#that should be relatively easy (I say naively)

[throwing-roses-into-the-abyss]

very seriously considering suggesting doing a traditional folk dress/19th century clothing exhibit at the museum from january onwards if the museum board doesn't have other plans yet but also. can I realistically put together an entire exhibit in like 3 months (within which I'll be gone for two weeks to take a break in october) with accompanying promotions and book.

[bookyeom]

Hallo Leslie!! I finally had a free brain moment to look through your prompt ideas, and if you’re still open to requests, how about # 61 + 90 from the second list?

Hope your week is off to a good start!

A/N: I'm so sorry these prompts took 800 years to get written, but here we are. This one may or may not be inspired by Wait (it 100% is inspired by Wait). Enjoy!!

Please Don't Tell Me Wait

Pairing: Dino x Reader Genre: idiots to lovers, friends to lovers Rating: PG (because of the kissing ig?) Word Count: 2.3k Request Prompt: "you can tell me anything." Warnings: kissing, Lee Chan as a general warning

YN: I’ll kill you, Boo Seungkwan. I will

Boo: why? 😇

YN: What could possibly be so important that you ‘suddenly’ need to go to the mall all the way across town immediately, bring Vernon, Soonyoung and Mingyu with you, and cancel on movie night?? When Chan is already almost here?

Boo: giving you and Channie some alone time 🙂

You gape down at your phone. 

YN: you’re shameless. Evil and vile. Canceled. 

Boo: I think you misspelled thank you? 

Your next raging text is lost mid-type as your doorbell rings, and you straighten up in your seat. You have a quick internal debate with yourself about whether or not you should answer, but then you think about how sad Lee Chan would be if you didn’t open the door, and you find yourself moving without any more thought. Whipped, comes the unhelpful thought.

As soon as you open the door, you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. Your breath catches just at the sight of him, wearing his favourite grey hoodie and a smile, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone more breathtaking in your life. “Hi,” he says, and you want so badly to ignore the way everything around you feels a little bit brighter just at the sound of his voice. You are in so deep.

You let him in and he quickly makes himself at home. It isn’t the first time your friends have plotted to get the two of you alone, but it is the first time it’s been in such an intimate setting. Chan’s been over to your place so many times before, but always with one of the boys in tow. You hate how nervous you feel.

You’re nervous because you like him. When Seungkwan found out last month, pretty soon everyone within earshot knew, too. Somehow – and you thanked the stars for this – Chan didn’t seem to have a clue. 

One thing about your friend Chan: he was pretty oblivious, for the most part. You knew so many people who would kill for a chance with him, but he didn’t seem to notice or even care. He flirted with you – that much was clear. You weren’t naive. But he’d never once seemed to mean anything more than friendly banter, because that’s just who he is, so here you were. Pining unrequitedly after one of your friends, with your other friends desperately trying to push the two of you together. It was frustrating at best.

You can make it through this night. You always have fun with Chan, and talking to him is easy enough when you aren't thinking too much. You have similar taste in movies and snacks, he’s funny, he's a good listener… the list is endless. You like being around him. You can do this.

You manage to act relatively normal as the two of you get settled for the movie, even as Chan makes a joke about the guys ditching, even as you almost physically jump back when he hands you the popcorn bowl to carry into the living room, and your fingers brush. You’re fine, up until the moment you’re sitting on your couch with snacks at the ready, a semi-breathable distance between the two of you, and he decides to speak up.

“Can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything.” You answer without hesitation, because it’s true. 

“Well…” He pauses, and you meet his gaze with a raised eyebrow when he doesn’t continue. As soon as your eyes are on him and away from the TV, his lips turn upward and he says, “I think you look really pretty tonight.”

Your eyes widen, and you nearly drop the remote. You watch as the corner of his mouth lifts up even further into a smile, and you can tell he’s pleased with himself. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for a response, but you don’t have one. Your mind wants to ask it, wants desperately to just blurt out the question — is this a date? Are we on a fucking date right now? — but you refrain. 

“Chan,” is what you say instead, with a roll of your eyes as you hold out the remote for him to take. You know the effect his words have had on you is obvious with the way you’re reacting, but you can only pray that he doesn’t comment on it. “Just pick a movie.”

You would almost think he meant his words if he’d ever actually tried to take his flirtatious remarks any deeper, but he never does. It’s been months of this. It’s not that he’s mean, you know he’s not — you just think he doesn’t have a clue that you might actually like him. 

“I mean what I said.” 

You’re startled from your thoughts when Chan speaks again, and you realize that he definitely hasn’t moved to take the remote from your outstretched hand. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you, either. 

You slowly lower the remote back down to your lap. “Have you been taking lessons from Mingyu again on how to flirt?” 

You watch as he leans forward slightly, that stupid, soft, teasing smile on his mouth yet again, and he asks, “Why, are they finally starting to work on you?”

You blink, staring back at him as all thoughts swiftly leave you. Your breath catches as his eyes wander across your face, and your own gaze can’t help but find his mouth. 

“Maybe,” is what comes out before you can stop it. 

Chan seems surprised for a second too, before he rights himself again. “Well,” he says slowly, “like I said... I meant every single word.”

His fingers gently pry the remote from your hand, eyes never leaving yours. He moves closer and closer, judging your every reaction, watching for any hesitation. He finds none. You let him draw you in, your back falling against the armrest and then he’s above you, his hands braced on the couch on either side. He’s gazing down at you so intently that you think you forget how to breathe. 

“How do I know that you mean it?” Your voice is quiet, uncertain. You know that you want this, that you want him, but you’re terrified that he doesn’t mean it in the same way as you.

“I can show you,” he returns, as serious as you’ve ever seen him, and you can’t stop your gaze from falling to his mouth. He takes that as a sign. And when he leans down, nose gently brushing against yours as he waits for permission, it’s you that closes the gap first. 

You kiss him, soft and hesitant. He responds almost immediately, pushing back against your mouth, a hum coming from somewhere deep in his chest. Like he’s been waiting. The thought makes your toes curl. Your hands find his waist, pulling him down to you as far as he can go, and you can feel him laugh against your mouth before he’s kissing you again, over and over, until you can’t think or feel anything but him.

You’ve never been kissed like this. 

He breaks the kiss first, his forehead falling to yours as he catches his breath. You’re both silent for a moment as you process, and you can feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. 

“Chan,” you finally say, voice quiet, your grip on the back of his shirt tightening.

“Yeah?” He mirrors your hushed tone, pulling away so he can look at you. He sounds breathless, and it makes you feel even dizzier. 

“I…” You trail off. You squeeze your eyes shut in a feeble attempt to lessen the effect of his gaze on you like this, but it’s futile. The look on his face, the one that you’d sworn to yourself all these months meant nothing, is permanently etched into the back of your eyelids now.

He doesn’t move at all as he waits, giving you time. The heat of him so close, his entire body pressed to yours, is so intimate, so overwhelming. You can feel him everywhere, can feel every breath he takes, and you wonder if he can feel your heart ready to burst out of your chest.

“Chan,” you finally speak again, voice barely a whisper. “If you don’t…”

His eyebrows furrow; you can tell he wants to speak, but he doesn’t. 

“If you don’t mean this,” you try again, your eyes still squeezed shut. “If this isn’t serious for you, then I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”

It’s silent, and your heart slowly sinks into the couch beneath you. 

Then he’s gently pushing himself off of and away from you. The feeling of disappointment quickly claws its way up into your throat, robbing the air from your lungs along the way. You sit up too, keeping as much distance between you as possible. Your eyes stay trained on your hands in your lap — you can’t look at him for even a second.

“Y/N.”

You feel your eyes begin to water in spite of yourself. Stop, stop, stop. 

“Y/N,” he repeats, voice soft, “I need you to look at me.”

You take a deep breath, feeling your lower lip quiver. You steady yourself before meeting his eyes, straightening your shoulders.

“Do you really not know how much I like you?”

You weren’t expecting that. The question hangs in the air as you blink back at him. “You—“

“I’ve liked you for so long… since that night when you were the only one who laughed at my joke at Soonyoung’s party.”

Your mouth falls open as you think back to that night — you know the very one. The same night that you finally learned his name — the name of the cute new guy your friends had been bringing around. That was ages ago.

“Oh.”

A few more beats of silence pass by until he speaks again.

“How could you possibly think I’m not into you? I don’t think I’ve ever been more obvious about something in my life.” He laughs nervously, running a hand through his hair. 

Your heart is beating triple time as you search for your words. “We’ve known each other for six months, and you never said anything.”

“Neither did you.” He raises his eyebrows in a challenge, daring you to disagree with him, but the smile on his lips gives him away.

“You have so many friends,” you say quietly after a moment, and you watch as Chan’s face softens. “I just assumed you treated them the same way you treat me.”

“I don’t,” he says softly, “but I can see why you might have thought that.”

“So many people flirt with you. All the time.” You don’t know why you’re continuing to state these things — you blame it on the fact that you absolutely cannot process that he just told you he likes you — but Chan just takes your words as they come. 

“I barely notice… especially when you’re there.” He bites his lip, tilting his head as he looks at you. “And people flirt with you too, you know.”

You let out a laugh at that, looking down at your hands. “I know.”

“But you didn’t know that I was flirting with you?” Chan asks incredulously, throwing his head back with a groan. You can tell he’s joking, and you can’t help the smile that passes over your lips now, too. 

“I did know,” you offer, and Chan sits up straight to look at you again. You continue before he can protest. “But I didn’t know if it was serious for you. And for me…” You stop yourself before you admit what you were about to, feeling your cheeks flush. 

For me, it’s serious.

“For you?” He prompts you to go on, and you can tell he’s trying desperately to hold back a grin, because he knows exactly what you were going to say. You let out a whine. 

“Stop.” 

He laughs. Then your heart leaps into your throat once more, because he’s reaching across the distance between you, finding your hand and pulling it back into his lap. “I’ll say it loud and clear so there are no misunderstandings,” he begins, thumb tracing lazy lines on the back of your hand, “I like you… seriously.” 

You know he’s teasing you again, but you can’t find it in you to care when you know he’s being honest. Your eyes fall to your entwined hands, mesmerized by his gentle movements against your skin, your heart near ready to jump out of your chest at the softness of it all.

“So…”

You look back up to find him bashful as he speaks, and it’s his turn to avoid your eyes as he chews on his lower lip. You suddenly realize what you think he’s waiting for, and you smile. 

“I like you a lot too,” you say, and when his gaze snaps to yours, you know you’ve said what he needed to hear. He smiles then, cheeks flushed and happy, and you’re enthralled by how shy he’s being when he had just been kissing you into oblivion moments prior. 

“Good.”

You beam at him, and he beams back, before he’s pulling you closer by your joined hands and into a hug. You curl up into his side, your head finding a place in the crook of his neck. 

“Y/N?” You glance up, heart stuttering a bit at the sight of him so close as you wait for him to continue. “For the record, in case you were still worried – I absolutely do not spend time with anyone else trying to ignore the way their lips move when they talk. That’s Y/N privilege.”

“Not even Soonyoung?” 

He’s kissing you almost before you get the teasing words out.

A/N: please please please reblog if you liked! it's what us writers rely on :)

TAGLIST: @dejavernon @minisugakoobies @starsstuddedsky @hopeinthebox @tae-bebe @eoieopda @savventeen @wqnwoos

Message me if you want to be added to the permanent taglist!

[fatuismooches]

So I saw you were chill with asks and stuff so I hope your okay with me just tossing all of my soft stupid dottore thoughts on you. But just you can't convince me he has a complete grasp of relationships like because of the Akademiya and the Fatui he's used to transactional relationships so he's not used to people just 🌟doing things🌟 for him because they like him and want to so he's just enamored but also confused with you when you go slightly out of your way for him

YESSSS I COMPLETELY AGREE!

As a student in the Akademiya, Zandik was used to being generally disliked, but, he was also used to the few people who would come up to him and attempt to work with him, claiming that they admired his genius. Which wasn't a lie, though they forgot to mention the part where they would try to steal his work. It would bring far too much attention to him if he took any drastic measures against these fake scholars, so he merely... scared them away, which was relatively easy. Zandik had virtually no relationships, and the ones he did were simply transactional regarding... perhaps it's better not to say.

So when you approach him to be your partner, he already knows there's only one possible way that this can go - he'll never see you again by the time he's done with you. He always manipulates people and has no remorse for doing so. Yet despite his numerous attempts, he hears a knock on his door every day from you. He's not sure if you're playing dumb on purpose or if you actually are dumb enough to not see that he's attempting to get rid of you.

Though, Dottore starts to notice that he's checking the time frequently to see if you'll knock at the time you usually do. He begins to notice when you get him coffee refills and state that you figured it'll be a long night. When someone name-called him and you almost assaulted the guy with a textbook. When you stick around despite his vehement denials of your presence, which grow weaker with every passing day.

What really hit the nail on the head was the time he offhandedly mentioned his interest in certain parts that were on sale, though they were too expensive for him right now. You looked at him thoughtfully, and the next day he did not hear the knock-knock he secretly longed to hear, which disappointed him almost disgustingly so. He wondered if he finally scared you off, which was his intent in the first place. After all, the only relationships he had room for were purely transactional ones. Any others were a scam anyway. So why did he feel like this? Yet the next day, bright and early, you banged down his door, and he was about to snap at whoever it was until you tiredly dumped a bunch of random parts into his arms, some clanging to the floor. You breezed past him and collapsed onto his bed, claiming that you did dozens of commissions yesterday and brought the stuff for him. And you were going to take a nap now, you finished.

Zandik did not know how to respond, though his agape mouth would have said it all if his mask didn't cover it. You? Did all of that work? For him? He simply could not believe it. Surely, positively, there was an ulterior motive. For the next week, he dug into you, questions and all, trying to identify something. Yet he came up empty-handed. For once in his life, he came to the fact that you did not consider this a transactional relationship. You just wanted to be with him.

Dottore was a mixture of enamored, confused, and how to go from there. He is truly baffled by this habit of yours, yet he can't help but be a bit fascinated, for how naive do you have to be to do this? Haven't you heard the rumors? Don't you know he's a monster? Yet he gets irrationally bothered when you treat others the same way. You're not supposed to do that. (He starts to drag you away before anyone tries to ask you for a favor. Only he should be able to have you. And he doesn't intend to let you go.)

[youremyheaven]

Hi, I’m the anon who asked how to impress a Saturnian guy. Firstly, I want to emphasise when I asked, I said how to “IMPRESS”, not seduce. It wasn’t my intention to seduce and sleep with him. I’m new to dating and still relatively young, so it was my second time having sex. I’m studying in a foreign country, and I don’t know how things are going here. I thought it was okay to have sex on the first date. Also, I was pretty drunk and already said in the question I would only have sex if we were going to see each other, but you guys are right; I was naive and stupid. I already feel ashamed of the way I got treated, and reading about you guys who called me like this made me even more upset. I’m sorry for sending that question, and I hope this conversation ends now. I’m everything you guys said and hope you guys have a great day after talking shit like this. I just wanted to impress him, not to seduce him.

babygirllll, it was only one anon who was unnecessarily harsh about you. everybody else spoke more neutrally, including myself. i understand being young and inexperienced and not knowing how the dating game works. men can be very two faced and opportunistic. they will say anything to get in your pants. you were too innocent to have known better.

i am really sorry for what you experienced with that asshole guy and you did not deserve that. I did not like the other anon's tone where she made Saturn men sound like superior gods who don't accept "easy" rewards and lack of boundaries or whatever. But in general, something we must all learn is that when women have sex, its 20x more complicated for us because of deep rooted societal misogyny. therefore we have to be more careful and really evaluate the men we choose to be intimate with.

i am sooo sorry you feel bad because of these conversations. please know that its not personally directed at you, your case was used as a launchpad for other conversations about men, women, boundaries and sex. I apologize on behalf of that Saturnian anon. Please don't hurt yourself and if you ever want to talk, I'll be here.

I should have been more careful with the kind of asks I replied to and I am sorry that I let things head in that direction at your expense.

You are not the one at fault here with that guy and I hope you know that. You were innocent and trusting and that's your only fault. I think everybody overlooked the fact that you're perhaps very young and inexperienced and judged you too harshly.

[anxietywriter]

What are you gonna do?

Cry about it. Scream. Yell rage kill.

For all the characters that have been forced to remain quiet about their trauma, abuse, injustices. For all the characters that you want to see go feral. To hit their breaking point. I don't want them to be impassive, I don't want them to be constantly genial. Fuck a bitch up.

ok, i've tagged it but MASSIVE, MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING for ABUSE! keep on scrolling if you don't want to read that kind of content. read safely!

A character getting yelled at, for one thing or another, finally screaming back. Being reprimanded and told not to talk back, how dare they be so disrespectful, how dare they yell. And just finally screaming that they don't care anymore. That they have tried so hard. That they hate what they've become trying to gain approval and love.

A character being told that they HAVE to love a family member. That they cannot, under any circumstances, bad mouth or say that they don't love that family member. That they have to buy gifts and appease and pretend to like that family member. And just them looking into that person's eyes and asking why. Because that person knows the abuse they suffer. Yet, they demand, and in some small part, condone, for the continued abuse. because why pretend?

Biting their tongue until they can't anymore and quietly muttering, when asked to repeat what they said, their voice practically booms. Why should they excuse someone else's shitty actions, their addictions, their abuse? Oh but they're sick, the people plead and croon at them like a child, they're not well mentally. I want them to snap and bare their teeth, SO AM I. I want them to so coldy ask if the mental illness that they've developed from their trauma excuses them for the same things. If they're a so-called exception. I want them to break down because why, why should they suffer? Why can't they SEE that what's been done, what's happened to them, it's unforgivable?

a calm, friendly character desperately yelling their friend's name. Cradling their friend in their arms, shaking them. When they feel hands trying to pull them away, they resist, struggling to stay with their friend. They scream for everyone to stop, to stay back, to give their friend breathing room. Their head is bowed, and all anyone can hear is their watery voice quietly begging their friend to wake up. Their friend's chest remained still.

hearing someone say something unsavory about one of the members in their group and just. ripping into the person. it's relatively uncharacteristic, they tend to be relatively radical and a little unhinged sure, but no one's ever had to hold them back from mauling someone. from savagely beating someone. they seemed to see only red, any sense of dignity or fair play abandoned as they pulled hair, bit, scratched. they were like a demon possessed.

someone young, innocent looking, one that most would consider cute or naive. i want them to feel a frisson of annoyance, whenever someone mindlessly comments that they're cute and innocent. that they're privileged. that they've probably never had to work. and after countless comments on how easy they must have had it, how they don't know true suffering. i want them to cry and raise their voice to say that their childhood was spent in poverty. that they had to suck it up when their aunt died because exams were that week. that they had to keep quiet while their dad was abusing the family, just to keep the image of a happy little family in tact.

a very passive, gentle, happy character that looks a little out there. that wears leather jackets with studs, denim jackets with aggressive patches, ripped jeans, wild hair, and an assortment of rings. they can definitely show dislike and pettiness for some people, but they're always courteous, polite, if a bit cold. they're relaxed, very open with their friends and playful. so it's a surprise for everyone when they all visit the character's home and the character... they're in more generic clothing, it's so strange. they're very tense, almost meek. they twitch and flinch constantly.

[multitrackdrifting]

a theme that i was struggling to write for my video (yet to be published) is challenging the idea that cynicism and despair is the natural outcome of self-awareness and being educated about the world around you

i think it's far too easy to say that people who are relatively happy and hopeful for the future are just naive, i don't want to have people say that the art i make (or try to make) is the byproduct of pain and suffering, a lot of what i say or write in my videos is relatively optimistic even if i'm critical of something i still try to be fair

i believe that tomorrow will be good, whether that means in a day or in a decade. i read the news every day, i know how much debts i have, i know that inflation and all this other bad shit is happening all the time but i don't think it's wrong to still find tiny ways to appreciate the world even if it's truly beyond reproach because i want to believe that i can still love and be kind to others even if the worlds problems dont cease in my lifetime

i guess the underlying idea i want to communicate properly is that the hopes and optimism of children isn't because they don't know the cruelty of the world yet - it's that their imagination is still able to soar and that's not a lack of intelligence or knowledge - that's a feat we should fight to protect in ourselves. it's not something you lose, it's something you have to fight to remember - that is the kind of truth i choose to believe in.

