#ALLIES TO ENEMIES TO WHATEVER THE FUCK THIS IS I love it

[citrus-cactus]

They're sooooooo catty in this ep I'm love them

[la2yn0va]

Hello there! Can I request some yandere Black Swan, Acheron, Jingliu and Kafka (self aware) x male reader who is single and has absolutely no experience in relantionship yet is down bad for them or has an interest for them

Call me crazy… I get a feeling you like women…

————

Black Swan

She automatically knows you like her. She feels your eyes looking down at her softly, the same way others look at her when they found her attractive.

And she is a bragging bitch about it. “Oh, his grace built you? Couldn’t be me~ he maxed me out immediately~”

She finds your inexperience down right adorable. The way you stutter at least thrice when she’s in your vision. The way your eyes shine when she talks.

When you eventually get dragged into the world of Honkai Star rail, she lets go of all restrains. With no shame she flirts with you EVERY SEXTILLION SECOND.

She makes sure your a flustered and blushing mess, rubbing against you so your hand grazes her chest area.

Getting close enough to make sure her breath attacks your neck and the her lips tickle your skin, while whispering provocative things into your ear.

She always steals you away from people any chance/time she gets/wants to. After all, you LOVE her right~? There’s no issues with acting as you girlfriend (unofficial)

Just to make sure no one interferes in your little sessions, she goes into glass paintings/objects with you (in her trailer she goes into things like glass paintings)

Her hands are always on you in some manner, weather it be romantically around your neck or your arms, or in a more sexual manner.

In short, black swan takes the lead in this relationship

Acheron

She’s pretty confused on why you’re acting different with her at first. However, after a few moments/after encountering firefly and the trailblazer on their ‘date’ she’d finally realize you LIKE her.

She acts more shy whenever your around her, she doesn’t really know how to interact with you. More so because she doesn’t know how to… react to your feelings.

Yes she loves you back, but she’s never had a crush/lover so she’s as lost and inexperienced as you.

Although others are jealous of her, they also find it pretty fucking cute, and make a whole ‘will they or won’t they’ game show.

In battle acheron will always crit for you, and when in idle she compliments you subtly. She doesn’t wanna scare you away.

The ancient scrolls say you believe their video game characters. so she’ll hide her time until you finally get transferred back here, to your real home AND to her.

And when you do get isekai’d by whatever fuckin means, I’d like to congratulate you, as you now have earned a VERY FUCKING SCARY GUARD DOG.

Acheron doesn’t leave your side for a second (unless you ask her to in which case she’ll stand BEHIND you. Or if your in the bathroom)

Acheron quickly learns how to show her love towards you through acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch.

She likes to hold your hand, and with no shame likes to proclaim to everyone that the two of you are an item. Which you don’t deny.

Acheron takes the lead in the relationship

Jingliu

The most normal about your attraction to her.

She’ll be honored that you love her, and shows it through ALWAYS crit damaging enemies and taking less health from her allies.

While in idle she’ll (like everyone else) will say a unofficial voiceline towards you, complimenting you and slightly hinting that she knows she’s a ‘video game character’

Another unofficial thing she’ll do while in idle is remove her blindfold and stare into your eyes lovingly YET respectfully.

When you get transferred into the game, it’s basically the same as acheron. But she’s more open and well normal about your relationship.

She’s slightly overprotective and possessive but that’s about it. She spends all her time by your side, weather it be in bed (get yo mind out the gutter) or IN bed (put it back in the gutter) or simply walking/exploring other planets.

She shows her love through..well everything. Acts of service, physical touch, gift giving, etc…

Overall not much to say here, she’s the most normal and a less scary (when not Mara-struck) acheron.

No one takes the lead, yall just switch leading roles every other day.

Kafka

Kafka is also very similar to black swan.

She immediately knows you love her, and she takes pride in it, after all who doesn’t? (Kafka’s the type to make gay men question themselves, as I myself can NOT attest to 😉)

Unlike her fellow…acolytes, she’s much more suave and blunt about her knowledge on your attraction. After all, your so adorable and cute for the god of gods (or as I like to refer to the reader who’s a god in self aware au—THE OMNI AEON)

In idle, she pulls out a blurry photo of your and kisses it while staring right at you. It’s blurry to you but VERY visible to kafka.

She’s also the only person in this who’ll outright state she knows she’s in a game and loves you (like sues in that one episode of gravity falls with his A.I yandere love)

Overall there’s nothing else to add here, she’s just another black swan when it comes to this scenario. OH wait no!

She uses her webs to manipulate you to dance gracefully with her and makes you touch her body while feigning innocence and teasing you.

She takes the lead in the relationship.

Okay I’m done. 4 or 5 more requests to finish

[tomialtooth]

Listen, I know why people like to have Adler and Bell get their own happily ever after where they can be domestic and in love or whatever. I understand the appeal. But man I NEED more of adbell being fucking weird and violent. The line between hate and love is incredibly thin further blurred by all the shit they did to bell's brain. They're enemies but also allies, then enemies again and allies once more. They're old friends, they've only known each other for a few months, they went through hell in Da Nang together, Bell has literally never been to Vietnam, Bell's a highly skilled professional Adler trusts the skills of, Adler literally does not think of bell as a person. And all of these are all mixing and overlapping. Give me the dubiousness of how much of Bell's attraction to Adler is genuinely his own versus how much of it was either accidentally or deliberately imprinted into his brain! If Bell has Adler's memories of Vietnam then part of Bell's personality and psyche is actually Adler's. And if Adler is attracted to Bell then this begs the question of whether or not Adler is actually attracted to Bell or rather to the reflection of himself within Bell?

