your tight curls as he wraps his arms around you, legs dangling off of his broad shoulders. “Cum for me, Sugah Plum~ Cum all over daddy’s cock” He grunts as he moves you like a fleshlight. “Daddy daddy daddy! Fill me up! Please fill me up!” You respond. He leans back to watch your face as he thrusts as deeply as he can before holding you down on his cock. He groans loudly as his cock twitches pumping you full of cum. His body shivers as he can’t help but continue to hump you gently as he breeds you. You don’t fight it, tightening your legs around him as your cunt milks him.

You’re both blissed-out, kissing each other sloppily as he humps you. Tongues and teeth clash together as you pant for more. “Y-Y/n, I love you, I love you please be mine.” He says as he reaches down to rub your clit, extending your orgasm along with his. You nod frantically as he licks and sucks on your neck, “I love you too~ Please mark me up, Taishi” You moan out as you feel his cock harden again.

You’re both startled by the timer going off. Not wanting to pull out, he holds you close to him with one hand as he maneuvers to get the cheesecake out of the oven. Placing it on the cooling rack, he looks down at you with a smirk. “I hope you have enough energy, my little cheesecake, cause I’m gonna make sure you reak of my cum for days.”

[bestworstcase]

on ‘villainy’ and varian’s and cassandra’s moral codes

for all that varian’s and cassandra’s villain arcs get compared to death they’re really more different than they are similar, and i think one of the more interesting distinctions is the characters’ moral perspectives on their own actions--namely that varian recognizes his own choices as villainous and consciously self-identifies as a ‘bad guy’ and cassandra not only…doesn’t do that but appears legitimately taken aback when varian says she’s ‘become the villain.’ from this we can infer that varian is transgressing his own personal sense of right and wrong while cassandra isn’t.

and… well with varian i think it’s pretty straightforward: he’s a kid who desperately wants to make the world a better place and make his father proud, but his impulsivity and recklessness and general disregard for lab safety foil his plans and get him into trouble. then one of his accidents puts his dad into what is essentially a magical coma and varian becomes singularly focused on reviving him--and, when he realizes that the king is more invested in covering up the problem than fixing it and his only hope lies with a zealously guarded relic belonging to the kingdom, he decides that the only way to achieve this goal is to start breaking the rules.

so he asks rapunzel--his friend who promised to help him--to retrieve some information the king is trying to steal from him, and then persuades her to help him access the sundrop vault; then when she balks at stealing it he makes it clear that he no longer trusts her and escapes with the flower. at this point he’s in the morally dubious zone; being strategic about what he tells rapunzel to make sure she helps him, spiking cookies with truth serum to sow chaos and get information he needs, and doing things that are crimes on paper but also largely victimless. i think these were things varian could probably rationalize as okay--not exactly good, but no one got hurt and he got what he needed.

except the flower’s magic is gone. he drugged the palace, manipulated rapunzel and broke her trust in him, and committed treason all for something useless because the actual magic of the sundrop is in rapunzel herself. now he’s in trouble, because he needs rapunzel’s help but his desperate measures guaranteed she won’t be willing to help him again. and this is when varian realizes that his only options are 1. give up on saving his dad and turn himself in and hope rapunzel takes pity on him, or 2. accept that no one is going to help him now and do whatever it takes to free quirin himself.

so--mutating ruddiger, attacking the city, kidnapping arianna and threatening her with encasement in amber, building an automaton army to defend him while he works--these are all things that varian feels are wrong, but chooses to do anyway because he doesn’t trust that anyone else will even try to save his father. despite his anger and his rationalizations, at the end of the day varian sees himself as doing bad things for good reasons. (“Believe me, I know/I’ve sunk pretty low” & “I’m the bad guy, that’s fine”)

and when his reasons fall through--when he fails to free his dad--he falls quickly into guilt and despair over having hurt people for nothing. he stews for a year in how unforgivable and ashamed he feels, and even when he teams up with the separatists, he’s doing it in, basically, pursuit of a reset button: he wants to take back what he did. and when rapunzel shows him that he can be forgiven, he can have a second chance, he does have people who are willing to help him and trust him again, he drops the memory-wiping idea and his alliance with the separatists without a second thought--because what rapunzel actually does is give him a way to pursue his goals without sacrificing his conscience, which is what he really needed the whole time.