[heyitsjooooanne]

To everyone who is fortunate enough to have a loving, and SAFE father/father figure in their life, Happy Father's Day to you. For others, it's not so easy. I am a young woman who is automatically wary of men. I mean, I'm wary of everyone because of my social anxiety, but with men, it's higher up the scale. But it makes sense with how I grew up. 

Think about it.

A shy, anxious young girl grows up around an adult male who made her feel unsafe because of his own mental health issues and propensity to violence (his first instinct was to grab a belt, or manipulate/threaten to get his way), and then when she gets to school, she feels like she has to "earn" the right to talk to a boy by being “pretty” even though the boys aren't all that attractive themselves.

On top of all that, she has to either stay single her whole life, or risk being subconsciously attracted to a toxic guy who is secretly like that male relative, and not realizing the truth until it's too late. Alternatively, she could be aware of what NOT to look for in a guy, and like a guy who seems kind, genuine, and secure, only to realize that he has no empathy for her and assumes she must've done something wrong if she doesn't talk to that male relative. So he's a covert toxic guy. And then she'll have to endure "BUT HE'S YOUR [RELATIVE]!" and a bunch of other stupid invalidations. Even worse, he’ll convince her to interact with that unsafe relative all in the name of “family.” Childhood sexual abuse growing up? Hit you with his belt to discipline you? Called you “worthless” and “fat”? Threatened to leave so he could find a better family because he didn’t like how you were acting? 

Meh, it’s in the past, and they’re still your relative. 

So in her mind, it's better to be single than to take the risk over and over again.

(Note: I didn’t go through c.s.a. growing up, but I wanted to show how toxic it is to force someone to interact with a person who makes them feel unsafe overall.)

People love to blame the child when they act out, or the now traumatized adult who doesn't trust anyone.

But the blame never falls on the parents/caregivers.

"You don't talk to your [relative/relatives]? Wow, red flag. So toxic."

vs.

"You don't talk to your [relative/relatives]? What happened? Oh... I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve to grow up like that."

It's an awful situation to be in because we didn't ask for it.

No one ever asks to be born.

And even if we did, I'm sure a lot of us would pick secure and loving caregivers over unsafe ones who control, manipulate, and threaten violence when we're young and powerless.

It's incredibly naive to think everyone should thank their parents for giving them life, regardless of whether or not that child lives with those same biological parents. So you're gonna tell that poor foster kid who's bounced around from home to home (and abused in some of them) that they should be grateful to be alive even though they're lost and alone? What about the kid who comes home everyday to alcoholic and violent parents, and has no choice but to be the "adult" and raise not only their younger siblings, but get a job when they're old enough to support their family because their parents won't act like responsible adults? Should that child be happy for existing only to be miserable?

Thankfully, I never had to deal with either of those situations growing up, but it drives me up the wall when people say this because it reeks of privilege and a lack of empathy. You might as well say "I grew up in a loving and secure home. Why didn't you?"

Yes, it's obviously the child's fault that they grew up in a toxic environment. It's not like they had no choice and were literally a child fighting for SURVIVAL, LOVE, AND APPROVAL!!!!

(gif from “Invader Zim: Enter the Florpus”)

If you think everyone should be grateful to be alive, I urge you to please take your privileged head out of the sand, and look up stories of child abuse. And not just physical, but emotional as well. There's also this thing called "Dissociative Identity Disorder" which is what happens when the child's brain perceives the trauma as so severe, it has to fragment into several personalities to deal with it. No, I don't have D.I.D., I just know that it exists.

Anyway, I still have to deal with that male relative today, but I grey rock him.

Funnily enough, the more I stand up for myself, the more he tries to silence me. That obviously says more about him than it does about me though.

Of course, I still have a lot of areas I need to work on. I get frustrated easily, I have no patience for nonsense from other people, etc.

But I guess fleas are the price you pay for growing up around unsafe people.

xx

[divinitysheart]

@talesofourworlds HURT (Asch asking Rex!) send me   ‘ HURT ‘   and my muse will tell yours about one of the worst injuries they’ve ever sustained, and how it happened…

Did Rex expect to be asked a question about the scar that lays over his heart by Asch? No, not really, but he supposes it's hard to not notice the scar and not be interested as to how it occured in the first place. Afterall, the place where the scar sits isn't exactly a place you can just recover normally from being stabbed through.

A light-hearted sigh leaves Rex's mouth, because this isn't exactly a story he just told anyone. But he feels comfortable around Asch enough to talk about it to some degree.

" I should've guessed you'd ask about it sooner or later, it's not exactly a subtle scar now is it? "

Rex places his hand over his chest, reminiscing on that fateful day he lost any chance of normalcy. Not that he'd have it any other way, for he's grateful for the bonds he has now because of that day.

" It was when I was 15, I'd been doing jobs all around to just send money home until I got a request from the now former chairman Bana. I didn't even hesitate to check it out at the time because not only was it from the chairman himself, upfront it payed 100K and once I accomplished the job I would have gotten an additional 100K. "

He remembers how excited he'd been and how he sent home 90% of it back home to his family, not even thinking to question the details of the job. He feels ashamed of the fact he was so impulsive and naive even though he know that kid that he once was couldn't have known.

" They specifically requested someone of Leftherian descent among the crew specifically, and that probably should’ve told me that something was off but it didn’t because I wasn’t really thinking.”

It’s as if he’s frustrated in his younger self for not thinking, for not realizing something was so obviously wrong at the time. But he doesn’t dwell on the frustration for long as he continues his story.

“ Once we got to the work, it was relatively easy to lift the boat up with the help of our fellow co-workers and the technology that we had at our finger tips for the job. Once it was steadily floating, we explored the boat, or rather the clients and I did. “

Rex’s hand falls down to his side and turns his gaze towards Asch’s face, as if trying to gauge if he should tell him in detail what he remembers of his death or spare him the burden of knowing that Rex had actually died that day before deciding that maybe he should just say that he died and came back just with less detail than how he told Nia how it felt.

“ After exploring the place, we came across this door with a crest on it. There was no obvious way to open it, but they told me to open. Oddly enough the crest responded to my touch and opened the door, but then there was another door that was the exact same and I opened it when I was told to. And then I ran ahead of them all. And I saw a lady adorned with red in some sort of containment with a red sword right in front of her. “

He’s slowly getting to the area of the story where he got his wound, but he will admit he’s rather worried that he’s dragging it out but he shakes the thought off as quickly as it came.

“ I don’t know what it was, but the sword drew me in, it was as if it’d been calling to me. I was shouted at not to touch it but, it’d been too late. Then before I knew it, one of my client’s swords was struck right through my heart before I had a moment to blink. He proceeded to tell me it was an act of mercy, and that at least I wouldn’t be alive to see what was to come. And the world as I knew it faded all to black.” As much as Rex doesn’t want to burden Asch more with his past, he feels he owe the explanation as to why he’s alive.

“ ..But then, I woke up in a grassy field next to an overlook of the land to see the lady standing by the overlook next to a tree. I called out to her, and from there we talked. I had no idea how I was there, nor how she was either. The conversation is a blur besides her offering me part of her life force to bring me back to life in exchange for bringing her to Elysium. “

It’s not the truth, he fully remembers every word of the conversation, but the conversation between Pyra and him was something he personally didn’t know how to explain without getting more detailed on how Pyra felt, and he feels as if it’s not his place to discuss about how Pyra felt, because he’s not Pyra.

“ So, I accepted the half of her life force, which has now been returned to her. And from that point on nothing would stop me from reaching Elysium. “

While there is more story to tell, he’s answered Asch’s question. And it’s not like Asch has asked about his journey so, he’s not going to burden him with the details of that. At least, not until Asch asked and Rex felt comfortable talking in detail about it.

“ So, yeah. That’s how I got my wound, hope my story wasn’t too confusing or too boring, I know it’s not exactly a pleasant story, but it is how I got the wound. “

His mood surprisingly doesn’t switch from serious one he had talking about the wound to a more cheery one. most would assume he just doesn’t let the past affect him. But everyone close to him knew that it affected him more than anything, it’s just that he can’t stand processing things that have happened to him. It’s why he keeps himself so busy.

[albertasunrise]

Agent Peña is badly beaten up and bloody with his face and body covered in blood and bruises with broken ribs and one punctured lung with internal bleeding during his last mission and is rushed to hospital and his nurse girlfriend keeps herself together the best she can as she helps him. A week later, he wakes up and comforts her.

Harsh Realities

Masterlist

Relationship: Javier Peña x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to list any warnings.

Notes: Well who am I to turn down an angsty request. Hope you enjoy this sweet 😘

You thought you’d known what you were getting into when you’d started to date, Javier Peña. It had been a battle to get him to just commit to you in the first place but you’d fallen for him and he for you. So in the end, your relationship developed into something you now considered solid as stone.

You’d met him after he had dragged his partner Steve Murphy into the emergency room one evening. The younger agent had managed to get himself into a pickle after too many drinks one evening. He’d managed to trip and cut his head open but after a few stitches, Javier had dragged him home. The two of you had got to talking as you’d stitched up his friend and after a few flirtatious comments and looks as you went about clearing his friend to be discharged. You gave him your number.

That had led to dinner. Which had then led to drinks.

Then finally on the fifth date, he gave you the best night of your life and the rest, as they say, is history.

So despite how at first, he’d told you how dangerous his life was and how he didn’t want you to get dragged into it. You’d chosen to stay. In reality, what happened that day was inevitable from the onset but you still hadn't been prepared.

~

Steve glanced at his rearview mirror and his heart raced when he caught sight of his partner. Barely an inch of him wasn’t painted in his own blood and his eyes rolled dangerously in their sockets.

This is not how the op should have gone. What was supposed to be an easy in-out job had turned into a blood bath and now his partner was clinging to life in the back seat of his truck.

He supposed they’d been naive to think that trying to take on a potential bolthole full of sicarios on their own was a good idea but they were desperate. They were chasing their tails each day and so when they’d received that tip… it was too good to resist.

In hindsight, they should have called for backup.

The tip had been good. What the caller had failed to mention was how many guys operated that house. They’d bolted in two groups. Steve taking one lot and Javier the other. The younger agent's lot managed to give him the slip but Peña hadn’t been that lucky.

His group had managed to sneak up on him in the end. They dragged him into an alley just off from where they had cornered him and beat him within an inch of his life.

It had taken Steve over an hour to find him and he’d choked when he saw the state his partner had been left in. He’d pleaded for Javier to stay with him as he carefully lifted the man and carried him to his truck.

Javier’s breathing became more strained as Steve edged ever closer to the hospital. His heart hammered against his chest as he started to electorate harder. Mumbling a prayer to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in to spare his friend. Peña started to gasp before Steve pulled into the front of the emergency room. He dashed out as soon as the car stopped and pulled open the door, startled to find his partner’s lips taking on a starling shade of blue.

“Shit Javi, hold on.” He pleaded as he gingerly pulled his partner into his arms and dashed through the doors.

Screaming for someone to help him.

…

The sound of someone shouting tore your attention from the paperwork in front of you. It had been a relatively slow day, all things considered, so when that voice started to echo through the ward it was all systems go.

As you started to sprint towards the shouting a cold feeling washed over you. You knew that voice, you were sure of it. Your fears were confirmed the moment Steve came into view and with him, Javi’s bloodied form in his arms.

A gurney was placed in front of him just as you arrived by his side and you sobbed at the sight. Javier was bloodstained and gasping. Eyes wide as he desperately fought to take a breath but then the doctor swiftly pierced him with a large needle, removed the cap, and your lover was able to draw a shaky breath again.

“What happened?” You asked as they started to whisk him to a trauma room, your hand holding his as his head lolled limply from side to side.

“He was badly beaten.” Was all Steve could say as the adrenaline wore off and his emotions started to get the better of him “It was my fault.” He sobbed “I convinced him that we should check out the tip and now he…”

“We will do all we can.” Stated the doctor as looked up at Steve “He needs surgery so you must wait.” He stated, pointing at Steve before he then looked at you “You’re too close to this. Wait with him!” He ordered and you could only nod limply.

You knew there was no way you’d be able to focus until you knew he was okay. So, you took Steve’s hand, led him to the waiting room and you did just that… You waited. Connie arrived a little while later and she held you as you silently sobbed. You knew that if he pulled through the surgery, you’d need to be strong for him. He was going to need all the help he could get.

Two hours later the surgeon arrived. You all looked up at him expectantly as he came to a stop across from the three of you. A tense silence settled over the room before he finally opened his mouth to speak.

“He pulled through.” Was his first statement and you all breathed a sigh of relief “He’s suffered extensive internal bleeding but we managed to get it under control. He also sustained several broken ribs, one puncturing his lung.” You gasped at the list of injuries as the doctor spoke “His head injuries are what we’re most concerned about. There are early signs of swelling so we are monitoring him closely.”

“When can we see him?” Steve asked as he nervously rubbed his palms on his jeans.

“Soon. When he’s moved from recovery I will get someone to fetch you.” You all nodded before watching the doctor leave.

“He’s going to be okay.” Said Steve to no one in particular and all you could do was nod.

Praying he was right.

~

You swallowed back a sob when you entered his room. He was a state. Black and blue with his left eye swollen shut and his skin littered with cuts and gashes. Some stitched shut. Others left to heal on their own.

“Oh, Javi.” You sobbed as you stopped at his side, taking his hand carefully in yours and placing a soft kiss on his knuckles.

“I’ve spoken to his doctor and he’s happy for you to be his nurse.” Stated Steve as he and Connie stepped into the room.

“How did you manage to convince them?” You asked as you looked up at the blonde agent.

"He's a DEA agent." He stated simply "We have a price on our heads which makes us vulnerable in situations like this." He continued and you felt sick at his statement "You are a trusted medical professional and he needs care. We know he'll be in safe hands with you and Connie."

"Connie?" You asked and she nodded.

"They've asked me to assist you." She replied simply "I can only do my regular shifts because of Olivia but I will help all I can."

You nodded, giving her a small smile before your eyes noted the bed set up in the corner.

"We assumed you'd want to stay with him." Stated Steve when his eyes followed yours and you gave him a slightly wider smile.

"Thank you, Steve." You said sweetly, your eyes then drifting to your love who lay there beside you.

"We'll give you some time." Said Connie as she took Steve's hand and motioned for him to follow her out the room with her head. Throwing you one last smile before they slipped out of view.

You took a moment to gather yourself before looking at Javier again. It didn't get easier this time as you allowed your eyes to settle on him again. The tube beneath his nose stood out in stark contrast to the bruises on his skin. You allowed yourself to let out one choked sob before you started to busy yourself with tasks, desperately needing to keep yourself distracted from the reality of your situation.

In the days that follow you went about your duties as you would any other patient. Only he wasn't any other patient. You amazed yourself at how you managed to keep yourself together each day that passed. You had to be level headed. Just because he was your boyfriend, didn't mean you could allow yourself to succumb to your emotions.

When you reached day four however your strength started to wane. The doctors had told you that he wasn't any worse and that you should have faith. That he'd suffered a server trauma and that it takes time to recover.

He wasn't getting any worse… But he wasn't getting any better either.

"You need to stop this now baby." You pleaded as you sat beside him and clutched his hand like a lifeline "You're scaring me now sweetheart."

Javier didn't reply.

He didn't even flinch.

He just continued to lay there deathly still as the machines chirped around him. You swallowed past the lump in your throat as your head dropped, eyes staring at your hand that held his. Later you would bathe him, trim his beard and read some of your book to him in the hope that he would open those eyes.

Connie came to relieve you the following morning. It was the one time you got to shower, eat and drink some coffee before returning to your regularly scheduled heartbreak.

Your stomach dropped when you returned to see doctors swarming Javier as Connie pulled you to one side, her expression serious.

"What's wrong?" You asked as your eyes grew wide and she just held you.

"He's developed an infection." She said simply as she gave you a sympathetic smile.

"What do you mean?" You asked, unable to believe this was happening "He was okay. Just this morning he was fine."

"You know they can come on quick hun." She said as she pulled you to face her "This is a small setback." She stated with surety "We both know that this happens. He will be okay."

You nodded. You knew she was right. You couldn't lose your head now, you needed to keep yourself together for Javier. So after a few calming breaths, you allowed yourself to look over at your love again and noticed that the bodies around him had started to recede. After a short while, you were allowed to return to his side where you would sit vigil for the rest of the day.

You mopped his brow as he shivered and ran your hands through his hair in the hope you brought him even a modicum of comfort. He seemed to respond to your touch, leaning into it almost as his body continued to shake and you smiled sweetly at him.

"It's okay Javi." You soothed "I'm here sweetheart… You're safe."

You didn't leave that chair that night. You barely left it the following day. You tended him as you had for the past five days but as that fifth day blended into a sixth, his fever broke.

You could have cried.

Connie stayed with you a while after that. The two of you silently pleading for Javier to just open his eyes and release you from this torment. His bruises weren't as dark as they'd been when he'd arrived almost a week ago. Connie left a little later, having to return to her own family but promising she'd return the next morning so then once again, you were alone.

You got yourself as comfortable at his side as you could in that chair. Your head resting on the bed beside his hand and allowed sleep to take you. Praying that the following day would be the day.

…

You were startled by a soft pressure on your head. You sat up abruptly, your eyes then locked with two warm brown ones and your heart soared. Javier smiled at you as he gave your hand a squeeze.

"Javi?" You practically squeaked and he nodded at you "Thank god." You sobbed as you leapt to your feet and kissed him, pulling back when he hissed in obvious discomfort "Shit, sorry."

"It's okay." He replied sweetly, hooking his hand around the back of your head and pulling you in for another kiss "It was worth it." He mumbled against your lips and you chuckled.

"I thought I was going to lose you." You sobbed, cupping his face gently as you rested your brow against his "I… I…" You trailed off. Unable to say what it was you wanted to say but Javier knew exactly what it was you wanted to tell him.

He knew because he felt it too.

"I love you Hermosa." He uttered, smiling at the wide-eyed look you then gave him.

"You do?" You squeaked and he chuckled at that.

"Yes, cariño." He replied, pecking your lips "I love you very much… And I promise you that I'm not going anywhere."

"Javi-"

"Before you say anything, I made a mistake." He assured you "We were desperate for a win and we made a poor call but when I was laying there all I could think about was how stupid I'd been." He continued, eyes flitting down to his hands a moment "I have something to live for now… Someone to live for and for a split moment I thought I would never see you again… That killed me Hermosa… It was at that moment I realised I love you and I can't imagine living out the rest of my days without you."

You choked on a sob as your nudged his nose with yours, heart fluttering at the words he'd just spoken to you.

"I love you too Javi." You replied, grinning against his lips as he pulled you in for another kiss.

"Good."

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[i-cant-sing]

hi!! can i request a platonic yandere erasermic with a student reader??

Platonic Yandere! Erasermic:

Thanks for requesting! I love yandere Erasermic so much 😤😤 👊

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Platonic Yandere! Erasermic:

The BEST platonic yandere couple to have!

You're a student at UA, part of class 1A. You're Aizawa's favourite student. You're just so polite and so sweet. Always so eager to learn and try out new things. And even the class would notice his special treatment of you. "You forgot to do your homework? Hmm, alright you can submit it to me tomorrow. Denki you forgot to bring your homework? Go run 5 laps right now."

Hizashi would often hear about you from his husband. You sounded like a good kid. But he really became interested you when you came looking for Aizawa in the staff room, but you found him instead. Hizashi started talking to you, really just rambling about the most random things. He was expecting you to just leave and go look for Aizawa, but he was pleasantly surprised when you started talking to him too, easily carrying the conversation. Your eyes would light up when you were talking to him. And since then, you would always give him your complete, undivided attention whenever you guys spoke, no matter what the topic was. You'd sometimes be rambling, and then suddenly forget what you were talking about. It was just so cute!

Gradually, these two would become obsessed with their favourite student. They'd also become very protective of you. When it was time to choose an internship, Aizawa rejected all offers from different agencies on your behalf, lying to you that you didn't get any offers. And then you'd become so sad, near tears and then Aizawa would offer to train you himself, that he sees potential in you. Of course you'd accept, you'd get to train with Eraserhead, a rare opportunity!