[tryingahandinholdingapen]

unless explicitly stated otherwise, please assume that all my warring clans era aus include Hashirama and/or Tobirama working towards overthrowing Senju Butsuma and being absolutely justified in doing so

anyway. tobiizu au in which they're both sort of using each other but they both benefit so it's fine. specifically Izuna is like wow I'm so good at this we'll totally be able to defeat the Senju with this info/help! we've already managed to separate them from some of their allies! meanwhile Tobirama is there like I'm going to get a good mark in betraying my clan, something that is normal to want and possible to achieve-

(He's using Izuna to get rid of Butsuma's loyalists and/or members of his clan that can't be trusted/are far too casual about committing crimes that Tobirama and or his brother are Not Cool With. The allies that Izuna destroyed Senju relations with were actively betraying the Senju clan anyway but Tobirama hadn't been able to convince Butsuma that a) he was telling the truth about the betrayal and b) they should break that alliance off before it irreparably fucked them over)

Arguably Tobirama is kind of winning at the whole game of manipulating each other because like he's getting everything he wants, politically speaking. The Senju aren't exactly in a better situation than before he started leaking info to/helping Izuna (Butsuma's loyalists + war criminals or not, fucking over or outright killing members of your own clan is still not optimal) but nor are they in a worse situation (a lot of problems are being solved. mostly by telling the Uchiha "look at this shiny important thing" to get them to destroy whatever the problem is, admittedly). When Tobirama's finished with Izuna, Butsuma will be dead, Hashirama will be able to smoothly take over the Senju clan without significant loss in power/resources/reputation, and then Hashirama will be able to properly seek peace with the Uchiha who might even accept because they probably feel like they're winning/the Senju are losing

This isn't to say that Izuna is LOSING at the manipulation game, exactly? Like he may be unknowingly helping the Senju clan, but he's also NOT in any way fucking over his own clan, if anything he is also helping his own clan and like once they make peace (he will probably pitch a bit of a tantrum about this and possibly have to be bribed with a marriage to Tobirama or something, but it WILL be happening Izuna get over it-) any advantage the Senju have will kind of also be the Uchiha's by extension. So as far as the political + resource etc side of things go, Tobirama is definitely winning, but Izuna isn't quite losing

Also I think Izuna is definitely winning on a more personal level lmao he essentially has Tobirama wrapped around his finger by the end of all this. He's getting a lot of wins as far as their relationship kind of stuff and also getting Tobirama to do random tasks for him/his clan and prove his devotion/loyalty like noooo of course Tobirama isn't secretly a double agent for the Senju whatttt look he did all your random tasks and he loves you so much! So yeah Izuna is winning on the personal front. Though at least some of the time I think Tobirama definitely knows that Izuna is like, blatantly angling for something and plays along anyway despite not actually falling for it, which actually pleases Izuna even more

Hashirama does not know any of this is happening btw. Madara does, and most of the Uchiha for that matter (Izuna couldn't avoid fessing up to where he was getting all the info/how he was achieving things at a certain point) but Hashirama? Hashirama is in the middle of staging a coup + building up his own power base whilst simultaneously trying to convince Butsuma he's totally still loyal to him. Hashirama trusts Tobirama entirely so when Tobirama was like "don't worry Anija, you focus on our allies and I'll focus on dealing with our enemies" Hashirama essentially just went "okay <3 yay <3" and didn't think of it again for just, ages. If his brother says he's dealing with it he will! Tobirama is so smart and sneaky after all-

Can't decide if it's funnier if in the end it comes out that Hashirama had absolutely no clue what Tobirama was doing for him or if he's in like peace negotiations with the Uchiha and just rolling with it like yes obviously I knew about that thing my baby brother did last summer he acted with my full authority at all times (has no idea what event Madara is even referring to)

It's important to me that at some point when they're still Very Much at war and the Uchiha don't yet know what's going on with Tobirama seemingly switching sides, Izuna goes on a solo mission. Tobirama is also on a solo mission (may be a fake self-assigned mission or he may have just completed the actual mission way faster than anticipated and then not gone back to the clan yet after finishing) so he could meet Izuna. A couple of Uchiha had had another mission in vaguely the same area as Izuna and so decided "hey since we're meant to finish our missions around the same time why don't we find Izuna and all go home together?"

And that's how one or more unprepared Uchiha walk into a room only to see the White Demon of the Senju sprawled at their heir's feet on a rug by the fire, looking completely unphased by Izuna fucking with his hair/outfit whilst he recites Senju patrol routes (???) and weak points of the agreement the Senju have with an allied clan (?!?!) and their heir looks very pleased with himself but...not like any of this is a surprise occurence?...

Izuna and the Demon seem to notice them at the same time and the Senju cuts off his recitation in favour of them both staring at the Uchiha squad. Who stare back. After a few moments the Uchiha squad kind of awkwardly give a quick bow to Izuna and blurt out something about "nice to see you're fine after your mission see you back at the compound UH bye!" and just. Close the door and leave

(They can just about hear Tobirama resuming his recitation as they exit the building)

(what the hell)

This au ends with Konoha being formed partially on the basis of a marriage alliance (Izuna demands Tobirama be given to him and his request is basically immediately granted (Hashirama still doesn't 100% know all of what's been going on but he HAS managed to extract the information from Tobirama that he's been sort of kinda courting Izuna for years and the Uchiha had technically helped make peace, and that Tobirama "wouldn't object" if Izuna really wanted Tobirama's hand which from Tobirama is BASICALLY a full on romantic proposal with fireworks and all. If that's what his baby brother wants then that's what he gets!! Hashirama is so happy everyone's getting their happy ending <3) and it's all good

It should also be noted here that the Uchiha clan as a whole are mildly bewildered by this. Like they're not going to SAY anything because this works for them but... The Senju want to give them/Izuna Tobirama? Really? Are we just, ignoring the bit where Tobirama was actively betraying their clan for literal years, via Izuna? Okay then...

(The Senju don't care or are actively happy about it because at this point they're mostly composed of people who either simply do not give a shit about politics in general or the whole "betrayal" thing in particular, or like Hashirama view the "betrayal" as Tobirama actually doing the ultimate risky play to free them from Butsuma's Terrible leadership and bring them peace. The few dissidents are for the most part smart enough to keep their fucking mouths shut and those that don't learn quickly)

Anyway Konoha is set up with Senju and Uchiha being equal to each other (and other clans are also there + equal etc but that's not that important rn) and it's all good it's nice. There's actually very little trouble from warmongers or anything in either of the two founding clans? In the Senju they're mostly either afraid of retaliation (they're Aware of a tiny bit about what happened to Butsuma's followers okay) or have reluctantly been won over to "wow we're doing better than we were before, and I guess Hashirama+Tobirama aren't as bad as I thought...okay. I don't like this but I can live with it and see what they do next. On the Uchiha side of things, those who are still like "grrrrr kill all Senju blah blah blah" are mostly under the impression (due to the whole "betrayal" thing, the fact that Hashirama handed his brother over to him, etc) that they've actually successfully subjugated the Senju and the morons just don't realise it. This is factually incorrect but everyone else in the village has decided it's easier to not correct them about this because then the bitter bastards might start actually causing problems for peace; let them live in their delusions