now, cassandra, on the other hand…

cass is an interesting character in this regard because, while she does want to be a hero, she’s not at all altruistic. she’s consumed by her lack of autonomy and she craves not only control over her own life but also respect from the people around her--her desire to be a hero is very self-interested, at its core. and moreover she has a somewhat fatalistic view of the world wherein some people (not her) matter and some… just don’t. 

moreover cassandra, despite her ambitions of becoming a guard, doesn’t so much as blink at eugene’s or the pub thugs’ criminal pasts--she is suspicious of lance at first, but on the grounds that he’s an unrepentant thief who showed up out of the blue under suspicious circumstances to ‘reconnect’ with his old partner in crime; eugene is also distrustful of lance, for the exact same reasons--and of course she doesn’t think twice about breaking the law herself. literally one of the very first things we see cassandra do is commit treason to make her friend happy. cass doesn’t care about the law, and she only wants to be a guard because she associates getting the job with having her dad’s approval and it’s also her ticket out of lifelong servitude.

on the other hand, cass does seem have a strong sense of right and wrong where people she cares about are concerned. she is constantly putting the desires and well-being of her friends ahead of not just her ambitions (e.g. in beginnings for rapunzel, or great expotations for varian) but also her own safety (e.g. risking her livelihood and home to sneak rapunzel out for the night in bea, or setting aside her misgivings about the sketchy bird people in freebird). 

which is all to say--cass isn’t exactly amoral but the moral framework through which she sees the world is… more complicated than varian’s. she doesn’t seem particularly motivated to help strangers but she’ll move mountains to help people she cares about; she doesn’t care much about rules or laws except insofar as she doesn’t want to get caught breaking them, and she has this hierarchical mindset that some people matter--meaning, they get to make decisions for themselves and have people care about what they need and want--and some don’t, and that she herself is stuck in the latter category despite her best efforts to climb out of it.

which brings us to the subject of the moonstone, and cassandra’s villain arc, and why cass, unlike varian, doesn’t consider herself a bad person.

i think what it comes down to most is this: taking the moonstone is an act of defiance against not only rapunzel but also fate itself. waiting in the wings sets up cassandra’s resigned acceptance of this hierarchical order and her own cosmic insignificance, and then in crossing the line she REJECTS that same order. she’s raging against rapunzel but also against the cultural and legal and destined systems that put rapunzel on top and forced cass into subservience. she is very literally fighting for her freedom against the universe itself.

and when cass was not an altruistic or heavily morally motivated or even particularly law-abiding person before, and when her conscience has always been predominantly oriented around taking care of her friends first and herself second, and when the thing that drove her to this breaking point was her friends spitting that back in her face… well.

it’s easy to say “cass literally tried to murder rapunzel a bunch of times, how can she possibly believe she’s the good guy?”--but rapunzel maimed cass, blamed her for it, and consistently prioritized her destiny over cassandra’s wellbeing; and rapunzel represents the cosmic order that cass is fighting to liberate herself from. and while i know that the -popular- take on be very afraid is “cass is terrified of hurting rapunzel,” i submit it’s actually “cass is terrified of having to fight rapunzel, because she still believes that fate is literally tilted in rapunzel’s favor and she can’t win a direct fight with rapunzel.” that’s why she’s so scared; that’s why rapunzel seemingly deleting the red rocks hardens her resolve; that’s why she marches into corona with maximum drama and bluster and builds a fortress and tries so hard to mess with rapunzel’s head before the battle begins. she’s trying to even the odds. and that’s why, when rapunzel stomps her into the curb, cassandra’s immediate response is “i need an army.”

cassandra isn’t scared for rapunzel. she is scared OF rapunzel.