When you'd be training with Aizawa, he'd go easy on you, but he'd still give you great tips on how to improve yourself and control your quirk. You still haven't been able to beat him once though. Since you'd be around Aizawa a lot, you'd also meet his partner, Hizashi, often. And since you would accompany Aizawa on his late night patrols, you'd have dinner (made by Hizashi, who's more than happy to cook for you) with them at their place a lot, and it always ended up with them offering you stay the night, and you sometimes did.

Their obsession love would continue to grow the more you spent time with them. And then one night, the couple would be discussing about expanding their family, and then they both knew it, right then and there. Its you. You'd be the perfect addition to their family, the perfect child! You're so kind, soft spoken. Outgoing yet shy and reserved when meeting new people. But you're just so naive, too innocent for your own good. And they've both seen the ugliness of the world, the worst in the people. They cannot afford to just stand by idly and risk you getting tainted by this filth.

It was decided that night that you had to become a part of their family. They'll make your parents disappear, they have both the money and the skills to do it. Maybe they'll say that your family was taken or killed by some villians, or better yet, they were caught doing something illegal. But don't worry, you can stay with them for as long as you want. When you try to refuse, that you can stay with a relative, they'll tell you that it's for your own safety. They don't want the villians to complete their unfinished business. Plus, they are more than capable of taking care you, and since you didn't want to risk another family member's life, you agreed.

You'll be having the best time of your life. They'll spoil the hell out of you, Hizashi especially. Aizawa does too, but he's just more protective of you.

Hizashi is a great cook! He'd learn to make your favourite dish too. And if you like something from a restaurant, he'll take it as a challenge and try to replicate the dish, or make a better one! At school, all 3 of you would sometimes have lunch together, you always bringing Aizawa's lunchbox along too, since he often forgets it. If you try to cook a dish for them, they'll treat it like its a Michelin star dish!

Aizawa would be the more protective one, always the harder one to convince to let you go out with your friends, especially at night. Hizashi would always convince him in the end, they're gonna follow you anyways so why stop you? Aizawa's a bit possessive too. He doesn't like it when you talk about other pro heroes, you're his little girl, you should be looking upto him. He won't say anything about it though.

Hizashi would love to just talk to you; you guys would often gossip. Oh and you always go to him for any fashion advice. Since he also has long hair that he styles up a lot, he can do your hair too! Just show him a picture of what you want, and he'll style hair exactly like it. Aizawa likes to do your hair too sometimes, but he only knows how to put it in a simple braid.

They're will be a lot fun activities for you to do with them. You can be having karaoke nights with Hizashi, Aizawa watching you guys with just pure adoration in hie eyes. You can play video games with Aizawa, which he is scary good at, especially at Among us. Family game nights are a must!

If you have any other hobbies or passions, you'll have 2 dads, cheering for you. They'll get you the best supplies available. If you win an award, any award, no matter how small, they'll tell you how proud they are and put your achievements either on the fridge or somewhere where everyone can see it.

Of the two, Aizawa would be the to quickly pick up on your mood. He knows when you're lying, when you're sad, or when you've just had a bad day at school. Hizashi would notice too, but it would be Aizawa who would know if you needed some space or if you needed to talk it out; they've always it clear to you that the latter option is always open.

Once they find out whats the reason you're feeling so down, they'll comfort you. You guys would often cuddle on the sofa as a funny movie played on the TV. Once you've gone to bed, they go and eliminate the cause of distress. Oh did you fail a test? Its okay, they'll tutor you personally. Oh did your favourite character die? Cry it out sweetie and let's go buy some of the character's merchandise . Oh did someone confess their feelings to you and you don't know what to do? Don't worry, he's taken care of.

Dating isn't an option. They'll be quick to reject him/her, listing reasons to you exactly why they're not good for you. Of course, nobody deserves their baby. But if you do go against their wishes, and still get an s/o in secret, they'll find about it. If they're thinking about how to separate you guys, and you walk in all heartbroken because your s/o broke up with you, with no persuasion from the couple; on the inside they'll be both glad and mad. Hizashi will be comforting you, cooing sweet nothings in your ear, while Aizawa would be standing with a "I warned you" look on his face at first but then he sees your red, teary face, your lips wobbling, your eyes full of pools of tears, and immediately his stern exterior would melt and he'll gather you in his arms and let you cry into his chest, while his mind will go to "MURDER". You're their sweet girl, their precious little baby. How dare someone play with your feelings like that. Your ex better sleep with one eye open.

If you do somehow find about what really happened to your parents, and you try to run away from them, not only will they have you back in their arms within the hour, they'll take you somewhere countryside. Its always been noisy in the city anyway. They'll try to explain to you, that they really just did all of this to protect you and that it should show how much they love you and care about you. No physical punishment will ever meet you. No, they can't bear the thought of hurting you! They'll use manipulation to control you, and they are master manipulators. They do so much for you, aren't they enough?

Just be happy they still allow you to roam around the countryside, and not had you locked up in your room. School would be off the table for a while, as will any connection to your friends. Its about time they all had a family vacation anyway.

I'd let Erasermic adopt me in a heartbeat, ngl. 👊 Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this! Requests are OPEN. :)

[cinnamonest]

Yandere Profile -- Eijiro Kirishima

Ahhh I finally finished this one! I love my loud red boy bless him

For @shorkbrian !!

Tws:  Fem reader, yandere, delusional mindsets, kidnapping, manipulation, stalking, mentions of death, normal yandere content, mentions of a high school setting

Tws (below cut): Noncon, throatfucking, pain content

This is also the first time I'm including my new severity scale (which I just made a post about before this one) in a profile!

================

Severity Scale

Intelligence/Perceptiveness: 6 Brutality: 5 Physical capability: 9 Mental/emotional instability: 6 Restrictiveness: 5 Sexual sadism: 6 Stubbornness: 8

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

He's actually not one of the yanderes that stalks from a distance - he's not so nervous that he can't approach you, no, he's comfortable enough to talk to you in person. Being away from you physically is almost painful, he wants to spend as much time with you as possible. He's also one you might catch onto a little bit, because he's just on the border of being a little lacking in self awareness to the point that he doesn't always realize when he's smothering you. Of course, it aligns well enough with his general personality that you won't think too much of it, just that he can be a little overbearing or clingy.

That being said, he does do his fair share of information collecting when you're not together. Boy is a master at data collection - he'll find socials you forgot you had, posts you made years ago, every major information collection site there is, he'll use to find everything he can about you. Your socials, your friends' socials, your relatives' socials. Even if you have one of those apps that lets you see who's stalking you on your social media, he's already planned ahead for that, and uses a variety of burner accounts so you never notice a thing.

Especially in later stages, as his mental stability is slowly worn down, he's prone to the classic yandere persona flip. Can go from his usual very energetic, spirited, happy go lucky sort of demeanor and, in very shocking and unexpected moments, become highly aggressive towards others, or even snap at you with an uncharacteristic coldness. However, he's aware enough to know he's doing it, and quickly backpedals once he does, apologizing and telling you he's just having a really bad day. Only these "bad days" seem to pile up quite a bit as time goes on.

Similarly, he becomes more delusional with time. At first he might actually be fairly receptive towards your friends, even male ones, and while his behaviors and stalking is present, it's not over-the-top just yet. It will take a few months but gradually he finds himself slipping into an increasing pattern -- just one more hour sitting outside your dorm room, just one more text, one more post of yours from five years ago, just one more of this or that and soon it's completely spiraled out of his control.

He's also aware enough at first to realize you might not be too keen on, you know, essentially imprisonment. If it weren't so fucked up, it would almost be funny to watch him - rehearsing the whole speech he will have to give to darling when she wakes up to himself in the mirror, nervously pacing, not making eye contact the whole time he's explaining himself and later finishing off telling you you're here forever with a "so, uh, yeah," and a nervous little laugh. He's a bit panicked himself but will do his best to calm poor darling down, and, as he tells himself, your initial reaction will be bad, but you'll adjust.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

He's surprisingly patient and can bide his time. If you're good, he's one of a few where you may be able to prolong your freedom and evade captivity for a very long time, years even. In order to achieve this, though, you'll have to never question his very much questionable behaviors, listen to him when he says not to talk to anyone else, spending every waking moment with him, that sorta thing. So really, it only works for a very naive darling who is already paranoid of others. For most people, who will, you know, call him out on his bullshit, he'll change his mind about letting you be free pretty quickly.

This is especially true if he feels like he's losing you -- if you just get upset that's one thing, but if he senses you're starting to become wary of him or even avoid him, he'll be pushed to the edge very quickly. He's not the brightest when it comes to his methods, most likely opting for a very simple break-in during your sleep or kidnapping you on the way home sort of deal.

He was something of this "waiting period," a time some types of yanderes have where they try to be normal. These types of yanderes are most likely to start of their relationships as normal and organic and only gradually devolve, or snap, into a higher state of delusion and unhealthy behavior. He's no exception to this, and you may get a few months of a very normal relationship with only small red flags that seem to be gradually increasing. 

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape? 

To escape, only moderate difficulty, actually. To stay escaped? That's a different story.

You see, he's got a slight predator-prey thing going on and will most likely give you a window of opportunity here or there (not a lot, only when he's carefully arranged it out). Early on he has a tracking device implanted in you while you're knocked out, but never tells you about it. He'll let you get a little ways, never so far that there's any risk, and always stays within very close proximity. Watching your worried eyes as you can't shake the feeling of something watching you, knowing you're questioning your own sanity in your state of paranoia. It's really cute, watching you dart your head back and forth into the shadows, every which way except for the actual place he's standing. Will wait until you inevitably run into seclusion, when you take that turn onto a corner with no eyewitnesses, when you duck into a business closed for the night for cover, and he'll have a hand around your mouth before you can even make a noise.

He knows he should be mad, but he gets off to it so much it's hard to be genuinely angry rather than just... Roughly exerting the pent up energy into you. Which in and of itself is something of a punishment.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

It's a mix of "more intelligent than he lets on," and "still kinda on the dull side." In particular, he's not very good at telling when someone is lying. It's honestly a coin toss every time you try, which actually makes it more difficult, really. You'll be just hopeful enough that maybe you can deceive him on this one thing, but there's a 50-50 chance it won't work. Unlike a super intelligent yandere who you automatically know better than to try, you'll keep getting your hopes up and trying with him, which ultimately results in more punishments when it fails.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He's moderate on allowances, but still restrictive on contact. As in, he'll get you the things you want, especially once he's making tons of money as a pro. Lets you have a highly controlled phone, complete with internet, but given a lock to prevent commenting or sending or uploading of any kind (aside from messages to him, of course). He doesn't really care too much about the media you consume or whatnot, but if he decides he doesn't like something specifically -- say, youtube videos on lockpicking -- then he'll probably take it away for a time until he can figure out how to better control it.

He's one to let you roam his place to an extent, once again it's a case-by-case basis of "you have this privilege until you do something to lose it." You can cook and access the kitchen until an incident of you hurting yourself or attacking him. You can watch tv and roam around until you break something intentionally out of spite. That sort of thing -- he deals with the problems when they arise, but is generally fairly lenient on your allowances, so really it's very unwise to take that privilege for granted, since it's a lot more than what a lot of yans would allow.

When you're really really good, he'll definitely let you go out with him. As we'll discuss, he likes to emulate normalcy, and really likes the fun kind of dates - theme parks and movies and the like. It'll be quite a while before you get to this stage though, as he has to feel 100% confident you won't try anything at all. Of course, if you do try anything, the privilege will be lost until you earn it back. However, this will also be entirely undercover on his end, probably wearing masks and sunglasses or the like. He doesn't want people to see you with him and recognize him, like a lot of the mha yans, he fears the potential of someone using you against him.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Once again a "make them up as you go" guy. Listen, he didn't plan much beyond the initial kidnapping you and security, so there's a lot he hasn't thought about. From day one, what's made clear is you're not to leave and that you need to accept the way things are as soon as possible, and you know, be a doll and be sweet for him. As time goes on things get added -- don't look up this or that, don't attack or resist, don't backtalk him, don't give him the cold shoulder, etc etc. Over time it will amount to a lot, actually, you see, he's got a very specific image of how you should behave in his mind. Anything that deviates from that will quickly become a rule. So it's kind of like a puzzle for poor darling, you're not given an exact image of what you're supposed to act like or what you're not allowed to do, you just gradually find out with trial and error and an ever-growing behavioral rule list what is and isn't acceptable

.He can't stand isolation punishments, can't take being away from you for that long. He might try at first, but, almost comically, he cracks very early and brings you back out (just went you thought you were gonna get a break from him). It's primarily, (in our sfw section) a matter of losing privileges. To him, he knows that one of the worst punishments is boredom, so he'll take away your things that occupy you and leave you with nothing, potentially restraining you to a single room, so that you eventually cave and apologize.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

He uses social methods or underhanded, subtle tricks to eliminate people rather than killing them. Frames them for stealing, or some other misdeed to get them expelled, ruins their social reputation, fakes messages to make you hate them, maybe even to make them hate you. that's during the school-age stages of things. Now, an older hero Kirishima, definitely uses his status to get things done the way he wants. Come on, who in their right mind would try to take the girl of a pro hero to begin with? They were asking for it. He has a few similar methods -- ruins their public image, frames them for a crime, or, if they're persistent enough, may very well just use a couple connections to make sure they disappear -- potentially disappear entirely, or perhaps get permanently hospitalized from a bad accident, become the random victim of some villains, etc.

That being said, during the pre-kidnapping stages, he's definitely gonna start fights with other dudes for looking at you the wrong way. Even if it's horrifically embarrassing, he thinks of it as a show of manliness. You'll eventually have to pull him off and calm him down before he pummels the poor victim of choice completely. Over time, this earns him a reputation for being insanely protective, and it makes people start to avoid both him and you, which is all the better in his mind.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

With most things, he's pretty slow to anger, tries to be very patient and understanding. You have to wittle down that patience with repeated and deliberate disobedience to get a snap out of him - which is highly possible, considering poor darling initially is given no bad reaction. You'll think he's a pushover since he doesn't get super mad the first time, or the second or third, so when he finally does snap it's pretty frightening - it's all the irritation bottled up and released at once.

He tries hard to project the image of who he's known to be - a chill, good natured, optimistic guy, which is why he manages to be so patient. He doesn't want that image ruined for you, and he's very very particular about, and worries about, the image of him in your mind. He has a deep need for you to see him as a heroic figure, to look up to him, and to see him as above you, so he doesn't want to ruin that with violence and anger.

It's usually a literal snap of some sort - whatever he's holding gets slammed down on the table, or crushed or snapped in half (say, a glass or pen). His voice gets low, and builds up into a snarl. Definitely one to grab you by the hair. Drags you to wherever he deems a suitable place to take care of your issues.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

He doesn't think about these things too much, and really, he's somewhat in the middle or can even fluctuate. A lot of it depends on you. If you're good and obedient, he treats you like you're an angel, says he doesn't deserve you. Now, if you're not being so good, he might sometimes let the frustrations slip out into some bitterness, likewise muttering that you should be a bit more grateful that someone like him loves you so much.

That being said, he does want you to see him as above you, wants you to look up to him and, simply, he wants you to think he's amazing and heroic! He goes out of his way to repeatedly impress you with displays of strength and the like, and, like a lot of the hero yanderes, will frequently subject you to watching the news of him saving people. He exaggerates his heroics significantly and makes sure you know just how many people he saved, and of course, he makes sure to show you every girl that blows up his phone after finding his number somehow, all the adoring females fans, and so on, in a very blatant attempt to make you jealous -- having all those fans does get his ego going a bit.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Definitely strongly determined. He wants not only your acceptance, but also to somewhat normalize the relationship. He emulates a lot of normal behaviors like aforementioned dates, but also things like "date night" at home (cuddles on the couch and watching TV, playing games, takeout etc), little good morning texts for you to wake up to when he has to leave early, making food together. It's so tender and sweet that sometimes you could almost forget that you're being trapped against your will. It also, of course, is very beneficial for his imperatives, considering that that sweetness will only help you adjust more quickly.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Probably the previously noted extent to which he strives towards a very butchered resemblance of normalcy. It's like he wants to just be a normal couple... but he doesn't, he can't. I'd say that even he himself kind of struggles with it a bit -- psychologically, he's one of the yanderes that deludes himself because he has to. It doesn't come super naturally, it's that, being forced to recognize how unhealthy and harmful his extreme controlling and possessiveness is, to come to terms with the fact that those urges aren't normal... the guilt would eat him alive if he actually stopped to think about that, if he actually allowed himself to admit that reality to himself. So, he doesn't. He will push that thought away, even though it does exist somewhere deep down, until the day he dies. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't delude himself into believing it's all necessary, and that he's good to you. A lot of his more lenient tendencies stem from this.

It's a conflict between parts of his brain -- a duality of sorts. One part says he wants the normalcy -- he wants dates and love and sex and fun and he wants it all organically, he doesn't want to be a kidnapper, doesn't want to have to do these things. But as much as he wishes he didn't have to, the other part of him does, in fact, say that he has to do these things. Yanderes that have these sorts of internal conflicts due to a strong sense of morality (which he DOES have, really) tend to have a "waiting period," as he does, which I mentioned above -- a time where they try to go about things normally but find themselves unable to.

As a result, I'd say he's one of the yanderes that's actually very likely to start off as an actual boyfriend, rather than a stranger or a friend. He's confident enough to ask you out and charming enough to get a yes, but he just can't control himself over time.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Like some of my other yans I've discussed, he has what you call reactive sexuality. On his own, he's average for a young man, but once he has someone he really has a lot of affection for, that drive goes up significantly in their presence. There's a lot more stimulation, after all, it gets those hormones raging and the urge to fuck goes way up pretty quickly now that there's an availability.

He's moderate-to-heavy on the perversion for what you'd expect from a guy like himself. He's far from pure but he knows exactly how to teeter the line of being just gross enough to make you squirm and blush without being such a horndog that he actually offends you or drives you away. Not that he won't push that line as far as he can, constantly testing your boundaries.

As for touchiness, oof he's VERY touchy. Poor darling. It, like many things, increases with time in the pre-kidnapping stage -- even from the get go he's prone to slinging an arm over your shoulder or leaning on you, but that progresses into gradual soft gropes that you almost feel like you imagined, and extended touches, hands gripping your shoulders, etc. Post-kidnapping, very touchy all the time. Very much a cuddler and likes to grab at everything he can when he does so.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

It's eh, moderate, but ultimately, as in yandere nature, force will be used if necessary. He's so sweet about it at first that it almost doesn't even feel like it. He tells himself you're afraid, and any lashing out is just because of that. Even if you say he's the problem, he thinks that's just because you're embarrassed to admit you're scared. Everything you can come up with, he'll loop back to that rationalization. It helps him get over any potential guilt he'd otherwise have, which he certainly would if he didn't lie to himself.

He's so sweet about the whole thing its nauseating for poor darling. Wiping away any tears on your face, taking a long long time to prepare you up with fingers and touches and words, and telling you it'll be ok, that it only hurts for a second, that he'll make you feel so good, that you'll be happy this happened just as much as he is.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Oral fixation

This boy just... saying he wants you to blow him is understating it. He wants to throatfuck you -- grab you by the hair and use your face like a toy. In the beginning he'll be gentler, but he fantasizes about reaching a point at which he can really just go at it, train your gag reflex to be virtually non-existent. He likes to cum down your throat, but even more he loves pulling out at the last moment and telling you to hold your mouth open and tongue out, jerking off onto your tongue, getting some on your face, and telling you to swallow.

Roleplay/Lingerie

Specifically, he'll get into anything service related. Maid outfits galore. He loves treating you like a doll, really, dressing you up in whatever newest lewdest thing he can find. Definitely keeps up with the newest outfit trends of the egirl type of sphere -- loves the things like thigh highs, virgin killer sweaters, garters, anything of the sort. Very much into the "cutesy" type of stuff on you, expect lots of pastel colors and soft fluffy things. Also 100% will get a tail plug and animal ears of some kind. And it's not just for looks, he likes you to act out the role, too. He's actually super-blushy about the whole idea at first, but he does like the idea of being called "Master," especially when it's all soft and embarrassed coming out of your own mouth. 

Size difference/strength difference

It ties back into the thing of wanting you to look up to him. He loves loves loves seeing the faces and the little squeals you make for him when he gives you displays of raw strength - and he'll be sure to frequently remind you of exactly how strong he is. Standing-fucking, slinging you over his shoulder when he's dragging you back home, picking you up and throwing you on the bed, grabbing you by the hips and lifting your entire body up and down when you're on top of him and using you as effortlessly as if you were a near-weightless fleshlight.