Izuna gets Tobirama as his wife and absolutely tries to push any and every boundary and just generally get his way/manipulate Tobirama into doing v minor but vaguely demeaning or inconvenient things like, all the time. Izuna is NOT as subtle about this as he thinks he is but he will likely never learn this because Tobirama indulges him constantly; he generally finds Izuna's antics to be somewhere on a scale from "this could not matter less to me and therefore I don't mind" to "sexy" to "that's really funny actually" to "that's kind of cute in a stupid way/the same way a v small child or dumb animal is"

People who care about Tobirama (for example Mito, Hashirama, Touka) MIGHT be more concerned about the fact that Izuna and Tobirama are barely even trying to hide the fact that their relationship isn't exactly typical/normal nor healthy....except they both seem really happy? Also they RECOGNISE that look of fond/amused indulgence on Tobirama's face, tho admittedly previously when they saw it it was usually aimed at like, his summons or young students or something, but still. Clearly he's not actually doing anything he doesn't want to do or that distresses him so they'll leave their brother to his bizarre relationship

(Also the occasional sheer Glee or look of mischief or smugness on Izuna's face is kind of funny. He looks like a cat that Got Away With It it's hilarious)

People on Izuna's side of things (Madara, Hikaku, etc) are considerably less at ease about this because they do Not know Tobirama enough to fully understand his expressions or realise that half the time he's knowingly going along with Izuna's bullshit for his own amusement/pleasure/curiosity. This relationship is clearly neither normal or healthy! But like, IZUNA is clearly very, very happy and is perpetrating most of the unhealthy/obsessive/weird bullshit, meanwhile Tobirama+his people don't seem to be objecting to any of this so...uh...what can they even do here??? It would be weird to try to 'save' Tobirama from Izuna right? They shouldn't do that. Or maybe they should?... They're all kind of stressed about it and Madara in particular is also just Extremely Uncomfortable bc I've decided now that Izuna+Tobirama have not actually moved out (yet?) and so he's witness to just, so much more of their bullshit than anyone else and he wants NONE OF IT thanks

[b1rds3ye]

hi!! this is my first time doing a request so idk if I'm doing this right haha but uh, I was wondering if you could do like. yknow the masked one you made for the 141 (I can't remember the name rn💔)? I thought of like, a sequel idea. like, what if during combat an enemy manages to take reader's mask, and so reader panics and like, rips the enemies throat out with their teeth (or if that's too violent, just goes basically rabid on them lmao) and how they would react?? if this is too violent or specific dw you don't have to!! anyways, I love your content it's totally awesome ur writing is amazing! have a good day!!

YES I LOVE THE BADASSERY AND THE UNHINGEDNESS!! If I'm your first request I'm so flattered anon pls do feel free to drop by again <333 Also just going to do general rabidness because ngl the throat thing sounds like an infection speedrun and we want our masked reader to stay nice and healthy <333

Word Count: 1.2 (it got a little long WHOOPS)

Warning: Canon typical violence, reader does get a lil sadistic and unhinged <333

Beyond Task Force 141 and Laswell, many - if not all - allied soldiers wondered about what lay under your mask. Obscuring even the eyes, your visage was more unreadable than Ghost's. Larger than life, a soldier among men.

There was a running joke that there was just nothing under your mask, perhaps an eldritch horror of sorts. You let the new recruits entertain the thought, it kept morale up as they conjured more myths of you. They said that no one has seen you without your mask. They were partially right.

It simply was that no one lived to tell the tale.

You were never one for close combat, but fighting terrorists was never smooth sailing. The chaos of battle had all of the 141 separated against the tight streets of Las Almas. How uncanny that you could not see your allies but hear their gunfire. Running out of ammo, you couldn't lament at your misfortune as a shoulder pummeling into your chest, sending you to the ground and the air out of your lungs. Head bashing against the floor you groaned as you furiously clawed up to whatever heavy weight was crushing your body. You were starting to make up the figure of a man hovering over you through the blurry haze of a concussion that filled your sight. The distant static of Price's voice through the radio, probably asking where the hell were you but you had more pressing issues at hand.

Through your struggle and flailing limbs you managed to wring the enemy's pistol off of them with a painful twist of their wrist. And they retaliated tenfold, a large sweaty hand reaching down and pressing your head back against the ground. Your adrenaline makes you writhe further, he was going to suffocate you, or worse, poison you with how fucking awful his hand smelt as the stink of burning gunpowder replaced any of your oxygen. But no, he committed a far worse crime.

A singular pull and the grating tear of fabric as your mask is pulled off of your face.

A heavy moment where your enemy looks down at you and his gaze is not like before. It's clear, it's deep. It is not looking at your facade but at you and you are no longer a soldier. You are merely a human, so fragile, so weak. One that is on the verge of death in a foreign land surrounded by bodies of fallen comrades and enemies alike. One whose mythos is all but lost at the victorious and leering smirk of an enemy as they take in your face.

That simply won't do.

Pulling your knee up to create space between you and the man, you pull out your tactical knife from your waist and drive it into his torso. His smile falls only to land at settle on yours below him, just like his blood that trickles as forbidden crimson down your hands and seeps into your uniform. It's disgustingly warm. He grows heavier as he loses all control over his body and you heave to throw his figure off to the side. You stab him once again for good measure. And then again. And again. Quick, short jabs down with a sharpened blade that cuts through uniform, flesh and bone alike. You did not count how many times you drove your blade down, numbers were too complex when your mind was running faster than any comprehensible speed. There was only one goal. To make sure no one knows what happened.

A harsh grip on the shoulder yanks you back up and you swipe with your armed limb to cut your new assailant's neck but they were onto you. Catching your arm, they pull it up as they hold onto your shoulder once again with a tightening grip that digs into your uniform. But they do nothing more, no matter how much you thrash and kick.

"Wake up, Sergeant," your opponent seethes and that voice makes you still, a buoy that floats across through your rage. Deep and grounding and your captain's.

You nearly stumble back but Price catches you before you crumple to the ground in exhaustion. The adrenaline was escaping your body leaving you with barely the energy to stay upright. Your head lolls back for a second before you bring it to the side to look at your direct superior, the remnants of a concussion making your vision blurry.

"You broken?" he asks.

"Negative, sir,” you respond immediately but he looks a little doubtful, a singular eyebrow raised as he inspects you. Not your body, but your face. The dilated pupils and the taut muscles told more than any wound.

"Can't say the same about your wee friend over there," Soap whistles as he tilts his head to behind you. “Christ, you did a number on him.”