we do also see cass trying not to harm people she considers to be innocent bystanders; she uses the truth serum on varian bc she needs the incantation, but afterwards she doesn’t even bother to restrain him until after he starts pestering her, she says flat out that she doesn’t want him to get hurt when she fights rapunzel; similarly she is willing to hurt calliope to force rapunzel to comply, but--despite her deep personal dislike of calliope--uses a minimum amount of force and again verbally expresses that she doesn’t particularly want to hurt her, that it’s a means to an end and nothing more. attacking rapunzel? that’s fine, rapunzel is her enemy. attacking eugene? of course, he’s rapunzel’s closest ally. mind controlling the brotherhood? that kills two birds with one stone--eliminating powerful enemies with a vested interest in taking the moonstone away from her and turning them into allies who can level the playing field between her and rapunzel. and when she does finally snap and raze corona to the ground? the people of corona attacked her first. i think cass ABSOLUTELY sees herself as fighting a purely defensive war against people who have or will hurt her.

and this is, of course, ultimately why varian failed to get through to her during ‘nothing left to lose’--he appealed to her sense of morality and her sense of morality shrugged. 

as for the thing that snaps her out of it? the moment that forces her to question whether she’s really as right as she thinks she is? it’s learning who her new friend really is. it’s the shock of finding out that she’s been allied with, confiding in, taking advice from a legendary villain, from a monster she likely grew up hearing stories about. cass takes it as a given that zhan tiri is evil--and if she’s friends with zhan tiri, what does that make her? and even then, cass is resistant to the idea that she might be a villain--“No, no, I’m nothing like you. Just because I’m pursuing my destiny doesn’t make me a bad person!”--which is, ultimately, very telling of her whole mindset. she’s not a bad guy, she’s fighting for her freedom. she’s not a bad guy, she’s protecting herself against people who want to exploit her. she’s not a bad guy, she’s just putting herself first for once.

and OAH generally, i’d argue, is not actually about cassandra trying to reconcile with rapunzel or redeem herself or be a better person, it’s… literally cass trying frantically to prove she’s NOT the bad guy. it’s “oh yeah? you think i’m a bad person? well could a bad guy do THIS? *lies and impersonates a former coworker and gets up on a stage to justify her own actions in front of a crowd*” it’s “a bad guy wouldn’t apologize, rapunzel never apologized for anything, and to prove i’m a better person I’M going to apologize! see? SEE!?”--and then everyone in corona attacks her and she goes “FINE, i’m the bad guy, fuck you all” and wrecks the place.

only then--only in plus est en vous--does cassandra get into a mindset similar to varian’s, of “i am the bad guy but if i can pull this off it will be worth it.” she’s not sorry. she still sees rapunzel as an enemy trying to get her under control again, and the only thing that’s really changed is cassandra acknowledging that she has in fact done bad things too.

and… i would argue that by the end of plus est cassandra… feels some guilt but isn’t sorry. “i’ve failed” and “i’ve done terrible things” and “i tried to prove i was more than everyone thought but they were right”--her anguish is not like varian’s anguish in RR, where he was consumed with despair because no one could possibly forgive him for the things he did. cassandra is upset because she did awful things and failed and she perceives that failure as proof of her own worthlessness. she’s right back to feeling how she felt in waiting in the wings but with a hefty new helping of self-disgust and shame for having been stupid enough to believe she could change anything for herself. 

she’s not sorry. she’s not pleading for forgiveness. she just wants rapunzel to give up and leave her alone--& then, after rapunzel convinces her that she’s wrong, and she does have worth as a person, and she does have a destiny of her own, cass does what’s necessary to clean up the crisis she created and then… just bounces. she gets the freedom she wanted and leaves without a backward glance.

(which. good for her.)

tl;dr: varian’s villain arc explores his moral scruples and what it takes for him to be willing to ignore them, whereas cassandra’s villain arc explores her incendiary reaction to a lifetime of injustices; she isn’t amoral but her sense of right and wrong is, unlike varian’s, very contextual and personal. varian is a pragmatic idealist who wants to be lawful good but is capable of setting his own morals aside in pursuit of a goal he considers to be important enough, and cassandra is one radicalizing incident away from realizing that her grievances are not a unique personal failing but a systemic problem and then leading a class uprising.