No matter which size you may be, he loves it whichever way. If you're tiny and short it gives him an automatic power rush, but if you're larger and taller he loves that too - it gives him a massive ego boost that he can pin you down and control your body with such ease, bonus points if you thought he couldn't since you're bigger than he is.

Size kink pt 2

Also a size related thing, but specifically dick. Listen I refuse to believe this man doesn't have a girthy, thick dick. And he loves the things it can do to you -- the way you gasp and shudder, even little whimpers of pain. He feels bad if there's any pain, but he can't help but get off to the squeals just a little bit, the tears in your eyes are just so cute. Definitely loves making a visible bulge on your stomach, and will make sure you see it too, holding your head in place to force you to watch your stomach bulge every time he thrusts in. Bulging your throat is equally hot, as mentioned above. And he loves the way that there's just that slightly visible gape for a few minutes after he pulls out as your body adjusts.

Threeways

Perhaps very rare for a yandere, he's one of a few that isn't 100% opposed to sharing, provided it's with special individuals, namely a certain blonde friend. Not so much in the relationship aspect, but a sexual one, and it's very well-controlled on his end, with him having the ultimate power over the whole situation. There will always be things that only HE can do to you that no one else can, of course, and it's all only with those he trusts to never spill about your existence. Still, he just really really likes seeing you get spitroasted, really. Can you blame him?

And of course, he'll make sure to get reassurance from you that you only love him and don't care about Katsuki at all, and if he ever gets even the slightest feeling that that might not be the case, it's a kink he'll give up easily if it means soothing the potential raging jealousy.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He actually really, really likes the thought of being a dad. It's sort of a pride thing, having a family he can love and support (it's not like you're gonna be allowed to work), showing you off to everyone. And of course, the emotional attachment you'll undoubtedly form, the dependency you'll have on him. 

Getting to watch cum drip out of you and never having to pull out is a nice bonus, too.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Big into overstim. It's perfect because it's a punishment that is both effective, doesn't technically hurt you, and releases all those good chemicals all at the same time. He doesn't initially want to hurt you too bad, but, if you're really bad -- either in terms of the severity of the offense or the number of times you continue to do it -- he can reach a point of anger at which he'll resort to impact-pain-based punishments, too. Ever the sweet one, he actually does research first to make sure he won't go too far and seriously injure you, but once's he's made all the right purchases, I could see him settling on riding crops, he will make you hurt.

And, really, because it all gets him off at the same time -- the strangled little cries and mewls and whimpers are so much hotter than they should  be. He likely blindfolds you the whole time, partially to increase your fear and anticipation, but also so that you don't know he's jerking off to the whole thing.

The aforementioned throatfucking is also an effective and very quick, straight-to-the-point punishment when need be. If he's super mad and doesn't have the self control to take you elsewhere he may very well just dump you on your knees and demand you open your mouth or else you'll be in for a lot more pain. If he's in that kind of borderline-sadist mood he can get cruel with it too -- cumming in your mouth but not letting you swallow, making you hold the gross taste against your tongue for several minutes, or, his favorite guilty pleasure he feels too bad making you do most of the time, slamming your face all the way down and holding his cock all the way down your throat, perfectly still. No matter how hard you try to pull back or beat on his thighs, he has an iron grip and will hold you there until you nearly pass out.

Also, hell, just fucking him can be a punishment if he wants it to be. He can manhandle you with such a brutality and strength that it's genuinely painful. You want to know what it feels like to have a, literally, rock-hard dick ramming into your cervix?

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Very much a thigh boy. Not only are they soft and pillowy, but he loves to bite and suck at the insides of your thighs and leave lots and lots of marks. They're just as much for you as they are for him. He makes sure you always wear shorts or short skirts (or nothing is fine too) to make sure said marks are always within your vision.

[uselessidiotsquad]

Character Interview: Elder Parteira

INTRODUCTION:

1. Can you introduce yourself?

- My name's Parteira, it gets the title 'Elder' stuck onto it more often than not these days. Apparently, managing to not die gets you more titles. I work with expecting mothers and their cubs. You might also hear me called 'Party'. You're only allowed to call me that if I've pulled you out of the seam of your mother.

2.  What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

- I'm single, the rest of it frankly isn't any of your business. Not looking to change that either. Do you know how much time that wastes? I got more important things to be doing than pandering to doe-eyes and flirts.

3. Where and when were you born?

- Olmakhan born and bred. The fact that 'elder' is part of list of nonsense that gets tagged onto my name should be a clue for age, cub.

4. What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

- Eh? Fighting? I mean most of my tribe isn't a huge fan of fighting but I'm not reserved about giving some flabby-mawed idiot a good walloping if they need it. I have a greatsword, but I don't use it anymore. Too hard on my shoulders. Mainly stick with swords, scepters, and things that aren't so heavy.

5. Lastly, are you happy?

- Happy? Happy!? Would you be happy if you found out the rest of your kind sees your whole way of life and field of devotion to be unnecessary? No, I'm not happy. But I'm not gonna let that stop me from doing what needs to be done.

FAMILY AND FRIENDS:

1. What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

- At this point, I've outlived most of them. Guess that means I win, hah! Brother was captured by Inquest, it ended about as well as you'd expect. Folks have long since returned to Nature.

2. Have you ever ran away from home?

- I haven't. Didn't really think there was anything else besides where I lived, when I was young. Got that rattled right out of me.

3. Would you consider marriage or having children?

- No. And I have all the children I could ever want and then some. Half the bloody village calls me Ma or Party. I've either raised or helped care for most of these mangy idiots (she says it with affection).

4. Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

- Eh? Wouldn't even bother to call them a 'friend' if I hated them, that's kinda a pointless question.

5. Which friend knows everything about you?

- That would be my nephew, he's still back at the village. My brother's kid, basically one of the few relatives I have that is still living. He's a good cub, kind and decent. Bit naive but everyone's like that when they're young.

ASKED BY FANS:

1.  Are you literate? Have you been to school?

- Most of our traditions are oral and handed down through word of mouth and story. So yes in some ways, no in the ways that you're talking about. Easy for other people to call our tribe 'primitive' when they're the ones setting the rules, isn't it?

2.  The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

- That change was coming one way or another. Other elders like to whistle and pretend to be birds with their heads in the clouds about it. Change found us, just wish we'd been more ready for it.

3. What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

- I hadn't realized that the Legion Charr still kept up those damn archaic ways of teaching and rearing cubs, until just recently. Sure, I thought maybe they were a little behind but I hadn't realized they were still in war and blood and gears mode still. Operating on 2 whole brain cells one says fight the other says fu- (she cuts herself off). Well, you get the idea.

4. Do you have mental health or physical issues?

- Shoulder's bum from carrying cubs and doing heavy lifting for a long time. Nature's been good to me otherwise.

5. What is your current main goal?

- (she slams a paw down on the table loudly and looks the speaker in the eye) To teach those empty-skulled assholes that are beating their cubs in the Fahrar that times have changed and they need to get with it or get gone. And I am gonna be the solution to that either way. Brainwashed and beat up cubs just raise more brainwashed and beat up cubs and I'm putting an end to it.

CHOICES:

1. Drink or food?

- Food. Love me some good smoked fish.

2. Cats or dogs?

- Dogs. Good for keeping alarms up.

3. Early bird or night owl?

- Early bird, whether I wanted it or not. Years of getting up at the blink of dawn because some cub is crying just sticks.

4. Optimist or pessimist?

- Realist.

5. Sassy or sarcastic?

- Sarcastic.

HAVE YOU EVER:

1.  Been caught sneaking out

- Never snuck out, saw other people do it and get caught and decided it wasn't worth it.

2.  Broke a bone

- Broke one of my toes by dropping a rock on it accidentally. Was carrying stuff to help make a new building and it slipped.

3. Received flowers

- My nephew used to bring me some when he was young, he'd go around the island and collect a bunch of things he thought were nice and bring them as a gift. Could've been anything from dandelion puffs, to pretty shells, to some feathers he found. It was cute.

4.  Ghosted someone

- What's that? (it's explained to her, she shakes her head in annoyance) That's a stupid move. If you don't like someone just say it. Waste of time.

5. Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get

- Not really. I just pretend I didn't hear it.

[therenlover]

Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk (A Young Revolutionary!Zemo x Non-Binary Reader Oneshot)

(a/n: so, in honor of barricade day, have this young revolutionary!Zemo fic, which is basically just canon Enjoltaire dynamics but with a Zemo/reader twist on it, because that dynamic is literally my whole heart. Consider this a weird twisted Les Mis au if you want to, but you don’t need to know the book or musical to enjoy this, if it can be enjoyed...) 

Synopsis: Helmut recalls the story of how he came to be the ruthless man he is and, more specifically, how he came into possession of his strange purple mask. 

Tags: Canon Compliant, Angst, Young!Zemo, Non-Binary!Reader, Death, Enemies to Friends With Benefits to Lovers????, Implied Sexual Content, Friendship, Pining, Revolution, Speedrunning A Slow Burn

Rating: M (+16) 

Warnings: Major Character Death, Implied Sexual Content, Gun Violence, Drinking, Minor Homophobia/Transphobia (it’s one sentence near the end and it’s very vague coming from Heinrich), Swearing, Survivor’s Guilt, Really Just Death Everywhere

Word Count: 10,200~

“What’s with the mask?” 

The question was innocent enough.

Sam posed it while lounging on the expensive couch of Zemo’s Riga apartment, head tilted back and eyes closed in silent contemplation. 

Bucky remained silent as Zemo glanced over from his place at the counter. Outside, the sun was long gone, giving way to a stunning moonrise over the city that poured through the stained glass windows and lit up the night with its glow. It was quiet, much quieter than things usually were between the trio. Still, things being quiet didn’t mean they weren’t tense.

Clenching his teeth, he took in a long breath through his nose. “I am unsure what you mean by that, Sam,” 

“The mask,” Sam pushed, “you know, the one you wore during the fight in Madripoor. What’s the deal with that?” 

“Ah yes. That mask,” As if on cue, Zemo took a long swig from his glass. It burned all the way down. He didn’t speak again, though, instead choosing to let his gaze fall on the elaborate tilework above his countertops, tracing the patterns with his eyes. Anything to divert himself from the thoughts that rushed back into his mind at the thought of the knit piece of cloth that sat firmly in his inner coat pocket. 

Unfortunately for him, Sam wasn’t satisfied with letting the topic fizzle out. “Come on man,” he griped, rubbing a hand over his face, “we got you out of prison, so you owe us one. In fact, you owe us a lot. So, spill. What the hell is the deal with it? Were you Sokovian batman or something?”

That urged a dry laugh from the baron’s lips as he set his crystal glass on the counter with a little more force than was necessary. “Are you always so interested in your captives’ personal lives?” 

“Usually,” Bucky chimed in dryly. 

“I suppose I’m outnumbered,” Zemo sighed. The bile rising in his throat was easy enough to force down as he turned himself out on his stool to face the room. It wasn’t the right time for true weakness, not yet, but he couldn’t deny that painting himself in a desirable light and offering the pair honesty might give him the upper hand. So, he folded. 

Slowly he retrieved the purple mask from his coat and turned it over in his hands. It still fit after all the years it had sat gathering dust in his storage unit which was a blessing in its own right. It still served its original purpose too. That mask had seen horrors beyond imagination, had been washed clean of blood more times than could be counted. Did it hold the memories of the things it had seen within its fabrics as Zemo did in his mind? Or was it as naive as he had been at the time of its creation? He let out a bitter laugh. That was a question they would have asked him. 

As he exchanged his literal mask for one entirely emotional, Zemo leaned back on his stool and managed a smile. “How educated are you on Sokovian politics?” 

Sam shut his eyes again, letting his head lol back once more. “I went to public school, so I don’t think I even knew Sokovia existed until it didn’t,” 

“I know enough,” Bucky added. From his place leaning against the way, ever vigilant and ready to jump into an imagined battle, he turned to face Zemo and crossed his arms. “Hydra had fingers in the government there, more so than other places. There was a big power struggle in the ’90s when the king died, right? Because people wanted democracy, and they didn’t want the little shithead prince to take over,”

“Yes,” Zemo nodded, “My cousin Emil. I’m glad you’re familiar,”

 A spluttered laugh escaped Sam’s lips as he shot up. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised by this stuff anymore, but damn,” 

“He and I weren’t close,” Zemo waved his hand dismissively, and yet there was a strange sadness in his eyes. It wasn’t for his cousin, though. Not in the least. “But James was correct, there were riots in the streets when the king died. They were shut down quickly by the National Guard, though, who had more than a little help from Hydra’s favorite supersoldiers once they realized just how much power the citizens held. What street were you assigned to, James?” 

Bucky sucked in his cheeks, eyes falling to the floor, but before Sam could butt in and defend him he had muttered an answer. “I cleared the barricade at 18th Avenue, the second largest. Those kids fought valiantly,” 

Zemo hummed lowly. “And so they did,” 

“Okay, what does any of this have to do with your stupid purple mask?” Sam exclaimed.

He was sitting up fully now, face turned to where Zemo had stood from his stool and begun to round the bar. His mask still sat in a small ball on the marble. It seemed to be a member of the conversation all its own, silent and sure, drawing all three men together as it weaved a story from the past into the present with its very presence. 

“That mask served me well and hid my identity when I stood against the very men that were serving my family,” Zemo muttered, letting his fingers brush the fabric gently. The names of the lost sat heavy on his very soul even if they would never pass from his lips. 

Hans, Andrei, Ivan, Vladimir, Anton, Lazlo, Nicholas, little Sebastian… 

Y/N. 

“I was young then, too young for my own good,” he said softly, “naive and hopeful and convinced that the world was able to change for the better if I simply willed it to be… so when I discovered the connection between my family and Hydra I packed up my things, emptied my bank account, and moved into a tiny apartment with another like-minded friend, Hans Perlitch,” a soft laugh escaped him, genuine and youthful and all too honest, “We preached to the hungry masses of a world free from the thumb of the elite and all the while we would return home to a heated apartment and a stocked pantry. Still, we were well-liked and gathered a bit of a following. That was when everything changed, the early fall of 1997…” 

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

“You know, for someone who claims to be as smart as you say you are, you’re quite a fool,” 

The voice came from the back of the room, smoke still hanging thick in the air from the cigarettes shared by the masses of students that had packed the tiny repurposed stockroom of the bar while Helmut had given his speech for the week.

He didn’t give the interloper the dignity of his full attention as he gathered a few of his scattered notes from the table that served as his soapbox. Still, he was in a generally good mood. Almost double the usual students had shown up for the meeting and a few had even chimed in to ask questions, so he took a deep breath and resigned himself to the fact that rooting out one ignorant opposer now would mean less work in the long run. “I’ve never claimed to be smart, so I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to,” 

A scoff came from the back of the room, but the person made no effort to come closer. “You can change your last name and present yourself as a member of the public all you want, but someday someone is gonna recognize that pretty face of yours, and your whole revolution is going to come crumbling to the ground,” 

Now that was enough to make him pause.

“How did you-”

“How could I not?”

It was sardonic, biting and harsh in the worst of ways. Everything about the tone made Helmut’s blood boil beneath his skin. He was not one who enjoyed being threatened or outdone. Still, the play was out of his hands now, should this strange intruder choose to ruin him. 

Biting his tongue, he finally turned to face them. “You have my attention, now what do you want?”

Across the room, the stranger remained unphased. They were relatively unremarkable, a bottle of cheap beer held firmly in their grip as they toasted to nothing and drank down the remaining dregs. With a smile and a chuckle, they propped their feet up on the small, round table before them. Something about that sight lit a fire in Helmut’s chest. He didn’t know who they were, or why he was there, but he was certain that he despised them already. 

“I don’t want anything,” They replied, and with a certain grandness reserved for a gamin mocking the bourgeoisie, they flourished with their hands, letting their booted feet drop to the ground as they stood and bowed. “I’m just saying that if you’re trying to convince people that you’re not the missing baron while you’re pretending to be all impoverished and rallying us commoners, you might want to change more than your last name and your fashion sense,”

Helmut gritted his teeth. “So what? Did you come here just to rub my face in it, or are you going to help me make a change?” 

That elicited a small snort from the stranger, but they did take the opportunity to traipse up to meet him at his table, leaning on the edge as they gazed up at him with a strange look in their eyes that he couldn’t quite identify. Their face was soft upon closer examination, alive and bright with a merriment that only came from intoxication. It made Helmut sneer involuntarily. 

Licking their lips, they murmured, “Make a change? Is that what you think you’re doing?” and as they let a giggle escape their parted lips Helmut lost it. 

He gasped them firmly by the front of their baggy sweater and dragged them in close. “At least I’m trying! What are you doing about it? Extorting the only person who might be able to actually make a change in this shithole of a country? That’s so much more helpful!” 

Their faces were inches apart as Helmut spat his words like venom and yet the stranger never stopped smiling. It was almost dopey, the grin that made its way across their lips. Helmut couldn’t stand it. 

“You know, baron,” they purred, setting down their empty bottle on the table beside them, “I like you. I might just stick around here for a little while, see what else about your little plan I can pick apart,” 

Never in his life had Helmut been less thrilled for someone to join his cause. 

“Why are you here anyway,” he groaned, releasing their shirt, “don’t you have something better to do with your Friday night than bother me?” and, as an extra jab, he added, “besides drinking yourself to death, of course,” 

The jab didn’t land, though. 

Taking it all in stride, the stranger simply grinned as if they too knew how badly they stank of cheap alcohol and was thrilled that someone had noticed. “Anton invited me. He said I should get out more, make some friends. It’s just a coincidence that I happened to recognize you while writing down an itemized list of all the things you got wrong while you grandstanded,” There was a pride in their words, a giddy energy burbling just beneath the surface of their skin, and suddenly it all made sense. 

Anton was newer to their group, a poet and a free thinker, something hard to find in the slums of Novi Grad. Still, he lightened the impromptu meetings up with his smile and would often spend the hour scrawling away fervently in his notebook as he immortalized each and every word that was said “for posterity”. Helmut was sure that only someone as accepting as Anton would ever choose to spend their time with someone quite as insufferable as the person before him. Suddenly, and uncomfortably, he became aware that he didn’t even know their name. 

Swallowing down a nasty barb, Helmut sighed and offered up his hand, which the stranger took after a moment of pause. “And you are?” 

“Y/N,” They replied.

“Well, Y/N,” he spat their name from his mouth like a cherry pit, “I suppose I’ll have to get used to having a man like you-”

“Don’t call me that,” 

Helmut cocked his head to the side. “Pardon?”

“Don’t call me a man,” Y/N replied, “and before you ask I don’t want to be called a woman either. I’m just… I’m just Y/N, at least for now I am, it’s not like I’d give a rich brat like you my legal name while we’re mixed up in all this illegal, halfway-treasonous nonsense you insist on spouting. Maybe next week I’ll be something completely different and new. Until I tell you otherwise, though, I’m just Y/N, your highness,” 

“Do I dare dream that that means you might learn to respect my ideas?” Helmut sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face and choosing to ignore the sarcastic address in the hopes of letting such things fizzle and die without encouragement. Unfortunately, the goofy grin he got in return told him that was wishful thinking. 

Suddenly, the door opened and Helmut jumped away from his newest tentative ally (if you could call them that) to find Hans standing in the doorway. At his side was Andrei, the third in command of their little posse and final member of the leading triumvirate. They seemed shocked at his lateness and he was quick to try to gather himself up lest they see him as undone as he had found himself while facing the smallest taste of Y/N’s antagonistic nature. 

What had he even been doing when they interrupted him? It took him a moment to even gather himself together enough to remember. Scanning the room, his eyes fell on the papers 

Oh yes, he had been gathering up his notes…

He was quick to finish the task as Y/N sauntered away towards the door, preparing to push past the two men who stood beyond it. 

“You’re Anton’s friend, right?” Hans asked, back stiff. When Y/N nodded he did little more than give a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat. He had always been good with making things impersonal as he crunched the numbers and calculated probabilities. That was why Helmut liked him so much. 

Andrei, on the other hand, provided a needed warmth to their leadership in his outreach. 