You dare turn to look over your shoulder but Ghost already situated himself in front of the body. But between his feet you could already make out the indistinguishable mass of tattered fabric and discoloured flesh. Fresh blood filled the rivets between the cobblestones, the remnants of the body inching its way closer to you-

"Was it the mask?" Simon brings your attention back to him. You nod dumbly. He only dips his head in what you can only describe as understanding as he folds his arms, fortifying his stance in front of the mess you made. You weren’t going to see your handiwork, he was too kind to ever let you.

John drops his hands down to his sides as Gaz approaches you with your mask.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Kyle offers you a sympathetic smile.

"Learnt that the first day I saw 'em on duty," Johnny retorts and you instinctively smile as you take your mask from Kyle. The hardened plaster of your mask had cracked, the fabric that hugged your neck had become torn but it'll do for the remainder of the mission. Slipping the mask back on, Simon offers a nod of approval while Johnny tugged at the fabric for a few finishing touches.

Ultimately the mission was successful. The task force returns to base and although none of the boys mentioned the carnage you left, there are still whispers of it on base. You had hurried to debrief and get your mask fixed but it seemed some privates caught sight of you and that was enough to spark rumours. Your mask had gotten so fractured that a shard was left back in the streets of Las Almas and revealed one of your eyes to the rest of the world. Such a small organ but so vivid. The privates saw, and more was added to the myth that was you. There was now no question about what was under the mask. No lovecraftian horror or empty space, no monster beyond comprehension. No, what was under your mask was terrifyingly human.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[yourlazykitkat]

Joel's celestial symbol being a car isn't complete crack and actually might be a good idea.

In Fast and Furious franchise, one of movies' climax have the characters strap jetpacks to a car which is strapped to a military aircraft in which two characters drive off and are sent into orbit. Yes this is thing that happens and yes, it somehow does perfectly capture the narrative of joel's victory and what it brings to the celestial symbolism.

I have never watched the fast and furious movies, all i know about this franchise is this scene and that it's about family and that's all you really need to know. But still, i shall yap.

The Fast and Furious movies are a perfect intertextual lens to view the Wild Life season and Joel's victory. The franchise has two highlights to it: the fucking spectacle and the interpersonal relationships. Did I enjoy the mechanics of wild life? Not particularly but I enjoyed the spectacle; the rush of I don't know what the fuck is going on but I'm here for the ride. Did I enjoy the storylines? There won't many clear and strong storylines this season as much as there were ever-resonating character beats that I ate up like it was the last supper. (JUST LIKE IN FAST AND FURIOUS)

Pearl and Scott reluctant allies and healing, BigB and Cleo healing, Etho's slut arc, Bamboozlers overcoming their character's persistent struggle with loneliness together, whatever the fuck treebark is doing, pearl picking her champion in impulse, grian losing his two wings. DESERT DUO DIVORCE ARC IS OVER? OMG DESERT DUO DIVORCE ARC IS BACK ON. Bad boys finally kill scott, shinyduo situtionship (going insane over them- i can't wait for more of them), tango and bdubz as angry wives and of course: The family.

Gem and Joel's alliance was the most stable alliance in the season. We made jokes about the 4Gs as they became the 5,6-7 Gs. They never knew who they truly could trust. Mumbo and skizz' paranoia might of been a joke but grian's curse did wipe them out in the end, martynn has forever ruined any trust in future alliances after limited life (especially given how he planned to betray ren in third life...) so i did not have any faith in treebark lasting. I don't need to explain tuff boys, etho was cheating on them to their faces and bamboozlers came close but any bamboozler fan will tell you how anxious they were that something would ruin a group. Look at Timmy on the high that he could finally win and break the curse, always running off carelessly. Scar, who was so desperate to win grian's favour that he was spilt between him and bamboozlers. Lizzie, who wanted to do anything but die alone but multiple times in the series, could not find her boys.

But gem and joel were always there for each other, their trust and love in the each other displayed for the whole server to see in the centre of the map (the most dangerous part). Not only did it help each other, they solidified so many other alliances that were shaky for so long (adopting grian when he's alone coz no one deserves to be alone, giving the Gs a common enemy to unite against, "we are bamily"). This perfectly encapsulates the fast and furious thematic core, we have no idea what' going on but we'll make our last stand together.

Very long-winded post, might come back later to fix it (i haven't had the chance to explore joel specifically and what this victory means for him) but even though it ruins the celestial aesthetic, the car for joel is so perfect. If u need it all celestial, the shooting star works pretty well in adjacent but it's so perfect for the wildest, most scuffed season to ruin the aesthetic of the life series BUT STILL BE THEMATICALLY COHERENT.

I have my complaints for this season and it did take me a while to decide how i wanted to approach the narrative of this season. Genuinely the more i think about it, the more i love the season.

[rewrittenwrongs]

Having thoughts about the League of Assassins. It’s pretty common among them to form hierchy/ranking around who’s a better fighter and who beat/killed who. I can’t remember if it’s canon but I like the idea that to prove your teacher has taught you all they have to teach you must kill them (not sure how that applies to history/math/whatever but. Moving on.) Working off of that idea, a lot of assassins in the organisation would already respect Tim for causing the death/defeat of the Council of Spiders; assassins that are so skilled they kill other assassins for fun. Him then TRICKING RA’S AL GHUL AND BLOWING UP (almost??) ALL OF HIS BASES, AND THEN OUTSMARTING HIM AGAIN WHEN HE TRIES TO DESTROY EVERYTHING BATMAN HAS BUILT, I feel like it’s reasonable to assume a lot of them would’ve decided Tim is the bigger threat or at least proved himself very formidable and a large threat. I imagine a lot of them would’ve sought him out in Gotham and pledged loyalty to him (kind of like Minions seeking out the evilest leader thanks for that thought brain), maybe doing full on traditional rituals to prove the transferring of their loyalty, like blood oaths or ritual spars idk, maybe giving him gifts or displaying their skills so he accepts them as allies rather than being disrespected and killing or maiming them since that’s the standard they expect in the League.

And Tim is uh. Very confused. Very surprised. And also trying hard not to show it. He accepts all the gifts and pledges and shit, because he sure as fuck ain’t gonna turn them back to Ra’s, but after that he doesn’t really know what to do with them. He hires a bunch of them at Wayne Enterprise and Drake Industries, tasks a bunch of them with working for Red Hood on the down low, maybe sends a couple on undercover missions to Arkham Asylum so they start treating inmates as actual human beings and stop using shock therapy or something, and makes sure to write them all up fair contracts and great pay with good work bonuses and plenty of leave, and makes sure most or all of them start going to therapy. The assassins love their new leader and would do practically anything for him.

But anyway, all that aside. I’ve had those thoughts in my head for more than a month. Something that just recently occurred to me is Mara al Ghul. Damian’s cousin. Another child raised by the League of Assassins, only this one never left.

Until, that is, she watches this freshly-immunocompromised vigilante arguably outsmart her grandfather twice, and decides he is the bigger threat, actually, I want to be on his good side when he takes over the world.

So now Tim is being forced into basically adopting this feral child, who’s only experience in American society was undercover missions to kill people, who thinks decapitated heads are reasonable gifts, who’s introduction to Tim was something batshit insane like dumping the Joker’s head in his lap because the Joker is Gotham’s most dangerous rogue and of course Tim will appreciate having him gone. But even with a well crafted facade she can tell Tim is unnerved and horrified, so she must be doing something wrong. Maybe it was because the Joker is Batman’s enemy and not Tim’s specifically? But Tim doesn’t have any arch nemesis aside from maybe Ra’s who she obviously can’t kill, so she does more research into Tim’s life and background and finds out Captain Boomerang killed his father so next she brings Tim HIS head and she can already tell he’s much more pleased this time. But there’s still that edge of unsettlement and wariness, and he’s acting so strange around her, so she digs deeper and finds out about the Titans Tower incident but Tim sent all these other assassins to work for red hood so they must be on good terms, and then she finds out about all the bad blood between him and Damian and Dick so she starts trying to kill them next, starting with Damian obviously (a mix of jealousy over him leaving the league and a good amount of cousin rivalry/cain instinct), but Tim stops the fight and tells her to stand down and now she’s scared that he’s going to punish her and Ra’s’ punishments were always so harsh and perhaps this time she can’t quite fight down the urge to hide.

Meanwhile, Tim is being dragged through a parent arc kicking and screaming, the bats are wondering why the hell there are suddenly so many assassins only after they scare off Ra’s, Jason is more or less vibing because he thinks the assassins are from Talia and the Joker’s dead so of course he’s ecstatic (even tho he wishes he knew who did it so he can thank them), Dick and Damian are still reeling from learning Bruce is alive/getting him back from the time stream when all of a sudden this masked child comes out of nowhere mid patrol and attacks Damian, and isn’t backing down even though Dick arrived quickly but when Red Robin arrives and yells stop she’s already three rooftops away by the time he’s done speaking. Everyone is tired and doesn’t know what the hell is going on except mayybe Oracle.

[mac-ann-cheese]

Some 19th century rusameamerus hcs!! (⁠゜⁠o⁠゜⁠;) and a little comic (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Today, I will skip over the entire revolutionary war+whatever happened in the world in 1812, and we are nearing the 1820s. Um, no, actually over 1825... Cause in 1822 there is Monroe's doctrine with the whole "you don't mess with my stuff, I don't mess with yours,” a hands-off policy in South America, as a reaction to plans of the Holy Alliance (Austria, Prussia, Russia) to discuss matters at the Congress of Verona on the Spanish question. Like they wanted to restore Spanish rule over Latin American colonies that had declared their independence. AnOpinions of the former 13 colonies were not asked. The USA might have plans for LatAme, how could they??????!!!!!

Okay, I'll stop with the historical stuff. I got sidetracked. Sometimes I start to act like Philomena Cunk…

The portraits are in the appropriate style of grand manner for 18/19 century. Highly referenced Joshua Reynolds. They're unfinished cause I got bored. Sorry! (⁠˘⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠˘⁠)

Anywho

Al and Ivan knew each other in the first half of the 19th century. They met and interacted; some points of friendship were gained. This is established, at least in my interpretation. After many times of proving his independence, Alfred is still being isolated by the Old World. Like they're aware of his existence and literally don't give a fuck about it. Many other things are happening on the continent; no time for new acquaintances. However, America wants to be included and to have friends!! So he is still stuck with his "sort of not fully an ally in independence war cause yknow we don't want the british to consider us as enemies too, so here are two ships if the shit hits the fan - use them" Ivan. A close neighbour from the north who started doing... something? in the icy part of the land (expansion, colonial adventure in Alaska). A BIG imperial monarchy with a good position in the Concert of Europe. Someone who probably knows a lot about diplomacy and other things on how to exist as a whole country. On the other hand, Russia isn't reluctant to have a nosy and too energetic creature around; of course, he is excited about a new friend. They see benefits in each other—"the whole world will open for me/I won't feel so lonely with him". Almost compatible with problems. This was probably curiosity at first sight. Major "why is that with him this way and not the other?" factor.

A hot new bombshell has entered the villa

The next bit might come across as too metaphorical and OOC. You've been warned.

Ivan sees Alfred (at least until the 1850s) as too nice, too innocent, and an overall pure being. A boy is so full of wonder and love for everything that it feels almost impossible. Ivan doesn't want that to change and is actually afraid of it happening, he tries to hold back Alfred from seeing the other harsh side of reality; nevertheless, Al wants to experience all - dirt, bliss, the world as whole. He doesn't want to be brought back to life, isolated from others.

After the 1850s, the situation changed. Ivan really appreciated Alfred's benevolent neutrality with the mess the Crimean War was; there is no secret in that. As a way of showing gratitude for it, he started inviting Alfred more frequently to his place. For tea, for hunts or even without a proper reason [yeah, it takes like a month to sail from one continent to another, inconvenient!]. And Alfred crushed. Real hard (regular oh, italicized oh). No other nation was treating him like that—"humanly". Everyone wanted something from him and wished for him to somehow change in a direction that was more beneficial for them. For Ivan, Alfred, as he was, was more than enough. America knew that he appreciated Ivan way before, but didn't give much thought to his feelings. He was capable of some sort of controlling it. However, now [as in the second half of the 19th century] Alfred cannot. He sighs too loud, looks too long, and smiles too much. Everything feels too much for him to handle. He tries to distract himself and pays attention to making new friends (cough the opening of Japan in 1853-1855 cough), but is still drawn to Ivan. However, the latter doesn't understand why America is suddenly more jumpy, more uneasy with him, and why his laughs are more strained. Although Alfred insists that everything is just peachy (he doesn't want to ruin this friendship with his weird feelings), Ivan's suspicion grows. He wants to know why but can't come up with a solution.

Their already interesting liaison transforms into more confusion.