He smiled warmly at Y/N and clapped a hand on their shoulder. “I hope we’ll be seeing more of you around,” 

Y/N was quick to offer one of their signature grins before winking back at Helmut in a way that made his stomach turn. “Oh, you’ll be seeing plenty of me from now on,” 

“We’re glad to have you,” Andrei replied as they passed. 

Before they fully left, though, they turned one last time to shoot Helmut a final smile. “Till next Friday, fearless leader,” 

Then, Y/N was gone, lost in the crowd of revelers beyond the small, smokey storeroom and, more importantly, beyond where Helmut’s eyes could follow. Somehow, despite everything, he missed having them there. He quickly chalked the feeling up to wanting to keep a close eye on people with the ability to thwart his best-laid plans and left it at that. Besides, he had no room in his heart for anything besides the betterment of Sokovia. 

Attachments meant the possibility of other priorities, and other priorities got people killed. He couldn’t have that happening on his watch. 

Thankfully, Hans snapped him out of his melancholy quickly. “Do you have everything sorted?” 

Helmut gave a short nod before tapping the pile of papers against the table and setting out towards the door, abandoning his thoughts and feelings about his interaction with Y/N at the table as he exited the room and gathered himself once more into the man his friends needed him to be. 

He could only hope that as long as he ignored Y/N’s jabs, they would soon grow tired and be gone within the month once they realized he was anything but afraid of their little games. 

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

Much to Helmut’s abject disappointment, Y/N did not, in fact, stop showing up. 

They did quite the opposite. 

Instead of leaving him well enough alone, they showed up to Helmut’s meetings every single Wednesday and Friday for months, always piss drunk and happy to jeer at him from the corner, shouting their unwanted opinions and throwing off every meeting with their nonsense.

It was as if they did it just to get on his nerves, and get on his nerves they did.

As the seasons changed, from spring, to winter, to fall, and, finally, to the very beginnings of summer, so did the types of jabs Y/N decided to throw. 

In the beginning it was all business, comments on the idiocy of his plans for a protest based on common police routes or mocking jokes about his unending optimism when it came to fighting the national guard on a large scale, but as things began to get more and more serious on the path towards a full-fledged revolt, they seemed to aim more and more of their vitriol towards Helmut personally.

Sometimes it was a comment on his face or voice. “Ease up pretty boy,” they’d jeer, “keep talking like that and a guardsman might just do more than knock out a few of your perfect teeth,” Other times, which Helmut found infinitely worse, they’d throw a jab at his ability to lead them to victory. “The only thing that waits for us at the end of this is a painful death, especially if you’re not joking about those fucking super soldiers they supposedly have on ice,” 

The worst part was that half the time, Y/N was right. 

Helmut hated to admit it but it was true. More than once he had to go back and edit his plans to take into account a valid point thrown in by Y/N that he had never even considered. Hell, if it had been anyone else picking him to nothing he would have been grateful, but it wasn’t a well-meaning contributor trying to make the world a better place, it was a drunk who seemed to have one solitary life goal: making his life as miserable as possible. Perhaps that’s why they had devolved to frantic angry fucks behind crates of wine and massive cans of chocolate spread after the worst of their arguments…

Not that Helmut cared for them. 

No, he didn’t do attachments. Neither did Y/N. They hated each other, after all. 

It was just a way to release their tensions at the end of stressful meetings and nothing more. They were dealing with matters of life and death after all. It was only normal to seek comfort in the warmth of a companion, if he could even call Y/N a companion.

Whether he liked it or not, though, they were they to stay, even if they rarely made themself useful to the cause.

By early June, the drunkard had become close friends with all of the remaining students that still gathered at Helmut’s location for meetings instead of ending up at the offshoots that began to form once the group got too big to pile into the storeroom. Helmut loathed thinking about it, but Y/N was probably invited to more birthdays and Saturday night get-togethers than he ever was. There was something about their smile that drew people in. It made them feel wanted, welcome. Helmut hated that he never got those smiles from Y/N, only ever the mocking, blithe kind that they handed out freely to friends and enemies alike. 

He didn’t have time to think about that, though. Not with so much fast approaching as the first pears began to hang from branches down in the royal orchards, soft and ripe and ready to be harvested. Their growth marked King Hugo’s daily weakening. His death could come any day, and when it did, Helmut knew he would need to strike quickly if he truly hoped to overturn the system before the coronation of his cousin. That meant every meeting, now more frequently held throughout the week, was filled to the brim with preparations and planning. 

Well, preparations and planning and a healthy dose of Y/N and Helmut yelling at each other about nonsense across the room until Anton or Laszlo stepped in to pull Y/N down into their chair once more so the meeting could resume and they could all go home before things got too late and they were questioned in the street on why they were possibly out and about at such an hour.

Things were no different on that Friday meeting on June 4th. 

“Is there anyone here who isn’t already passing out pamphlets in the dorms at NVU tonight?” Helmut asked the room, scanning for a hand that didn’t belong to his least favorite member of the group. Unfortunately, none came up. “Come one now, at least one of you has to be free,”

Y/N groaned. “It’s like you don’t even see my hand waving up here, oh great one,” There they went again with the ridiculous terms of address that made Helmut’s blood sizzle in his veins. He remained composed, though. At least, as composed as he could be given the situation.

“I’m ignoring you because I remember the last time I asked your drunk ass to pass out pamphlets. What round of dominos were you on by the time I showed up to check on you, five or six?” 

The scalding remark was enough to get Y/N to sheepishly lower their hand, eyes downcast. It was getting easier and easier for Helmut to manage to shut them up the more frantic meetings got, and he couldn’t say he was displeased by that fact no matter why it was the way that it was. A quiet Y/N meant less chance for mistakes which meant fewer future casualties. Fewer casualties were good, it was what he strived for. 

Thankfully for Helmut, a new hand came up. 

It belonged to Vladimir, the oldest of the group by a year rounding out at an even 26 years old. He was dependable, definitely the kind who could be trusted to run an errand as important as the one Helmut needed to have done. The thought that Vladimir would be the one to pick up the shipment of smuggled guns was a relief. He made as much evident while explaining their next moves. 

Throughout the remainder of the meeting, though, Helmut couldn’t help but feel watched. It didn’t last long, half an hour at most. Still, there was the creeping itch on the back of his neck that told him there were eyes on him that he wasn’t aware of. Only when the group was dismissed and the feeling didn’t go away did he realize exactly who was staring at him so intently.

“I hope you know I really did intend to hand out those pamphlets,” Y/N said once they were the last one remaining, the rest of the group having trickled out to get food and drinks before heading home for the night. It wasn’t unusual for Helmut and Y/N to be the last two remaining at the end of a meeting. That didn’t mean he was happy about it though. 

So, instead of offering up an acknowledgment, he busied himself with plotting out a few potential spots to barricade the roads and hunker down when things got messy in highlighter on the large, laminated map of Novi Grad that had found its home on the big front table.

Y/N didn’t let up, though. They never did. “I know you don’t believe me, why would you, but I did. I just wanted to loosen them up before I started talking about overthrowing the damn government, which is a terrible plan, by the way. Have I told you that lately?”

“Only every time you see me,” Helmut sighed. 

Somehow, that made Y/N smile, soft and sarcastic and all too honest. Helmut didn’t know how they managed it. Secretly, he envied their neverending veracity. He’d never say that though. No, not while they crossed the floor and offered up a large bottle of whiskey. 

“A drink, dear leader?” 

“Absolutely not” He griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I need to remind you I don’t drink?” 

“Too many,” 

“For once, I agree with you,” 

A laugh passed through Y/N’s plush lips and, regrettably, Helmut couldn’t help but look up at them and relish in the sight. Their hair was a bit longer than they usually grew it out, a particularly unruly piece tucked behind their ear. Helmut hated that he noticed little details like that, despised the way he had come to know the soft dip of their cupid’s bow and the warmth of their palm. It was still Y/N, after all, for better or worse. He couldn’t help but allow himself those small recognitions though. It made him feel human, or something close to it. 

Still, all good things must come to an end, and they did when Y/N decided to speak again. “You know, the longer I show up for these stupid meetings, the more I think you’re actually gonna try to go up against those bastards,” 

Helmut should have known the barb was coming, but perhaps his better nature, if it truly existed, prevented that. Nevertheless, he sighed into his hands as he dropped his highlighter. “If I didn’t intend to actually try to change things, why would I have spent the last year of my life living in a shitty apartment and putting up with you?”

“You’d be surprised the things people do and never finish. Not everyone is as driven as you are,” Y/N huffed. They were quick to seat themself on the table once Helmut wasn’t actively working over it, smearing the highlighter away on their corduroy pants. “Nobody would blame you if you did tap out, you know. There are plenty of ways to make a change that don’t involve trying to take down the entire local Sokovian military force until they decide to give you what you want,”

“The changes we could make without a revolt wouldn’t really be changes, they’d just be the illusion of changes. You know that as well as I do,” Helmut replied with a groan. 

Two of the fingers from Y/N’s free hand, the one that wasn’t gripping their bottle like a lifeline, pointed towards the closed door behind them. “Is living under our current system and knowing they have fingers in a few less-than-savory organizations really worse than leading all of your friends to their deaths?” 

That struck a nerve in Helmut’s chest.

“And who says that has to be true?” 

“Come on, oh benevolent and giving baron,” Y/N’s voice was light yet pointed, like a million minuscule particles of glass flying through the air, “Do you really think we’re all gonna make it out of a fight with the big guys? And even if all of us do, can you say the same for the poor kids fighting where we aren’t?”

“I never said there would be no casualties-”

“What about Sebastian? The kid is barely 12 and I know you’re going to say that if he tries to show up, you’re gonna send him home, but I think you underestimate how many people will want even someone as young as him dead if they catch him in the street. Are you really going to let him risk his life for this? A half-assed plan for you to get revenge on your asshole relatives for making your childhood shitty?” 

“You know that’s not what this is about,” 

“Do I?” Y/N asked, and for just a second, no, a millisecond, Helmut wasn’t sure anymore. It was only a brief moment though, nothing more. The fact that they could make him doubt himself do deeply though… it was a problem. Calling it that was an understatement, but there was no other way to put it that truly worked. 

Helmut growled lowly and nodded, pushing the doubt from his mind. He was right. He had to be right. What would he be if he was wrong? A spoiled rich boy who was leading his friends to their dooms for nothing? 

No.

He had to be right, so he was. It was as simple as that.

“Is there anything else you need to critique, or can you leave me to work now?” Helmut asked. His patience had long since worn thin. That didn’t matter much to Y/N, though. They liked to wear him down thin, see just how far they could push without breaking his resolve. It was a game they were both intimately acquainted with. 

They played their hand expertly. “In fact,” Y/N smiled while they spoke, another mocking little grin that made Helmut’s stomach turn in the best and worst of ways, “there is one last thing I needed to ask about,” 

“I shudder to think what it might be,”

“How are you going to hide your face?” 

The question caught Helmut off-guard as he leaned back on his heels, letting his forearms brace against the edge of the table, his face scrunching up in thought. “What?” 

Y/N gestured absently towards his face before bringing their bottle to their lips. “I’m betting that your family will expect you to be out there whenever we actually stage our attack. If I’m right, that means the soldiers will be looking for you as their top priority, and if they find you, they’ll kill everybody around you just to get a chance to drag you back to mommy and daddy. Even if they don’t kill us on sight we’ll be charged for harboring you without turning you in to the proper authorities. So, how are you going to hide your face?” 

Once again, Helmut found himself thinking that, despite their drunken stupor, Y/N might just be right, and he hated it. He hated that he hadn’t thought of it first, hated that it was a valid point, hated that he had no satisfying way to answer the question they had posed. He hated it all. 

“I’ll just throw on a bandana,” He managed to grumble, and that was that. 

Or, that should have been that, but Y/N scoffed at the idea, setting down their bottle and leaning in close to Helmut’s face. After a moment of contemplation, they brought their hand up to his face and let their thumb come to rest on one of his largest beauty marks, the mole that rested high on the left side of his nose. “I’m afraid that a bandana isn’t going to cover up your absolutely blinding radiance, fearless leader,” There was a softness to their voice, a gentility Helmut was unused to. It made his chest hurt. He hated that too. 

“Are you going to offer a solution or are you just going to sit there telling me I’m stupid,” His words were a low groan. 

Much to his surprise, though, Y/N reached into their back pocket only to pass him a crumpled purple ball. It was obviously fabric, though the outside seemed to be coated in some sort of weatherproofing, and upon closer inspection, once unraveled, two distinct eyeholes became visible. 

“Is this-”

“A mask?” Y/N finished his sentence for him, “Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t think about it, so I whipped something up with some old polyester-based yarn and then I coated it so it wouldn’t be a problem if it got wet. It should still be breathable, though,” 

For the first time since he’d known them, Helmut looked up at Y/N and thought that they were incredibly valuable. He still hated them, of course he did. Y/N was Y/N and he was himself and they hated each other because they were, at their basest, entirely incompatible. 

At his silence, Y/N looked away, almost nervous. “I hope it’s alright,” 

“It’s more than alright,” Helmut said as kindly as he could possibly manage, “I hate to say this, but owe you one,” 

“Could I collect on that debt now?” Minutely, Y/N leaned closer, eyes falling to Helmut’s lips. 

He swallowed thickly. “You’re drunk, Y/N,” 

“I know I am. Isn’t that wonderful?” 

“Why would that be wonderful?” 

“Because that means I won’t remember this,” And, with that, they closed the gap between the two of them and captured Helmut’s lips in his own. 

Kissing Y/N wasn’t a new thing. They had kissed plenty of times during their frenzied hookups; soft kisses and hard kisses and long kisses and short kisses. Still, Helmut would never get used to the thrill of it. That was yet another thing he hated about Y/N. He could never quite get used to them. Every single interaction always felt as fresh and raw as their first. 

With a fervor only he could muster, Helmut kissed back and pushed at Y/N’s hips, pressing them harder into the table below, and just as quickly as he had gained a physical mask, he had lost his emotional one. 

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

In the end, that was the last time Helmut had slept with Y/N.

They had fallen together, two sweaty half-dressed bodies laid out over the laminated map of Novi Grad, and then Y/N had gathered themself up and left with little more than one last kiss pressed to Helmut’s temple. By the time he himself had gotten home to Hans, the news of King Hugo’s death was almost an hour old.

After a few phone calls to lay the final plans and keep every sect of their band of revolutionaries on the same schedules, things rolled into motion like a finely tuned machine. 

On the morning of June 5th, the barricades rose and Helmut wore his mask proudly as his people fought for freedom in the streets he had walked since childhood. Y/N was beside him. 

By the early hours of June 6th, they were the only barricade that remained. 

Helmut should have known that once things got too challenging that the super soldiers would be released, he should have anticipated that they’d be waiting for the backlash once king Hugo passed, and yet he hadn’t. He had blindly walked into the disaster with his eyes wide open. There was no one to blame but himself. 

Little Sebastian, just one month shy of 13 years old, was dead, shot at long distance when he had attempted to grab a fallen box of bullets that had toppled over the peak of the jumble of hoarded furniture and scrap metal. Anton was dead too, taken at gunpoint while he stood guard at a side street and executed with his eyes bound and a sonnet on his lips. Even Ivan, stoic and strong Ivan who bound his knuckles in boxer’s tape and sparred with Helmut when he needed to clear his head, had been caught in the initial fire and bled out over the course of the day, dying with a smile on his face as he leaned on a discarded chair.

I never said there’d be no casualties.

His own words rang in his ears, taunted him with every bullet he shot and every breath he dragged into his aching lungs. How had he ever been so naive to believe that even one life could be expendable?  

The real lowest point came at almost midnight when Helmut picked up a call from a student on another barricade only to met with screaming. “Winter is coming!” They had wailed, “Winter is coming!” and then they had died, right there over speakerphone. Helmut had the good sense to hang up once it got to the worst of it, the strangled gurgled growing to be too much for the group. 

As things truly settled, in those hours so early that the world still considered them night, Helmut still stood vigilant. That’s when Y/N finally approached. 

They wore no smile, not like usual. Instead, their face was stoic as they came to stand beside Helmut and waited silently for a moment. He took the chance to beat them to the punch. 

“You don’t have to tell me you were right. I know you were,” I hate you for it.

Y/N offered a gentle, humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t rub it in at a time like this, but yeah, I was,” I know you do. I hate myself for it too. 

Slowly, Helmut brought a hand to his face, scrubbing the exhaustion away from his eyes. How had it all come to this? 

“How much time do you think we have,” Y/N was speaking before he had a chance to say anything more, saving him from having to elaborate on his admission. He was grateful. Grateful to not be alone, grateful to be spared more shame, grateful to see Y/N’s gentle smile one more time. He’d never show it though. No, he was to be the fearless leader till the end. 

So, he sucked in a deep breath and stared out into the starry sky. “A few hours at most. I’m surprised they haven’t made another advance after the last big push in the evening when we lost…” he swallowed thickly, “when we lost Anton,” 

Licking their lips and pushing back their hair, Y/N sighed. “For what it’s worth, for a minute there I really believed you could do it,” 

It was a bigger compliment than it seemed and they both knew it, but neither acknowledged it. Instead, Helmut gestured absently towards the half-full bottle of wine in Y/N’s hand. “You mind if I have a drink of that?” 

A grin spread across their lips, but it was as far from mocking as was possible as they passed the bottle over. 

“I never thought I’d see the day,”

Lifting the bottom of his mask to take a swig, Helmut groaned at the deep, bitter burn of it. “Don’t get used to it,” He replaced the fabric quickly before passing the bottle back. 

“I’ll try not to,” 

“Happy 20th, by the way,” Y/N added, “this is a hell of a way to celebrate, but it’s very you,” 

Helmut froze as the realization sunk in that it was, in fact, the 6th of June, even if it had only been that way for a couple hours. 

There had been a party planned. It was just an intimate thing, cake and a few card games in the afternoon with his closest friends, but that was long behind them now, forgotten in favor of the larger cause. To Y/N, though, there was never a larger cause than Helmut himself. He was realizing that slowly. In a bitter moment of realization, he laughed. 

“What?” 

“You weren’t invited,” 

They quirked up an eyebrow. “Huh?” 

“To the birthday party. I didn’t invite you,” 

“Well, I’m here now, and this is a pretty good party if I do say so myself. You and me and the revolution all jam-packed together in the middle of a street. Wouldn’t it be cool if the new democracy was born on the same day you were?” 

He smiled softly. “It was meant to be,” 

“I got you something, you know, even though I knew I wasn’t invited to the party,” Y/N added breathlessly. “It was stupid, just some dumb sweater with a whole bunch of random ass quotes from Machiavelli all over the back, but Anton and I saw it when we visited the better side of town to hang up those fliers for the march a few weeks ago and we knew you had to have it. It’s sitting all wrapped up on my front table,” 

“It’s a shame I won’t get to open it today,”

They nodded distantly. “Yeah, a real shame…”  

Then, they were quiet again, staring up at the stars mere feet away from each other and yet miles apart, farther than they’d ever been. 

Y/N cut through the soundless night first, but not before several silent minutes had passed, filled with only the distant chatter of their surviving friends and the gentle whistling of the breeze over the rooftops above. “When everything goes to shit… with the universe, I mean, not now. Everything’s already gone to shit now. But that notwithstanding, when the world goes kaput and the sun explodes, we’re all gonna be starstuff together, right? You and I and Sebastian and Andrei and Anton and… all of us. We’re gonna be nothing but matter and dust out there in space,” 

“Is there a point to this or are you just having an existential crisis?” Helmut muttered, but there was no bite to it. 

They just chuckled as their eyes scanned the sky. 

“I was just thinking, if all of us are gonna be nothing more than matter and dust and star stuff, it only makes sense that someday, even if it’s a billion years from now, a little part of each of us will be together again as part of some supernova in the sky to be seen by somebody else, and, when that day comes, I think I’m gonna know, and everything is gonna be alright,” 

He hummed thoughtfully, running a hand absently over the thick purple knit of his mask, relishing in the gummy softness of the coating on his bare fingertips in the cooling air. “That makes no sense,” 

“Do you think I don’t know that?” 

“Still, it’s a pretty thought. Anton would have liked it,” 

“Yeah, he would have…”  

Helmut let his eyes fall from the sky to his companion. They looked so fragile, so broken, that he could barely stand himself, because, if he hadn’t made the stupid choices to lead them here, they never would have felt that way. They’d be curled up in bed somewhere, asleep and safe, far from the cold darkness of the night at his side. It made him sick. 

How could he possibly put that to words? How could he apologize for denying every nudge, every chance to turn around? He couldn’t, and it made him as bitter as the wine that Y/N sipped from absently before turning to face him once again. 

“Hey, Helmut,” they whispered, and his breath caught in his throat because how dare his voice sound so sweet on their lips? How dare they keep that joy, the joy of hearing his name whispered with reverence on the early morning breeze, real and caring and perfect, away from him for so long? “Do you think I could take a chair from the barricade?” 

Just as soon as it had come, the joy was gone. “Why would you need a chair?” 

Y/N shrugged. “I want to go sleep,” 

“Why can’t you sleep out here?”

“I don’t want to be woken up,”

“We wouldn’t wake you until the fighting was starting back up again-” 

“Oh, my darling fearless leader,” their voice was empty, tinny and cold, “I don’t ever want to be woken up,” 

Their words pierced Helmut straight through the heart he didn’t know he had. It made him feel so much, so many emotions he had simply not allowed himself out of a misplaced sense of self-preservation. “But we’ll need every able body ready to fight when they send in the super soldiers if we even want a chance at making it out of this,” 

The smile that crossed Y/N’s lips didn’t come from a place of joy, nor did it mock Helmut for his blind and dying faith. It was simply there because they did not know how to do anything else. “There’s no making it out of this. Not for me, at least. For you, though… you still have a chance,” 

Denial and anger went hand in hand as Helmut sucked his teeth, grinding his molars and letting his hand ghost over his pistol hanging at his hip. 

“So you’d really rather die like a coward than take a stand against the evils in the world?” he spat, harsh and cold as the air around them. “Pathetic,” 

“Don’t do this now, Helmut, not after we were finally getting somewhere. I don’t want to die with things like that,” 

“I’m not the one who’s giving up,” he snapped.

He just needed… something. A reaction. A reason to keep fighting when the war was already lost. Anything. Why couldn’t Y/N light the same fire in him that they’d kindled for months? The fire that had driven him to spend sleepless nights poring over maps and plans and speeches and guns. If he just pushed a little harder, just hit the right button, they’d light it again, he just knew it. 

“Please,” the word fell fragile from Y/N’s lips. Not a beg, just a soft plea. 

It fell on deaf ears. 

“You know what? You can take your chair!” Helmut was shouting then, loud enough that the remaining students on the barricade could hear every word. “Take your chair and leave us to fight while you die in your sleep. If we make it through the day I’ll put the bullet between your eyes myself. Now get out of here! I don’t want to see you again,” There was a cruelty to it, an edge that he thought might just push them off the edge. Still, it wasn’t cruel without reason. Helmut thought that maybe, if he was lucky enough, Y/N would simply leave. 

They had no stakes in the results of the revolt, no serious lasting ties that would get them hunted down in the weeks to come if things came to a gruesome end. If he bid them to leave, to disappear from his sight, there was a chance, however small, that they would disappear into the shadows with a chance to live. 

Against all odds, though, Y/N smiled one of those empty smiles again and drank down the very last of their wine.

“As your baronship commands,” they whispered, before departing to gather up a chair and disappearing into the restaurant where they had met so many times before. 

Then, they were gone, and Helmut was free to sink to the ground as his heart broke and mended and broke again. 

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

As expected, the super soldiers arrived only a couple of hours past Y/N’s departure.

Their arrival was silent, only marked by the slow thud of retreating national guardsmen in the distance. They weren’t needed there anymore, and the less they saw the better. 

Helmut watched his friends fall one by one in the panic, the barricade falling to ruin as the soldiers- if they could even be considered that, soldier seemed a far too human term for the monstrous creatures before him- pulled it apart with their bare hands. From there it was just a game of who was caught first in the insanity that ensued. 

Nicholas; caught a bullet through the neck. 

Vladimir; thrown against a solid stone wall at a speed near impossible.

Lazlo; impaled on a bit of broken wood as the wood exploded. 

Andrei; shot 3 times point-blank in the chest as he held the door closed to buy Hans and Helmut a little more time with a love confession for his closest companion falling from his mouth. 

Hans…

Helmut didn’t know how Hans died. 

He had never asked. All he knew that the shots had come as he wailed Andrei’s name, and then there was a deathly silence in the golden light of the morning sun as Helmut stood alone at the back of the storeroom, taking in the 4 walls that had held the best year of his life. 

What remained now? 

A failed dream? A pile of bodies? A single survivor waiting for his death?

Helmut didn’t know. He couldn’t fathom it. 

The two soldiers sent to finish the job were nameless and nondescript as they slipped through the door, armed with long, silent rifles and hidden by masks not too dissimilar from Helmut’s own. They did not speak, not a word. Instead, they simply raised their guns and took aim at Helmut as he closed his eyes and thought of-

“Wait!”

The word rang out heavy and made the two executioners snap to the side.

“I’m with him! I’m with the revolution! Down with King Emil! Down with the monarchy!”  

There, hidden among the crates and shelves of canned goods and glass bottles, was Y/N. 

They looked objectively awful, eyes rimmed red and hair mussed up and coated with oil. Still, it was the most beautiful sight Helmut had ever seen. 

It was only right that they go together. 

Slowly, Y/N made their way across the room to take their place at Helmut’s side. “I know you said you never wanted to see me again, but I assume you’ll make an exception for the circumstances,”

“I never meant it,” he whispered back, and Y/N smiled, “You have to know, I never meant it,” 

“Even if you did, I never would have listened-”

Suddenly, one of the soldiers spoke, taking aim straight for Helmut down the barrel of their gun. 

“Quiet,” 

Y/N only paused for a moment before pressing their hand into his. “Kiss me, Helmut?”

Who was he to deny them? 

Pulling off his mask, he pressed his lips to theirs and clasped their hand like it was the last thing he would ever do. When he pulled away, they were smiling one of their old, mocking, joyous smiles. 

“Oh, fearless leader… I win,” 

The words were a whisper of air against his lips. Before he could fathom the true meaning of them the pair was peppered in a spray of gunfire as Helmut closed his eyes to the world for what should have been the final time. 

When he opened them, Y/N was struck dead at his feet. 

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

It was their final winning move, he later realized, the checkmate to a game of chess he never believed would end. 

In the end, Y/N had been as correct as they always were.

All the same, he hated them for it. 

Some nights, in the darkness of his room back at the summer estate where his father has imprisoned him until further notice, he wondered if Y/N had kissed him because they wanted to or if they had done it to get him to remove his mask long enough that the soldiers would recognize him and spare him. It wouldn’t surprise him. Y/N did have a tendency to be right about things like that. 

Ghosts haunted him often.

Not full specters, he would wish for something so merciful. Instead, he saw flashes in the periphery of his vision. Outside his window, he’d hear a child’s laugher and be so sure it was Sebastian until he looked out to find that it was simply a group of the staff’s children playing ball. Or, when the assigned guardsman brought him his dinner, he would glance down the hall and be so sure that a man at the other end was Lazlo, preparing to face a board of proctors as he delivered a thesis he would never write. It never was, though. It never would be. 

Worst of all, when he laid awake in his bed as the clock struck twelve, he would feel them beside him. 

They had never slept together in the literal sense. Whatever they had shared (love, Helmut would come to realize after many, many years with Heike, painfully hollow without the same kind of flame. He had loved them and simply never known how to show it) was purely physical and contained within that bloody, bloody storeroom that he was sure would be torn down someday soon as they glossed over the casualties and stamped out the evidence. Still, he could feel Y/N beside him in the darkness despite the fact that they had never been there. 

Their head on his chest, their body pressed flush to his side, their hot breath fanning over the fabric of his nightshirt, creating a patch of damp warmth in its wake…

It was maddening, an eternal punishment he was doomed to endure for his stupidity. Nevertheless, if he let his brain wander to a better place, a different lifetime, it was almost comforting to feel their ghost wrapped tightly to his side. 

When he woke, though, the loss of the dream was more maddening than living through it. 

Almost a month after the failed revolution, in the hot and heady days of early July when the wasps buzzed loud at the window and the skies were filled with thunderclouds most of the time, his father finally came to speak to him.  

“I trust you spent your birthday how you wished to,” Heinrich said plainly. There was no question to it, just an empty sentiment. 

Mockery wasn’t nearly as pleasant when delivered by his father and not his lover, Helmut thought distantly. 

“On the contrary, I spent my birthday watching everyone I cared about die,” he snapped back. 

Heinrich didn’t offer any sort of commiseration. He simply shrugged and continued on with what he was there to say, not that his son minded much. The less time he spent there the more time Helmut would have to himself, which was preferable to listening to his father’s droning. 

“You’re lucky to be alive. The family is on thin ice thanks to that stunt you pulled, but with time we’re all sure that you’ll become an asset if you simply learn to use that fire for something more… productive,” 

Who the ‘we’ was went unspoken. It didn’t need to be.

Helmut sighed and looked out the window at the rain falling on the garden. Nicholas would have loved the gardens at this home. He would have pressed every flower at least once in the little book he kept beside him filled with the pieces of the world that he collected as he passed through it. Where would he be kept and collected now that he was dead? 

“I’ve called in a favor and enrolled you for military service. You’ll be tested to find your strengths, sent where you’re best suited, and trained from the ground up. Once we know you can be trusted, you might even lead your own squadron and make some friends more of your caliber,” 

It took all Helmut’s strength to clench his teeth and hold back the rage he felt in his chest. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you’re married,” 

Married. 

The word struck a bolt through the rage and dissolved it, giving way to pure shock. “What the hell do you mean?” 

Crossing his arms, Heinrich took to pacing a 2-foot line back and forth in front of the door. “We’ve found a suitable match from a good standing Sokovian family, and they’re willing to look past your little misstep as long as their daughter becomes a baroness and is adequately involved in society. She’ll be here in three days time and you’ll have a week to get acquainted before the wedding,” 

“I never said I was going to get married,” Helmut growled, “You can’t make me get married,” 

His father stared down at him from above like he was a little boy again. “I can make you do whatever I want. Don’t think I didn’t hear about what happened with that freak they shot down at your side! No son of mine is ending up with someone like-”

In an instant, Helmut had rushed across the room and punched his father square in the jaw. As blood poured down the man’s face, a hiss escaped his son’s lips. 

“Never talk about Y/N like that again,”

“So it had a name!”

That earned him another punch, but Heinrich escaped Helmut’s grip quickly, cupping a hand beneath his nose to catch the redness that poured from his face. As he retreated out the door, he turned to deliver his final verdict. “You have three days to get your act together, and maybe, just maybe, if you don’t fuck this up, I’ll let you know where they dumped all your little friends to rot,” And with that, he shut the door behind him and left Helmut to pick up the pieces of his soul.

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

The tale Zemo wove was a sad one (sans most of the details about Y/N. That was a story whose finer details he would take to his grave) and as he came to a close, the purple fabric between his fingers was a tether to reality. The coating was a bit old, thinner in places than it should have been, but it had remained steady and strong for over 20 years and he didn’t know the first place to start repairing it. 

Y/N would have known, they’d been the one to do it in the first place after all, but they were long gone, not even a ghost anymore. Just a name and a face forgotten to time as all the other impoverished students were, buried in an unmarked grave in a place he never learned. It was all that remained of them. The only thing that proved they were ever there at all. 

“You know the rest of the story,” he added firmly. “I married Heike, climbed the ranks of the military, had my son… and they were simply lost, an unwritten page in the history of a country that no longer exists,” 

Suddenly, though, a deep voice cut in through the heavy air between them. 

“Ciczheni,”

“Pardon?” Zemo asked softly, pouring himself a final tumbler of whiskey and stuffing the mask back in his pocket. 

“We buried them in Ciczheni,” 

He nearly dropped the bottle in his hand. 

Bucky was quick to continue, voice low and eyes clouded with memory in a way that only the two of them would ever truly understand. “It’s a tiny town along the border to the Czech Republic. There’s a big open field there, or at least there was, marked with a flat grave marking it as a burial site. I don’t remember the name on it, some random pseudonym, but they’re all there, all 57 dead and buried in the ground under that rock,” 

Helmut gave a stiff nod. “I see,” Then, in one long gulp, he downed the whole two fingers of whiskey straight and relished in the way it burned down his throat. When the glass was empty and set down safely on the counter again he was quick to school his expression as he turned away. “I’m afraid all that excitement has exhausted me for the day. Goodnight, gentlemen,”

He was gone down the hallway into his bedroom before the pair had a chance to say another word. 

Ciczheni. 

As he undressed, he smiled softly, letting a few errant tears drip down his cheeks. 

They had been born and raised in that tiny farming town. Sometimes, when he had let himself listen in on their conversations with some of the other members of their small, tight group, they would talk about how much they wanted to return someday, once they’d made enough money to live on for a while if they supported themself by growing a small garden and maybe keeping some chickens. The thought, even then, had always made him smile. Just Y/N and a cottage and a chicken or two. 

Sometimes, if he was especially indulgent, he would imagine himself there with them. Sharing a home. 

Making a family. 

His biological family, the one he had created with marriage and his own flesh and blood, was something different entirely. He had loved them. God, how he’d loved them. Still, it was never the same. He was never at peace. He was never home. There would always be a bitterness there, as bitter as the dark summer wine he’d drunk the night he’d turned 20, a resentment that came with the obligation of creating a place in his heart for them when there never should have been. 

For Y/N, though... 

He sighed, wrapping himself in his robe and slipping on a pair of fleece pajama pants before crawling between the sheets and laying flat on his back, eyes to the ceiling. 

Things wouldn’t have been happy all the time. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have been happy even most of the time. Still, they would have been where they belonged, seated firmly at his side for the rest of their long, wonderful lives. 

Ciczheni, he repeated in his mind, then the memorial for Novi Grad. It was a minor detour, adding barely 2 hours more to the whole trip when he had plenty more to spare. 

Ciczheni, then Novi Grad, and then, finally, peace. 

Beside him, he could feel the phantom limbs wrap around his body, resting their weight firmly on his chest where the guilt and shame and terror built by the day, and for the first time in almost a decade they were not Heike’s. Perhaps, if all went according to plan, they wouldn’t be phantom much longer. 

Or, if not, he would wait. He would wait a billion years to disintegrate into stardust and spread across the cosmos in search of them. 

Either way, when they were together again, he’d know. 

They both would. 

--------

a/n: I’m not crying, you’re crying. 

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater​ , @elaineygrace​ , @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy​ , @wh0re-4-techno​ , @forcebros​ , @sugarsweetkiss​ , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff​ , @killsandthrills​ , @novasstudy​ , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp​ , @inmate-marmalade​ , @alanathedeer​ , @your-pixels-are-showing​ , @shit-post-things​ , @bbarton​ , @sux-ubus​ , @halefirewarrior​ , @janelongxox​ , @rax-writes​ , @wondermia69​ , @booklover2929​ , @lol-im-done​ , @rorodendra​ , @spookycereal-s​ , @viviace​ , @wxrmh0le​ , @whatawildone​ , @mush-room-princess​ , @aliyahsfantasticlife​ ,  @gredvb​ , @chipster-21​ , @whatawildone​ , @cloud-of-roses​ , @bry-97​ , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ , @be-cautious-around-bri​ , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ , @frothonthedaydreams​

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

Warnings: 18+, explicit, references to past non-con/rape (not between main pairing, not explicit), daddy kink, Peter in lingerie, references to gaslighting and abusive relationship (not between main pairing, not explicit). The warnings are for the story as whole, not for this chapter specifically. I’ll add more in the future, if needed.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

“He can’t do this!” Ned slammed his hands down on the counter between them, as Peter took a swig of the cheap wine he bought with the last ten bucks he had in his wallet. “He isn’t even in all of the videos, at least half of the money is rightfully yours!” He kept going, stating the obvious, but Peter just sighed and shrugged.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Ned, I’m just relaying what he told me: he’s not gonna give me anything. It’s his channel, his equipment, the money from the subscriptions goes straight to his bank account, so it’s his. It’s all his. His words, by the way.” He took another swig of wine straight from the bottle. He had been drinking from a small glass Ned offered him – he wasn’t a pirate – but it soon proved to be too small to quench his pain, so. Yeah. Pirate style it was.

“You have to sue his ass, Peter, he can’t get away with this,” MJ intervened. She was sitting next to him on a stool by the kitchen counter, so he turned to look at her with a deep frown on his face.

“Did you not hear me saying I just spent my last ten dollars on this bottle of wine? I have, like, twenty four cents left in my pocket. And that’s it. I can’t hire a lawyer, I can’t even feed myself right now!” He raised his voice a little, but quickly got himself back under control and apologized. His friends were not to blame for his predicament – they did try to warn him Beck was bad news, he didn’t want to listen. “And you know what? I don’t give a fuck. He can choke on all of it if he wants, the videos, the money, the subscribers, I don’t fucking care.” It wasn’t true, of course. Well, partially. He really didn’t care about the money, videos, subscribers, etc, but he cared about Beck. He would have given everything else up if it meant he could keep him.

Which was stupid of him, of course. But he certainly wasn’t winning any awards for being a great decision maker.

“It’s still not fair. I mean, I knew that guy was sleazy, but you’d think he’d have the decency to at least give you something, you know? You’ve been together for three years, he’s been making money off your ass for almost as long. How could he just fucking kick you out and not give you a single dime? After all the money you’ve made for him? It’s fucking sick, that guy is fucking psychopath if you ask me.” MJ’s face was turning red from anger, which made Peter smile a little. It felt good to know he was loved by someone, even if he hadn’t been the best friend to them for the past few years.

The thought made him close his eyes for a second, guilt creeping over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d called either of them – maybe on Ned’s birthday, almost two months earlier. They used to be inseparable, the three of them; the three musketeers, as corny and lame as it sounded. For years, those two were the only family he knew, but when Beck came into his life, everything changed.

Stupid fucking Beck.

Peter used to think of him as his own personal super-hero – it did feel like he had come to save him, after all. They met when he was seventeen, he had been living in foster homes for almost seven years by then, after Ben and May passed away. At the time, he was with his fifth family, and there were so many children in that house, so many of them came and went, that their foster parents didn’t really keep tabs most of the time. It was easy to sneak out, and Peter did, often.

He met Beck on one of his night walks – and their first meeting should have raised all kinds of red flags, but for whatever reason, it didn’t. Beck slowed the car next to him, rolled down the window and asked how much Peter charged for a blowjob. Just like that. The teen gasped at first, but when he looked around for a moment, he realized he wasn’t in the most family friendly neighborhood. There were, in fact, some men and women around him who definitely looked like they were there for that, but Peter was in sweats, for crying out loud, and he definitely looked his age – or even younger than that.

His wide eyes must have given him away, because the older man quickly apologized and showed him a charming, white smile. He made up some excuse about mistaking him for someone else and the boy said it was ok. He was going to keep walking when Beck asked what his name was. Then how old he was. Then where he was going, where he ha come from.

Looking back, Peter knew he should have run. He should have left, because there was no excuse for an adult man like him to keep asking a teenager so many questions right after he basically offered him money to suck his dick. But that Peter, that 17-year-old boy, was still a bit too naive. To have such a handsome man showing interest in him – his kind, blue eyes smiling at him, warm and safe – was inebriating. He actually looked at him. And cared. At least Peter thought he did at the time. And he was so lonely back then, even that little bit of attention meant the world to him.

He should have run, but he stayed. Should have run, but got in his car. Should have run, but ended up giving him a clumsy hand job in the backseat, after just a few sweet promises whispered in his eager ears. Beck was so good with words, he could have convinced Peter to jump off a bridge that very same night if he wanted.  

They exchanged phone numbers. For weeks, they texted and called each other, until they could  meet again. By then, he was smitten. At twenty, he could see how innocent he had been, how trusting and open he was with a complete stranger. A 32 year-old stranger, at that. Ned and MJ, his only friends from school, warned him that it wasn’t okay. That it was weird for a man his age to be interested in a teenage boy, but Peter said they were wrong. He said he wasn’t just a regular kid, he had been through stuff they could only imagine. He was mature and experienced, and Beck could see that, which was why he liked him.

Looking back now, it was embarrassing how wrong he was. Beck was an illusionist. Sad thing was everyone could see the trapdoor but him.