And I consider hetamyu canon (cause musicals fill in all the missing plot points in manga, for me at least), sooo according to the second one, there was something peculiar between them (the infamous kiss scene).

Although I headcanon, at least for half of the 19th century, their friendship was childlike and mostly naïve. Ivan and Alfred are tall kids in diff ways. And I can absolutely imagine them playing tag or hide and seek. Though, this could have happened in any century.

In 1861-1865 they couldn't physically see each other (Alfred had to crawl in trenches), so their usual correspondence intensified (that sort of "absolutely not gay in any way" messages, like "my heart aches at the thought of your suffering, my dearest friend")...

Except for the late autumn of 1863 [the visit of the Russian fleet during the fall-winter of 1863-1864*]. Ivan paid for the first time in a while for a visit to New York (I like to think that Alfred stayed a lot of times in Saint Petersburg; however, Ivan wasn't that fond of travelling). Alfred was tired and pretty much beaten from fighting with himself; however, some obsessed excitement brought back his optimism for one night. At the ball they, as expected, danced a bit, and escaped to a more enclosed space from people and noise. Not much talking happened there; soothing silence at that time was needed. Of course Alfred was stressed because your own family literally wants to dismember you (don't know if I need to put a historical reference, but still—at the outset of the war, England and France supported the South. Napoleon III, with colonial designs on Mexico [Second Franco-Mexican War, 1861-1867], looked longingly on a divided United States, and British shipping interests were seriously affected by Lincoln's blockade of southern US ports, which led to the recognition of the Confederate states as belligerents. Russia supported the Union).

*I wanted to add here an actual fun historical fact! This “gesture” was interpreted by Americans as sympathetical move and overall a sign of “secret agreement” and Russia's protection of US Government (you can read about it further here: https://www.jstor.org/stable/25156012)

Not long after that, Ivan started viewing Alfred as more mature than he was before (Ame literally got torn apart in the Civil War, of course he boosted in character development).

I'll stop here (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

(They were literally bros before hoes....................)

I'll think about making other additions to this long list of headcanons about the start of the 19th century and, of course, the whole selling Alaska event.

For finishing reading this scientific paper-sized post, you'll get old sketches of Al (and Matt!!! Woah!!) in Victorian clothing.

trench coat buttoned to the TOP.

[smilingcrittersthingig]

I cannot keep doing this

Chat I cannot.

rant below beware, i get very angy

I know I made that post where I say I ignore comments talking about another ship on my art and use spite as a way to continue on

But there is only SO MUCH of “Catnap x Dogday is better!” I can TAKE

Guys guys, Daynap shippers, my brethren. Yes, I am one of you. I have a fanfic with Daynap, its not daynapping rn but its in the tags.

I love Daynap just as much as you guys do. But you cannot say that is the ONLY ship for Dogday and Catnap.

I understand you okay, They’re cute. But not everyone is gonna share the same opinion, they’re gonna wanna ship Dogday with Crafty, or Catnap with Bobby, or even Dogday with Allister, AND THATS FINE, ITS FINE TO SHIP SOMETHING ELSE, THATS NOT HURTING ANYONE.

What is very hurtful is you trying to undermine other people’s ships just because its not THE ship. That’s terrible! You’re terrible! Sorry you’re not but just behave!

Go look at other Daynap posts, there’s so much of that! There’s so very little of Suncross that I only find my blog when I search for it on google and god damn Icky x Alli porn. I already know your ship is better okay!? You and everyone else made that clear!! LET ME HAVE SUNCROSS IN PEACE.

Another one, “You cant ship them, the nc are teenagers and the sc are children”

Says who? Proof where? From last I remember they were ageless.

That’s a headcanon! You’re free to think about whatever you want, they could be adults, they could be children, you can even put them in a highschool, you can do that!

But its not canon. It’s not official. Your opinion is not a subjective fact, it is an opinion.

Good god I’m sorry but I feel like this is common sense, if you dont like the ship just ignore me.

I’m not doing art for your specific entertainment, I’m doing it for me

We need to get this straight, I’m first, you guys come a close second. I’ll do whatever you guys want but it’ll be because I want to.

You’re free to like, dislike, and comment anything too, but only if you’re respectful and not yelling at me that what you like is better

I like reading different opinions, what you think about them whether it’s siblings, friends, even enemies, I’m interested either way

but don’t call me a fucking dumbass and disregard my work.

Okay I’m done I’m done. Just needed that out my chest somehow. I’m fine

[xjulixred45x]

Choso and Little Sister! Reader

This was the Request of a lovely Anonnymous, i hope You enjoy it sweetie!(sorry if it's a little short!)

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: MANGA AND ANIME SPOILERS SPOILERS!!!, READ UNDER YOUR OWN RISK!!mentioned death, Kenjaku is a Terrible father, but Choso is a sweetheart. I think nothing more. Fluff.

you were another of Noritoshi Kamo's experiments.

You were the only girl, Noritoshi wanted to see if maybe using a female container would finally create something "interesting" to his liking.

but unfortunately (or fortunately) you did not meet his expectations in the slightest, even if you were more stable and humanoid than most of your brothers.

He wasn't disappointed, but he definitely wasn't surprised.

Choso, Kechizu and Esou tried to encourage you at the time, since they had all received similar treatment to you at the time and they wanted to help you not take it to heart.

Choso especially with his big brother complex had a great pleasure in comforting you, not only because of his burning hatred towards his father, but because in general he found that he liked the feeling of being loved by you.

You loved all your brothers, Kechizu and Esou also protected you a lot from Kamo.

They all had a certain special attachment to you, being the only girl, they felt like they had to protect you, you never felt excluded with them unlike with your father.

but eventually everything went upside down.

and then you were sealed with your brothers, for a long, long time.

but then you woke up.

and your first impulse was to see your brothers.

Fortunately (at the time) Kechizu, Esou and Choso were fine, but everything had changed drastically since the Edo Period. everything was so modern.

and humans were...well, normal. You knew you wouldn't have the chance to have a normal life being what you were. You weren't human or curse completely.

Choso had that same line of thinking, so he allied himself with Geto. I thought that this way they would have a better chance of living. a world for you...

but then Kechizu and Esou died...

and you could feel it very vividly when their lives ended...

and you felt horrible.

Choso did everything he could to comfort you, he would do what he used to do when they were young, end whatever had hurt them.

This Yuji Itadori and Nobara Kusigaki killed their brothers and hurt you, they will not come out alive.