“So what are you gonna do now?” MJ asked, fishing another bottle of wine from under the counter and placing it in front of Peter, who almost cried in gratitude.

“You mean besides crying myself to sleep for the next few months?” He wasn’t really joking. The only reason he wasn’t crying right at that moment was because he had spent almost three hours bawling his eyes out on a park bench close to their – well, Beck’s – apartment, hoping against hope that Beck would reconsider and come after him. When it became clear it wasn’t going to happen, he headed to the only place he knew he could find refuge – even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Yeah, besides that, obviously.” She opened the wine bottle and before he could take it and drink straight from it, she poured three glasses and Peter sighed, defeated.

“I have no idea.” He answered, only slightly surprised that he actually meant it. He had absolutely no clue what to do. For three years, he hadn’t had to worry about money – or anything, really. Beck took care of everything and he just assumed it would always be like that. That he would always have him by his side to take care of him.

He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Are you going to keep doing porn?” Ned asked, a worried expression on his face. Peter remembered he hated the idea when Beck first suggested it, as soon as he turned eighteen.

People are gonna lose it, Beck said. A pretty little twink and a hot daddy? We’re going to be a hit.

And they were. Their first videos blew up quickly, people were either disgusted by the thought of them together – because of the age gap – or completely enthralled. The haters helped them get more views, and Peter soon learned that there really was no such thing as bad publicity. Beck promoted their videos on twitter, where they accumulated thousands of followers. Peter remembered that, back then, many people sent him worried messages, saying he was too young, that Beck was a predator, that he was taking advantage of him.

In retrospect, they might have been right, after all.

He wasn’t too sure about doing porn when they first started, he knew once they released the first video, there was no going back, there was no way they could ever take it down – the internet was forever. Nothing was ever truly deleted. He wanted to be a dad someday, what if his children ever saw those videos in the future? What would have Ben and May thought? What about his parents?

None of this matters, honey, Beck assured him. These kids don’t even exist yet, don’t worry about them. And your relatives, well… They’re gone, sweetie. You can’t really disappoint them anymore.

So Peter did it. And he was terrified at first, he felt so exposed, people all over the world could see him in his most vulnerable moments, all of him, in every position Beck managed to put him in, in any outfit he thought the public might like, in any setting he thought might bring in more viewers, more subscribers, more money.

Soon, just the two of them weren’t enough. Their viewers wanted to see Peter with other people – other daddies –  and Beck saw another opportunity to increase his profit. Peter was strongly against the idea at first, it felt too much like prostitution, which was where he wanted to draw the line, but, again, Beck sweet-talked him into it.

It’s nothing like prostitution, honey, he said. I’ll be there the whole time, I’ll be the one filming and directing, I’ll be the one paying the other actors, all the profits are ours. How is that anything like prostitution? It’s just like what we’ve been doing so far.

So not only there were a bunch of videos of him and Beck out there in the world, there were also lots of videos of him with other men, some of whom were old enough to be his actual dad. There was even one video in particular that he was specially embarrassed by – and sadly enough, that was the most viewed one so far. It was fucking humiliating.

At some point, Peter should have realized it became all about money for Beck – and maybe it had been like that all along, he just hadn’t noticed before. Over the last few months of their relationship, they never had sex just for fun, just for the hell of it. There were always cameras, and lights, and roles to play. Beck never said he loved him anymore. Barely touched him. Barely kissed him. He should have seen it coming. He had been too blind, or just… Didn’t want to see what was happening right before his eyes. He ignored all the signs. The voice in the back of his head telling him something was off.

But anyway, porn. Could he still do it?

“I don’t know,” he answered, finally. He looked at his best friends and sighed with a shrug. “To be honest, it was never something I enjoyed, and I don’t know if I could ever do it without him somehow involved, you know? I did it with him because I felt… Safe? I don’t want to get involved in the actual porn industry, I’ve heard some pretty fucked up stories.” Peter had heard horror stories about other boys in the industry, and even though his own story was no fairy tale, there was nothing so bad that it couldn’t get worse.

“How about Just4Fans?” MJ asked and both Peter and Ned turned to look at her in shock. “What? You guys were pretty popular, right? You won awards and shit, so there must be at least a few hundred people out there who would pay money to see some dirty pictures of you, maybe some short videos. That way you won’t need to go into professional porn and you wouldn’t need a partner, but you could still make decent money. And fast.”

Well, it actually made sense. It wasn’t like there weren’t hundreds of videos of him being fucked raw all over the internet, anyway. A few dirty pictures couldn’t hurt. And besides, it didn’t need to be forever, just until he figured something out.

“That’s… actually not a bad idea,” he conceded, drinking the last of the wine in his glass. MJ sympathetically filled it up again and he mumbled his thanks.

“What do you think he will do now?” Ned asked carefully, and Peter shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time. There was so much he didn’t know.

“Probably keep shooting videos with his new boy-toy.” He managed to say it with a steady voice, but his eyes burned. He still couldn’t believe how… replaceable Beck thought he was.

When he noticed them interacting online a few months earlier, before the boy was even eighteen, Peter was alarmed, but when he confronted the older man about it, he said he was crazy and seeing things, picking up fights for no reason. He always twisted things in a way that, somehow, Peter was the one apologizing to him in the end.

Months later, just weeks after the kid turned eighteen, there he was – homeless, penniless and lost – meanwhile the other guy was probably getting comfortable in his bed. If Peter didn’t hate the kid, he would pity him. In a few years, he would probably meet the same fate.

“Do you think he would take the videos down if you asked?” Ned asked, and Peter scoffed.

“Yeah, right, those videos will still make him a lot of money monthly, he’d never delete them.” And Peter would have to live with the fact that he would always be just one google search away from complete humiliation and exposure. If he ever tried to get a serious job, those videos would stand in the way. If he ever managed to meet somebody decent and good, those videos would be a testament to what sort of person he was in the past. Fuck, some of them were really fucked up.

“So… Should we create fake twitter accounts to trash talk his short dick or what?” MJ was already grabbing her phone and Peter laughed halfheartedly, shaking his head.

“He’s not worth it. Karma will take care of him, I’m sure.” He drank the last of his wine and whimpered sadly. “So… Can I crash with you guys for a few days? I promise I’m not gonna overstay my welcome! I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the Just4Fans thing works out.”

“Of course you can, nerd, stay as long as you need. We’ve got your back, c’mon.” MJ got up from her stool and gestured for him to do the same. “Do you mind taking the couch?” She asked as she headed to her bedroom in the tiny apartment.

“Not at all,” he answered with a sigh of relief, then went to grab his suitcase by the door. Three years together and that was all he had to show for it. A single suitcase with a few changes of clothes, after being kicked out of the house on a cold February night. His eyes burned but he took a deep breath, blinking them rapidly to avoid the tears.  

“Then make yourself at home. Our casa es su casa.” MJ placed a pillow on the couch and handed him a thick, warm blanket.

“We’ll figure something out, okay?” Ned clasped him on the shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

“Okay.” He sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his crushed chest.

He waited for his friends to go into their respective rooms, waited to hear their quiet snores, before he allowed the tears to run freely down his face, replaying everything Beck said to him when he kicked him out.

Before he knew it, he was a sobbing a little, so he buried his face in the pillow to muffle the noise, as he tried to convince himself that things were going to be okay, that he was going to be okay. But at that moment, that was hard to believe.

[nobodies-png]

Okay. So this is like, the funniest prompt that I found, wrote a bit for, and forgot about. I wrote it for a different fandom, and then thought "Organization XIII would be funny for this..." Org. XIII is turned into children and now the Reader has to (make sure they don't die) take care of them. Ages like... 4-9 because that's when children are the funniest. Do what you will with it

ngl im a sucker for old cliche prompts like these, every fandom has at least an au for this specific setting or some kindergarden au lolol

anyway here’s some HCs as to how they’d act and stuff !

Xemnas :

One of the oldest kids, but you don’t really know what to make of him. You were expecting Xemnas to still lead the rest, scare them into submission with a simple glare or something - turns out he’s rather timid. Barely speaks, you get the feeling he’s ignoring you on purpose, just makes a lot of faces and noises to indicate what he’s feeling. 

Somewhat clingy too, but unlike Demyx and Xigbar who want to get your attention through any means possible, Xemnas just grabs onto the hem of your shirt and follows you everywhere in silence. Doesn’t cause much trouble, but he doesn’t help you keep the others in check either, a true neutral I guess. 

Sometimes, he will just disappear and show up whenever you least expect him. Loves to climb and sit on tall places. Spaces out a lot. Compared to the rest, you can probably leave him to his own devices, as long as he’s not left alone with Xigbar or Larxene. 

Xigbar :

Actually the oldest, but pretty annoying and high maintenance. If he got on your nerves as his regular self, then you’re in for a fucking ride - this Xigbar is here to cause problems on purpose. He likes to talk, a lot. And it’s sucks because it’s usually endless and mindless chatter or pointing out everything that he sees. 

If he starts to get bored, he’ll scurry off to bother someone else, but it usually ends with someone crying or hurt. Don’t even bother keeping him on a leash, the bastard is too smart to be contained. 

Xigbar is one of those kids that can be extremely useful if you get him on your side, as he has no problem snitching and ratting out the others. The best way to keep him from losing his other eye or gouging out someone else’s is to bribe or trick him into helping you (just know that he can also be bribed by the other kids, Xigbar WILL betray you). 

Xaldin :

You expected Zexion to be the loner type, but turns out it’s Xaldin - he’ll always be on his own or avoiding the others, usually around the kitchen since you’ve banned everyone from going in there until they return to normal (not that they listen to you, but oh well). 

Xaldin is pretty much like those kids who hate being treated like kids and who pretend to be above the rest. While he might seem calm, it’s really easy to get him riled up, a simple “I bet you can’t do this or that” and he’s off to prove himself. 

Oddly enough, he gets jealous easily - if you give Roxas a cookie or whatever for behaving, then you GOTTA give Xaldin one too or else he’ll throw a fit. The best thing you can do with him is be honest and confess that you need him to chill the fuck out and Not Die :tm: while you take care of the others, he’ll feel all grown up because you told him the truth and will calmly stay in his room. 

Vexen :

One of the oldest kids, the stereotypical kid who only has ONE interest and won’t shut the fuck up about it, which is cute but not everyone has the patience to sit through a 6 hour talk about dinosaurs. You never expected this baby Vexen to be so into dinosaurs out of all things. Of course, just because he only talks about them, doesn’t mean he’s not curious about all that shiny lab equipment. 

You can’t keep him distracted with dinosaur books all day, he still has the heart and mind of a scientist ! Because he’s a very obvious nerd, he’s the target for a lot of members in the organization, namely Larxene - and when Vexen gets flustered or frustrated, he freezes up. Literally. He WILL freeze the entire room too.

Your best bet is to pair him up with Zexion or Xion, since they’ll gladly sit down to listen and learn. The three will gladly stay locked up in the library learning and reading. You just gotta hope Vexen doesn’t instantly crush Zexion and Xion’s dreams by ruining their fairytales with facts and logic.

Lexaeus : 

Also one of the older kids and the tallest too. This Lexaeus is just as stoic and intimidating as the original, but apparently he’s also very sensitive. Everytime he speaks to you it sounds like he might be about to cry. But he looks fine ? So you really don’t know what to do about him. 

Either way, Lexaeus is also very helpful and responsible, so you can trust him to watch over the rowdy kids and keep them relatively safe, just try not to pair him with the suuuper loud ones. 

Probably the type to take the blame and responsibility for any pranks gone wrong under his watch, even if you fully know there’s no way he’s responsible. Lexaeus is the epitome of “I just want everyone to get along”. Somehow, he’s very gentle with the others (as gentle as one can be when straight up dragging Xigbar out of the ventilation system) but he’ll break any toys and other items given to him.

Zexion :

Zexion is very very small, so you can probably understand the stress he’s going through, surrounded by these animals. Like Xemnas and Demyx, he’d be pretty clingy but he wouldn’t be able to follow you around or cling to you with all the others pushing and fighting around. 

So you can either just carry him on your shoulders or leave him with Lexaeus or Vexen as mentioned before. If not, Zexion will wander and either fall asleep in the Grey Area or find the library on his own. 

Not a problematic child, really. Zexion lacks the energy and the feralness to join any shenanigans - he's also smart enough to know that he’ll be better off listening to you and staying clear out of safety hazards. Though there’s always the chance of other members taking advantage of Zexion’s naive and curious nature.

Saix :

You were expecting him to be a tiny version of his regular self, bitter and strict. Surprisingly, he’s way more fun as a kid, glued to Axel by the hip too. They’re the duo you should look out for - Axel is the one who gets them in trouble and Saix is the one who makes sure you never notice they were behind it all. 

The one with a TERRIBLE temper right after waking up. Saix won’t hesitate to bite and claw anyone who tries to wake him up, even Axel knows better than to try. If it’s nap time, let him go, don’t even try to stop him. Don’t let anyone else near him.

Other than that ? A very nice kid in general, he feels a sense of responsibility when it comes to the younger members, so he’ll be the one to keep Axel in check whenever Zexion, Roxas or Xion are around. As for the older ones ? They’re on their own.  

Axel :

Axel is the first one to say “fuck” and it spreads like wildfire. So if you start hearing a bunch of kids swear at the top of their lungs, you know who caused it. You’ll also know because you’ll find him laughing and wheezing on the ground. 

Somewhat naive, if you tell him he can’t say “invertebrae” because it’s a swear world, he’ll believe you. But SURPRISINGLY he’s very aware of how dangerous his fire powers are - like, Axel wants to cause trouble on purpose, but he doesn’t really want anything to escalate and get anyone actually hurt. Unless it’s Vexen. If it’s Vexen, then it’s fine by him. 

You might hear “Y/N, LOOK” before seeing Axel in the kitchen casting fucking Firaga on a bag of Totinos or something. He and Demyx somehow keep getting targeted by the Dusks, who love to play pranks on them. 

Demyx :

Most likely to eat food off the ground, or anything shiny and colorful, really. He has the exact same vibes as the little brother who likes to follow people he thinks are cool to try and impress them, just to be considered a cool kid too. 

Demyx is very clingy but also a sneaky kid, he can easily cry his heart out so you’ll pay attention and protect him from people he’s pissed off. This is literally why most of the kids don’t like to be around him, cause he’s THAT kid who will ruin everyone’s funs by calling the responsible adult if he gets upset.

Instead of being musically inclined, Demyx just makes a lot of noise - constant loud humming, blowing raspberries, stomping his feet or tapping/hitting things, repeating funny noises or phrases he picks up. Probably has an old ass iPod or an MP3 you can distract him with.

Luxord :

DO YOU KNOW THOSE LITTLE KIDS WHO ARE SMARTASSES ? The ones who act like they know the mysteries of the world and give you a look of superiority because you clearly don’t know what tubby custard really is ? Yeah, that’s Luxord.

Full of fun facts that he LOVES to brag about, but most of them are fake and he’s none the wiser. You cannot correct him either because it’ll be like telling an 8 year old that Santa isn’t real. Thankfully, you don’t HAVE to correct him because that’s what Xaldin is for. 

Most likely to steal Xigbar’s eyepatch for himself and somehow convince everyone else that it was HIS eyepatch in the first place. How ? We don’t know, we just don’t know. Also Luxord might just steal little trinkets from everyone and stash them under his bed like the little creacher he is. If you can’t find your keys, you know who’s got em.

Marluxia :

A natural big brother figure. Very understanding too, even if you’ve heard from Larxene that he’s tired of everyone pulling his hair and that he might shave it all off just so they all stop. Yeah, there’s some lingering resentment in there. He’s 50/50 on being a little bastard and an angel.

Marluxia volunteers to help you take care of the other kids, mostly because he likes bossing others around and because he also likes reading books to Zexion and Xion so they fall asleep. 

LOVES to leave trails of petals and flowers wherever he goes, but REFUSES to clean up. Always seen with Larxene - Marluxia is also lowkey competitive so he sees the Axel + Saix duo as rivals. In what, exactly ? Who knows. VERY picky with food too. Actually, just very picky and petty in general.

Larxene :

The one kid who develops a personal vendetta against you from day 1. Larxene DESPISES being told what to do, so if you’re constantly telling her not to do this, to do that and whatever, she will make your life a living hell and do the opposite out of spite. 

You didn’t hear this from me, but Larxene is GENUINELY upset that she keeps accidentally zapping people whenever she plays with them. It’s really hard for her to apologize too, so you’ll have to step in a lot to de-escalate the situation.

Larxene sticks forks in outlets JUST to scare others, since she cannot get hurt at all by electricity. She just seems to enjoy making others afraid.

Roxas :

One of the youngest, Roxas doesn’t KNOW what “using your indoor voice” means, he’s either DEAD quiet or SCREAMING about how he’d like to have ice cream as a treat, please and thank you. It’s really fucking funny to see honestly. Just make sure he doesn’t sneak up on you and scare you shitless.

The type who gets dragged into shenanigans rather than cause them - he’s a very neutral and calm kid otherwise. The worst thing he can do is just steal everyone’s dessert or something because of that intense sweet tooth he’s got.

A lot of the older kids LOVE trying to get him and Xion to laugh, because Roxas has this permanent poker face AND because they both have really funny snort giggle laughs. 

Xion : 

Also one of the youngest, very sweet, patient and polite ! Xion also tends to be very clingy, always needing to hold hands with someone whenever she walks around Castle Oblivion. No one has the heart to tell her no, either.

Can get VERY VERY irritating and angry when someone tries to make fun of her or Roxas. Like a little hurricane of puppies - Xion won’t stop pestering all the meanies until she’s received a proper apology. If she somehow ends up hurting someone, she’ll insist on making up too.

Xion also tends to copy people she likes, similar to Demyx. You might catch her imitating your movements or way of speaking, or even copying the Dusks’ movements - but just make sure she doesn’t see you, Xion will explode out of embarrassment.

[illneverrecover]

the sweetest thing (M) | myg

➛pairing: Min Yoongi x reader ➛genre: florist!Yoongi, baker!Reader, florist AU, baker AU, enemies to lovers, humor, smut. ➛word count: 4799 ➛rating: M ➛warnings: not too many, this is pretty sweet & soft. Heavy petting, cursing, making out, neck kissing, biting/marking, icing used in a dirty manner, implied sex, mild dirty talk, bad puns, witty banter. ➛summary: Min Yoongi was sure you moved in next door to his floral shop just to ruin him and his business. But when he needs your help, he realizes that it’s much sweeter working together then apart. ➛notes: Hehehe. My sweet little angel bb Paril requested some florist shop Yoongi E2L with baker reader, and I just had to oblige. I love writing Yoongi, he truly just is perfect for me to channel sass and sarcasm and a bit of sweetness. Thank you for commissioning me @serensama​ (and the kind bank of @quinnkook​), I hope you enjoy this and that it’s what you were looking for! I love you tons and I’m proud to be your soulmate. 🖤 ➛song: People - AGUST D for the sweet fluff  & Poison - GOT7  for the dirty dirty.

“She’s doing this on purpose.”

“No she isn’t, hyung. That doesn’t make sense.” Namjoon picks up a rose, twirling it in inspection. “Does she even know you exist?”

Yoongi scoffs then, eyes darting from the arrangement in front of him to glare at Namjoon. “Of course she knows I exist. Our shops share a wall.”

Instead of replying, Namjoon rolls his eyes before refocusing, carefully watching the stem as his hand slides the knife down it to remove any thorns. Yoongi accepts his silence as defeat, puffing his chest. “So, like I was saying - she’s doing this on purpose, and she’s going to bleed me dry.”

The door swings open then, Hoseok and Jungkook both moving to the workstations with arms full of supplies, the latter’s eyes wide as he picks up on the conversation.

“Wait! Are you talking about Y/N noona?”

“Yes, and how she’s killing business-”

“Isn’t she just the coolest?!” Jungkook interrupts, beaming over at Yoongi. “Have you seen the designs for her flower cookies? And how she’s selling twelve of them in a pack and calling them ‘coo-quets’? Get it? Like instead of-”

“Bouquets, yes Jungkook, I get the pun.” Yoongi mutters dryly, setting the finished arrangement in it’s vase and sliding it to the side. Hoseok is laughing, so hard in fact that he misses Yoongi picking up a roll of tape until it beams him in the head.

“Hey! What was that for!” rubbing his crown, he glares at the florist before reluctantly picking up the tape, fixing the customer label to the side of the vase before moving it over to the fridge. “Don’t be violent with me just because you have the hots for the pretty baker next door.”

Yoongi sputters, hand slapping the top of the table. “I do not have the hots for-”

“Yeah yeah, we know, you definitely aren’t into Y/N, at all,” Namjoon deadpans, reaching into the box for his next rose to dethorn. “You don’t find her attractive, you didn’t stalk her and pretend to be a customer just so you could see inside her business, absolutely nothing to see here.”

“Your sarcasm is noted and also not appreciated,” Yoongi sniffs, before turning away from the taller man all together. “All I’m saying is, ever since she moved into that building, she’s caused issues. And now this is how she decides to promote for the Spring Blossom festival? It feels like an attack.”

“But hyung, it’s called the ‘Spring Blossom Festival’, I think leaning towards flowers would be kind of an obvious choice, right?” Jungkook prompts, head tilting in naive innocence. 

Yoongi sighs heavily, head dropping to his chest, and wonders not for the first time why he thought hiring his friends to work with him was a good idea. 

Maybe Jungkook had a point; maybe they all did. But that wasn’t enough to convince Yoongi that your motives were all sincere in nature. He was telling the truth when he said that ever since you had moved in next door, things had gone haywire for his small, locally loved floral shop. 

He had only been in the space for about a year, but the street it was on had picked up in popularity with a new pub and restaurant concept on the corner, and a local farmers market moving in on the weekends. Quickly, his little business grew, people coming to him when seeking unique arrangements that were both beautiful and affordable. As demand increased, so did the need to hire more hands, and his friends had been enthusiastic to join his payroll. 

For the most part, things had been smooth sailing.Training the others had been relatively easy, and what shortcomings they had, he was able to find a new strength they each brought to the business. He was comfortable, thriving, going to bed with a full belly and fat wallet, and it’s all he could ask for.

Until you.

Yoongi didn’t even see you until after you had already bought and renovated the building next door, the sign for your bakery going up and accenting the coral pink of the painted brick perfectly. He had thought it was cute; how bright and cheery your shop looked, how you were always dressed in flattering sundresses and heels, despite spending your days in a kitchen baking. He walked past your place daily to get to his own, and had found himself curious about what you were like, how good your food was, how successful you’d be.

He figured the aesthetic alone would bring in some customers, if not the increased foot traffic the farmers market brought in, and he wasn’t wrong. Your soft opening had gone well, a small line forming outside the building to Yoongi’s amusement. Word of mouth worked like a charm in your neighborhood, and a steady flow of regulars would greet him on his trek into work each morning at sunrise as they awaited their breakfast pastry and hot cup of coffee.

While this was great for you, it wasn’t so good for him. Your customers would always line up in the direction where they would block his window, meaning people walking by couldn’t get a glimpse at the creations he had displayed in the windows. Not to mention the littering - flurries of light brown napkins with your logo stamped in the middle usually lining the street in front of the shops, seemingly taunting him.

And then, the festival came. The Spring Blossom Festival, to be exact. 

It was clever, he’d admit that much. The word play of ‘cookie’ and ‘bouquet’, the different color options of the edible flowers painstakingly drawn onto perfectly baked sugar cookies. You had really put thought and effort into the design, and he wasn’t surprised that it seemed to be a hit, dominating the first several days of the festival.

But that didn’t mean he liked it.

He watched helplessly as his sales dipped, as customers that would’ve wanted the real thing instead switched it up for prettily decorated consumable flowers, all cooing and preening over the treats in their matching boxes.

Yoongi had to retaliate. What else was there for him to do?

After watching you hang neon pink flyers up around the street, he had made some as well, deciding he’d place them conveniently directly over your own. Matching the paper to yours had been Namjoon's suggestion, and Yoongi had thought it was genius. That seemed to bring in a few more customers, but the lull still remained, his till and bank account making it painfully apparent.

It had been Jungkook's idea to photo bomb some of your promotional pictures when he spotted you posing in front of the shop, pristine desserts in hand and a floral dress on to match. Yoongi had shook his head but ultimately agreed, handing him one of his best designed bouquets and nudging him towards your bakery. Trying to make it look natural, he strolled back and forth in the background, making sure the flowers in his hand were always towards the camera, that he looked as if he was enjoying the festival as a patron. After about the fifth pass through, the boxy lipped young man taking your pictures had scowled, shouting after him to get out of the way. You had laughed, invited Jungkook to talk with you, even posted one of the pictures with him in it on your Instagram like it hadn’t phased you at all.

Now, here he was with only two more days left of the festival - a time that he should be making double - and with nothing more to show for it. Pre-made and custom bouquets lined the shop windows, hoping to entice anyone passing by, but most remained untouched and without a home to go to.

He was desperate.

"Why don't you just go talk to her?" Hoseok interjects, an eyebrow raised. "Maybe you can explain what's happening, see if she'd be willing to help out or team up or something."

Scoffing loudly, Yoongi kicks at the ground. "Team up? You think I want to team up with her? This is a serious business I run here, you know."

Hoseok gives Namjoon a passing glance over the blonde's head, not that he notices, too stuck inside his thoughts. It's Jungkook's loud voice that breaks the silence once more.

"Y/N noona is really nice, you know. And her cookies are so yummy, I bet she would love to help us!"

"You've tried her cookies, Jungkook?!" Yoongi’s voice raises, incredulous. "This is a sudden yet inevitable betrayal, you know. It really be your own friends."

"Seriously, Yoongi. You think she's cute anyway. Might as well go over under the pretense of business and at least see if you can score her number." Namjoon deadpanned, dropping his knife and making sure to show him every ounce of pleading desperation on his face.

Yoongi ponders for a beat or two, pretending to mull it over all the while recognizing that it couldn't hurt anything to go chat with his new neighbor, introduce himself. Who knows, maybe there was a deal to be made?

You thought he was so cute, the grumpy little florist next door.

His mouth was perpetually in a pout, bottom lip upturned enough that it made him look like he was always inspecting, always exasperated. His eyes were sharp, but not in a judgmental way - more like in the way where you knew nothing went past his scrutinizing gaze, and they were offset by the soft white blonde of his hair, in the refined silver hoops that lined his ears. 

Your neighbor Yoongi was a walking contradiction, and you couldn’t help but to be charmed by him.

You had heard rumors about him, heard people's worries of you moving into the building next to his very popular floral shop, but you didn't pay them any mind. You had yet to meet someone that you couldn't make a friend, and if he was impervious to your charms, he definitely wouldn't be able to deny your best coworker, Taehyung, and his infectious personality.

But despite your attempts, you always seemed to miss him, unable to properly introduce yourself when he bustled by during the morning rush, or when you were cleaning up shop. It didn't stop you from observing, from watching the way he eyed your building, the way he'd upturn his lip at the line forming outside the door at daybreak.

He seemed so easily ruffled, so annoyed but in this endearing way, and you couldn't help but want to get to know him, to see if you could get him to open up.

Especially once he started his attempts at sabotage.

They had been subtle at first - the flyer trick something you wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been for Jin, who made sure to check and replace any torn advertisements at the end of each day. The designs had looked so similar that you didn't even double take until the elder had pointed out the word change, how the name of Yoongi's business adorned the top of the page. Jin's eyes were ablaze, but you had just laughed, instructing him to leave the ones he found alone.

But it made you more curious, further intrigued by your flower selling neighbor who took such lengths to garner business, and you couldn't help but want to see what he did next.

It had been Taehyung that grumbled about some tall dark haired boy ruining all your promotional shots, though he had smirked the whole time he showed you the images you ended up with. You recognized that he was a worker at the florist next door almost immediately, the immaculate arrangement he carried carefully in his hands striking your intuition further.

Finally, Taehyung had shouted at him, and you called the boy over to introduce himself despite his red cheeks and ducking gaze. You learned his name was Jungkook and that he was indeed a coworker and friend of Yoongi’s, and that he was just trying to help, though he wouldn't go into much more detail after that. You had chatted with him briefly, offering him a cookie for his troubles, and promised him that you weren’t mad about his attempts at photobombing.

And you were telling the truth - you really couldn't be annoyed at these attempts to thwart your advertising, instead laughing at each new picture, making sure you picked one where the bouquet was clearly visible behind you as you held an open box of 'coo-quets'.

It isn't hatred, you don't think, that drives your neighbor to do this, but you aren't quite sure where to go from here. He still hadn't introduced himself, and with how busy things were during the festival, you hadn't found the time to do the same either, working long hours to keep afloat with your orders and walk-ins. You wanted to ask him why he was so annoyed with you, what he had against your little bakery, but you told yourself there would be time for that later when the heat died down.

Not to mention, Taehyung had been chomping at the bit for an excuse to go introduce himself.

"Y/N," he whined, dragging the last syllable of your name out into an obnoxious tune. "I just want to go make friends! Why won't you let me?"

"Because someone needs to run the register for these customers, Tae. Jin and I are elbow deep in cookie dough, and Jimin can't run both sides of the counter himself."

The tall man sulks, bottom lip jutting out as his caramel hair flops into his face. "You have a point, I guess. But once the festival is done, I'm going to go introduce myself and invite them over for coffee."

You smile at him then, eyeing him from the corner of your vision as your hands continue to delicately trace colored icing on the cookies in front of you. "That sounds like a deal, Tae."

"Oh! Me too though!" Jimin shouts, turning from the counter to glance into the kitchen of your shop. Normally you'd have the doors to the kitchen closed, but with the day about to start, it made it easier to prop them open while you ran back and forth between the two stations. "I want to go say hi too. They look like really cool guys!"

I'd have to agree, you thought to yourself, picturing the sharp eyed man in your mind, but you stay silent.

To say you were startled when you heard a knock at the back door would be an understatement, even more so when you saw who it was - Yoongi, the pouting florist, blonde hair flopped into his face. He was wearing a fluffy white sweater, a dark green apron tied around his neck and waist, and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, like he had been prepping for hours - much like you.

With a single look, you shooed the other men out of the kitchen to the front, opening the door to your guest.

"Well hey! You must be Yoongi, I'm-"

"Y/N."

"Oh, I didn't know you knew who I was!" you smile warmly, gesturing for him to step into the kitchen.

"Well, I had seen you move in, of course. Plus, Jungkook hasn't shut up since he met you," he mutters, shaking his hair out of his face as he took several steps inside. "He's like a stray cat, you know. Once you feed him, he's your friend for life."

That made you laugh, a hand rising to cover your mouth, and you couldn’t help the smirk that follows. "Well, he was too cute not to feed. Is that why you're here? Are you another stray who would like to be fed?"

Yoongi’s cheeks flush then, a dusty red that you think would look perfect in the petals of a rose, and you promise yourself to try to recreate it in frosting later.

“Ha, that’s funny,” he clears his throat, hand coming to rub at the back of his neck. “Actually, I was coming to talk to you to see if we could make an arrangement, you know - as one business owner to another.”

“Is that so?” you raise a brow, hands resting at your hips. “And what kind of deal would that be?”

You're surprised at how honest Yoongi is when he explains his situation, lays his hardships bare before you right there in the stuffy heat of your kitchen. He does manage to at least look a little embarrassed when he admits what he did in order to ramp up business, and you can’t stop your heart from softening as he finishes his request, wringing his hands as he looks at you expectantly. 

“So, what you’re saying is - you want to work together, make something that the festival goers will love but will help both of our shops - is that right?”

He stands tall then, shoulders rolling back as his gaze pierces through your own. “That’s right. Think of it as a ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine’ type of deal.”

“Is this another cat analogy?”

Yoongi groans, and you giggle at the roll of his eyes. 

“I already regret this.”

Stepping closer, you peer up at the florist, watching the way his eyes widen at your proximity. “No, you don’t. And technically I think I’m doing all the scratching here, but that’s okay. I think we could make a good team, Min Yoongi.”

The event is crowded, more so than Yoongi could have ever imagined.

The tables he and you had placed in front of both buildings were stuffed with goods, the heads of your coworkers ducking back inside each entrance to refill them when they got low. Customers were milling about; some taking in the offerings, others lining up in wait to purchase, and the sheer number of people had Yoongi grinning widely.

It was your idea, of course - to offer up a half dozen flowers with a half dozen of cookies, the perfect set. That isn’t to say Yoongi didn’t help; the concept of decorating the tables and dressing formally to stand out being his own, as well as offering to match the flowers and cookies to each other. The red roses and pair set cookies were flying off the shelves fast, but so were the purple calla lilies and pink tulips, which made him smile. 

You had been more enthusiastic with the plan, gladly altering the designs of your ‘coo-quets’ to match, and it was clearly a smash hit. Yoongi thought back to how easily it had been to talk to you, to be honest, to spill his guts - how quickly you were willing to help, how natural it had been to form a plan, to laugh with you, and he felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

Yoongi was thrilled with the sales and popularity, of course, but found himself distracted despite the success. He was happy to see his employees grinning and getting along with your own, glad to see the till fill knowing that he’d be able to pay everyone on time, but more than anything, he was ecstatic to see you smile, to see you shine in the sunset pink summer dress that was brushing the tops of your knees.

He himself had donned some light grey dress pants with a white button down, the sleeves carefully rolled to expose his forearms, jacket long forgotten in the heat of the outdoors. You had beamed at him when he first arrived, nodding approvingly at his attire, and he couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his heart at your approval.

And now as the day wore on, every time his elbow knocked into yours, your bodies stepping and swaying as you worked, Yoongi felt a heat build; a sizzling lick of electricity that was sparking between the two of you that he couldn’t ignore.

“You know,” he leans in, mouth inches from your ear as you grin widely at a customer. “I think we do make a pretty good team, Y/N.”

He relishes in the way your skin warms, in the way he watches your cheeks blush so prettily at his words, and feels hopefulness tighten his chest. 

“We do, Min Yoongi, especially now that you aren’t actively trying to ruin me.” You grit between frozen teeth, your smile unwavering until the patron is out of hearing range. 

“Hey, I didn’t try to ruin anything-”

“Okay, how about ‘mildly inconvenience’ then?”

Chuckling, he raises an arm to rub at the back of his neck, and you follow the lines in his arm as he does so, watching the rippling of muscles beneath the cuff of his rolled up sleeve with interest. 

“I guess that’s fair.”

It was amazing how well things turned out, how fast the day had blown by. Jin had slaved away in the kitchen making sure that there were enough baked goods for everyone, Jimin and Taehyung teaming up with Jungkook and Hoseok from the florist shop to run items back and forth and greet customers. 

But it was Yoongi who had stolen the air from your lungs and any sense you had left rattling in your head. 

You could see now why his business had flourished before you arrived, why the customers continued to return to him when they needed their next arrangement. He was such a good and intent listener, his eyes sharp and focused on whomever was speaking to him. Even in the case of the event, where the flowers were pre-arranged, he still listened, shook and held the hand of each buyer as they spoke, fawning over his flowers. 

It was evident he was passionate about his business, which made the fact that he had been willing to do whatever it took - including partnering up with you - even more admirable.

 The sun was going down by the time things seemed to slow, your hands aching from the intricate icing work and feet throbbing from running around in heels. It seemed that everyone had satisfied smiles of hard work etched on their faces, and pleasant adoration inflated your gut at the sight, especially when you landed on Yoongi. 

The edges of his mouth had finally relaxed, his eyes creasing into half moons more and more as he laughed, stress leaving his body. It was a beautiful sight, if you could admit such a thing.

When the final customer waved goodbye, heading down to the main street for the firework finale of the festival, you left the giddy boys out front to begin cleaning, bones aching at the prospect of all the dishes that needed to be done, but not wanting to drag out the pain any longer than necessary.

“Need some help?” Yoongi was posed in the doorway, arm pressing against the jam, one leg crossed over the other, as if it was normal for him to be effortlessly handsome in sweaty bakery kitchens.

“That would be great,” you smirk, tilting your head. “I wash, you dry?”

And so that’s how you find yourself alone with Yoongi, sweat dotting his hairline as he gives you side glances and small talk over drying mixing bowls. You talk about everything and nothing, conversation flowing freely, and you feel drunk on his proximity, on the way he talks with his hands, the way his voice pitches when he laughs. His white button down is transparent in the spots where water had hit, and even the hint of a peak of his skin made you feel a bit dizzy. 

“Thank you for helping me with all of this, by the way. It would have taken hours to do by myself.”

“It’s no big deal. Plus, I’m sure one of those guys out there would’ve came back if you batted your lashes,” he leers, nodding to indicate the young men of both businesses that were currently playing around out front. “Especially Jungkook. He’s been all ‘Y/N noona this, Y/N noona that’ ever since he met you.”

Handing him a dish, you look up at him through your lashes, blinking coquettishly. “Well, can you blame him? I mean, just look at me. All this and I can cook? I’m the full package.”

You were joking; a teasing lilt to your voice as you refocused on the task at hand, but you could feel the intensity of his stare heating you thoroughly, forcing you to meet his eyes once more. 

“You really are,” he murmurs, voice low but clear, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re funny and talented and so smart that it’s kind of intimidating,” he looks back at the pot in his hand, drying it thoroughly before setting it aside. “But you’re also kind hearted, and willing to listen and help those in need, even when you barely know them.”

He turns then, stepping closer until his breath is fanning across your cheek, his arms caging you to the sink as you turn to face him fully. 

“Not to mention, you’re more beautiful than any flower I’ve ever seen.”

Dropping your head to stifle the giggles, you hear him wince loudly.

“That was pretty cheesy, huh?”

Nodding, you meet his eyes once more. “It was, but I have a few baking puns that will make you cringe.”

“Hit me with one.” 

Raising on your toes, you lean into him, tentatively placing a palm on his chest. “Is that a baguette in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

His shoulders start shaking before he lets out a loud laugh, smile widening to show his teeth in a way that made your heart flip. Catching his breath, he sighs, leaning to rest his forehead against yours.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Wanna find out?”

Kissing Min Yoongi was a whirlwind, a focused intensity pressed in a powerful dance of his mouth on yours. Your lips answered in kind effortlessly, needing no prompting to follow his lead, to pull his bottom lip between your teeth. Electricity sparks at the base of your skull with each touch of his pout, each lick of his tongue into your mouth, and you feel your knees threaten to give out as he cradles your jaw in his hand, holding you in place.

You aren’t sure when your hands had tangled in his hair, or when he had lifted you to straddle his waist, but you found yourself moving, his body twisting to place you on the cool metal surface of your work space. Hissing as the chill bit into your bare legs, you seek the warmth of his mouth harder, legs wrapping around his form to tug him closer to you, to grind your center against him. 

He’s hard, impossibly hard, and he’s whispering all the things he wants to do to you in the shell of your ear, promising all the things he’ll make you feel with his tongue, his cock. You pull him back to your mouth, kissing him deeper, gasping when he dips his finger in the open icing container on the table, dragging it from the edge of your lips down to your chest.

He trails down your throat, sucking and nipping a marked path to your collarbone, licking the frosting off as he goes -  as if it was the sweetest thing - until he reaches your breasts, cupping them. As you pant out groans of his name, you can’t help but think you’re glad that it’s Yoongi who’s hiking your dress up around your waist, that he is the first man to help you defile your quaint bakery’s kitchen, filling it with moans.

It isn’t until you stumble out just shy of an hour later hand in hand with Yoongi, smelling of sex with mussed hair and lips swollen, that you remember your coworkers - and that little window that shows the spacious floor plan of said kitchen. 

Taehyung is shaking his head, tsking quietly with his arm draped around Jungkook. “Shame on you, Y/N. Poor Kookie here was just trying to bring the tables inside to be helpful, and instead he got traumatized.”

Namjoon scoffs then, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t realize ‘getting a boner’ was now considered trauma.”

“Hey!” Jungkook yells, eyes darting between you and Yoongi. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”

Cheeks flushing, you stifle a giggle once more, looking over to the blonde man whose fingers were still intertwined tightly with your own. Instead of embarrassment, or concern, you just feel a giddy flush of joy as you lean into him.

Yoongi sighs, exasperated, free palm rising to rub at the back of his neck. “Remind me again why I don’t fire them?”

“Because you love them. And, they work for cheap.”

Chuckling, he turns towards you, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I always knew I liked you.”