Now it was just you and Choso. so he became considerably more clingy and protective of you.

nothing invasive, he simply did things like always go with you or not leave you alone with Curses that he considered "untrustworthy" like Mahito (rightfully so).

If someone (for example, Jogo) directly seeks a physical fight with you, Choso will practically teleport in front of you to cover you and HE will be the one to threaten him with Violence.

Nobody fucks when it comes to you.

You are someone curious, so you try to learn some things from humans, as part of you wants to be like them. Choso understands this and supports you 100% (although he sees it more as a way to "know how the enemy thinks").

HE IS SO GENTLE WITH YOU, if you insist on wanting to develop a cursed technique, he will teach you his Blood technique, but don't expect him to teach you more of the Theory (of the little he knows about his own technique), Choso will be breaks my heart at the thought of hitting YOU to train🥺

He just doesn't see it necessary at first because "why would you need to fight if I'm always protecting you?" But in an innocent way. He's just a little Paranoid and scare to let you on your own knowing what happen to your brothers.

Also, if he goes somewhere on his own, he brings you things that he considers "cute" or "girlish" (because he is still used to having only one younger sister), such as flowers, accessories, decorations, toys, etc.

Wildly protective, even over small things, you can't blame him after what he went through with his brothers. If you get into a fight with Jogo or Mahito, Choso-nissan is about to have a "talk" with him if you know what I mean.

If you manage to have a cursed technique useful enough to send you into combat, Choso will always be near you, without exception. And always with the same "it is my duty as the older brother to protect you"

Although the more experience you gain and the better you are at fighting, you and Choso develop an almost impenetrable joint fighting style. so he relaxes a little. not much, but a little.

If we go further into the story, you two were separated by the time he went after Itadori, although it wasn't exactly by choice, "Geto" said it was unfair that you both went, which is why you were originally going to take on Kugisaki.

but you got lost.

Now, I can honestly see Choso not letting you participate in the Shibuya massacre mostly out of practicality, so when you saw the amount of deaths they had caused, it really came as a surprise.

but when you felt something strange...

the same feeling as when they killed Kechizu and Esou...but this was not Choso...

You went to look for him, and when he explained the situation, it was a shock to say the least.

actually "Geto" was Noritoshi Kamo...

your father...

and Yuji Itadori was your younger brother....

It was a lot to digest.

but they didn't waste time going to confront him, after all Choso almost killed his/your brother!

(You definitely wanted Yuji to call you "One-chan"/"One-san" even just once, because for once you weren't the youngest sibiling).

(If, similarly to Choso, you are having visions of false memories where everyone is a happy family, this feeds EVEN MORE that need to hear it directly from Yuji. You want your cute little brother back :( )

With the addition of Yuji to the mix, everything becomes more chaotic, but in some ways, happier.

Now you feel like you finally have a responsibility, taking care of Yuji like a good big sister, so you constantly ask Choso for advice on doing so, which makes his heart MELT.

For Yuji it would be quite strange at first, but unlike Choso you don't seem older than him, but eventually he gets used to your presence, and since you didn't try to kill him, he warms up to you much faster.

If Yuji calls you "Onee-san" either to say that you're "something like his Big sister" or by accident, the boy won't let go of your hug (and additionally Choso, because he LOVES your hugs) for at least an hour. .

Choso continues to watch you like a Falcon. Even if you have Yuji now, he doesn't neglect you in the least. He tries to be aware of your emotions, especially with the losses that occur at that point in the story.

As I said above, one way in which you and Choso express affection for each other is through hugs, he is tall, so he gives the BEST BEAR HUGS IN THE WORLD and even though you are smaller than him, you give strong hugs, for so they use this as a great source of comfort.

It is a habit that you have had since you were "born" after all.

Yuji tries to teach you and Choso basic normal human things, which is pretty fun because it's like teaching an adult baby how to walk again🤣😅

(If you see The Human Worm you will definitely end up crying, you can't help it, you identify a lot with the main character)

Now that you have the chance, Choso is fine with you experiencing as many "normal" things as you want! whether interacting with other humans, having friends, having hobbies, etc.

He is happy to see you every day being happier yourself :,)

definitely big on preventing Kenjaku's comments from sticking in your head, he assures you that you are interesting and unique in your own way (and that Kenjaku is shit, so his opinion doesn't count).

I also think that at this point Choso would be more open with you with his insecurities, even if he wants to maintain the big brother image, he knows that you have the right to think for yourself and have your own point of view, and it feels WRONG to hide things from you.

He already feels bad enough for having taken the "easy way" due to the fact that humans wouldn't accept them, and that's why he left Yuji alone, and dragged you with him... dragged you to a life where you killed people, REAL humans...

but fortunately you were able to see things in a similar way to Yuki, yes, you are not human as such, but you two feel, you can suffer, you can be happy, you can empathize, isn't that enough to be human?

A part of you didn't understand. But you were there for you brother.

In general, Choso is a very loving older brother, who loves you with everything he is, he will do ANYTHING to protect you from everyone, Sukuna, Kenjaku, it doesn't matter, there will be no one to harm you, not with your older brother with you.

He loves you very much.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Thank You for the Request ❤️

[therenlover]

Always For A Second (Usually At The Start) - A Helmut Zemo x Reader fic

"And when I imagine life when it's mine / I can try to picture faceless folk to love a thousand times / But always for a second, and usually at the start / You're in the image posing with a cradled beating heart" - Katie Gregson MacLeod, i'm worried it will always be you

Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.

Tags: Explicit Smut (+18), Exes, Getting Back Together, Enemies to Lovers to Exes to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Switch!Zemo, Oral (Fem Receiving), Service Top!Zemo, Aftercare, Bucky is Mentioned Too Much

Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 8,600~

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

“I didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon, schatz,”

The restaurant was crowded enough that nobody heard Helmut’s words, curt and cloying and so fucking familiar. Still, my face heated. It always would for him, no matter how much my common sense protested by body’s reactions. How dare he be so damn effective at getting under my skin? 

Some over-expensive brown liquor sloshed against the rim of the glass in my hand as I lifted it less than gracefully from the table, dribbling down the edge of my mouth as I guided it to my lips and drank deeply. “For one, two years isn’t soon,” I started, swallowing. “Two, you’re the asshole who showed up in my apartment like a robber, which makes you the one who came crawling back. I was just nice enough to let you take me for a free meal to get you the hell out. Three,” I set the glass down sharply, “don’t call me that. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I still haven’t forgiven you,” 

“Apologies,” 

He didn’t mean it. 

“Still, it’s too soon to expect any sort of kindness from you,” he continued, “If I recall correctly, you said you’d rather die than suffer through another night with me for the rest of eternity. I believe an eternity has yet to pass… and yet, here we are,”

His matter of fact tone left little up for debate, unless I wanted to reach for my fork and maim his smug face. Instead, I bit my tongue and swallowed another mouthful of whatever I was drinking.

For once I was glad to be surrounded by the kind of noisy, faceless jumble of humanity that usually made my skin crawl. F. Scott Fitzgerald was on to something with his theories on large crowds and intimacy; there was no better place for two war criminals to meet than the corner booth of a hazy restaurant, lounging and drinking, covered by the blanket of sweet anonymity. Anyone who glanced our way would see two normal human beings sharing a meal in peaceable silence, sharing sparse conversation between bites of this and that. 

They would see lovers.

The thought left a lump in my throat. 

Maybe I looked uncomfortable enough that they would presume, correctly, that we were ex-lovers. I wasn’t hopeful about it, though. 

Helmut noticed, of course, but I knew he would. He had always had an almost supernatural sense for these things, like he could tune into my emotional radio on a frequency I didn’t even fully know myself. Enemy or ally or… otherwise, it was a constant to be seen through and picked apart like carrion. An appetizer for the fights to come. Thankfully, though, he chose to have mercy on me this time in a rare show of respect. Instead of wrapping his lips around another snide comment- even though I could tell it was burning a bitter hole into the tip of his tongue behind his clenched teeth- he chose to pick up a ring of calamari from the plate between us. He held it up to examine the crust in the dim lamplight before placing it delicately against his lips, pulling it from the fork in one bite. Still, he couldn’t be too gracious. Helmut held eye contact as he went.

I could only managed a disgusted sigh but found myself mirrored as his teeth sunk into the squid and his brow furrowed. 

“Bad?” I asked.

He chewed for a good while before managing to swallow the offending clump down, gagging all the way. “Despite my recent diet, that might be the worst thing I’ve eaten in a long while,”

A laugh escaped me before I even knew it was there. “You managed to pick a restaurant where our appetizer is worse than prison food? Serves you right for ordering seafood in the midwest,” 

“I suppose it does.” He nudged the plate towards me with a growing smirk, “See for yourself. I’d hate to see it wasted, and as you said, it is ours. I can’t be expected to finish it alone,” 

As if under the spell of his charisma all over again, I followed his instructions without a second thought. It was just as bad as I anticipated. 

Things were off to a bad start from the moment the tines of my fork hit the batter. The breading seemed to squelch under the pressure, sagging and giving way into meat that was somehow both rubbery and gelatinous, if that was even possible, and if the texture seemed bad outside of my mouth it was even worse inside. Somewhere between its fishy tang and the overly salted batter, there was a bitter, almost sour note that seemed to permeate further with every chew. I spit the macerated glob into my napkin before even attempting to swallow down the remaining spit. 

Across the table, Zemo grinned at my misfortune. “Let’s hope our entrees are less offensive to our palettes,” 

“Fuck off,” I muttered, lips turning up at the edges. 

“You can curse all you want at my poor choice of venue, but I can tell you’re glad you’re the one who ordered the pasta instead of the steak,” 

I went for my glass again, letting the liquor with a name I couldn’t pronounce burn all the way down my throat and into my chest. “I hate that you’re always right, Helmut. Can’t you be wrong, just once? Leave some correctness for the rest of us,” 

Maybe it was the lighting, soft and amber against the dark wood of the table to mask the bloody steaks that would sit below, or maybe it was the music, something old and swinging that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew from the radio in my grandmother’s car as a child, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crows feet that popped up around Helmut’s eyes when he smiled that hadn’t been quite so prominent the last time I’d seen him, but no matter the cause, the solid iron wall I had put up around my heart when I walked out of the Baron’s life those two year sago seemed to soften. Weakened, somehow. It was like someone took a blowtorch right to the center of my defenses. Something in me screamed that they had never been all that strong to begin with. 

I only noticed I’d been staring when he looked away, clearing his throat and wiping his thin mouth with the napkin from his lap. 

There went my hand. Helmut, 1. Me, 0… Well, 1, if leaving him those years ago counted for anything, and I refused to believe that it hadn’t. That the blow to his ego hadn’t given me at least a slight upper hand compared to the naive girl I had been in comparison when I first met him. There had been so much good in the world then. 

The silence dragged on as if the structural flaws of my guarded heart could patch themselves up with the defenses created from just a few silent moments between us. That’s all it would take for me to remember all the reasons this would never work: all the pain, the sleepless nights, the snide comments that turned into biting replies that grew into massive, earth-shattering fights that exploded into days or weeks or months living alone in a house with him. One by one, the memories flooded back, reminding me exactly why it had taken me almost two years to find enough peace within myself that I wouldn’t decide to shoot the man in front of me on sight. My heart hardened by the second.

“I saw your concert,” 

I was simultaneously thawed and frozen all over again. “How did you-“ 

“James mentioned it,” 

“You still talk to Bucky?” 

“Here and there,” 

The conversation lapsed into silence. 

He had… been there? I didn’t even bother to think about the talk I’d have to have with Bucky about my privacy, too focused on the more important matter at hand. 

The venue was grungy, a basement bar with a small stage serving the communities aspiring comedians and desperate punk-rock garage dwellers just waiting for their big break. I had barely had the guts to pay the booking fee, though. It was just me, a piano, and my guitar for an hour and a half set of mostly cover songs that had gone better than I’d expected, but hadn’t been anything crazy. The crowd was appreciative and respectful. Several people had left tips, even more giving me a congratulatory clap on the back as I left the building that night, promising to “stream my EP” whenever I released it, despite the fact that I had no plans to do any such thing. Still, I couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t seen his face in the crowd. I couldn’t name what I was feeling as I imagined it; visualized his face on the other side of the smoky room, leaned against the bar with his dark eyes catching hold of mine…

“You came and you didn’t say anything? Not even a hello?” 

Helmut laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “And risk my life over a free concert? No.” He paused, “Despite my tendency to sometimes be… less than kind, I knew it would rattle you to see me. I didn’t want to throw you off before your performance.” 

I didn’t have much of anything to say in response. Instead, I picked at the paper straw wrapper in my lap and tried to look anywhere but in his direction, shoving down whatever was welling up in my chest. He wouldn’t let things go, though. He never could. That was half of why we’d never work. Every time I tried to drop an uncomfortable subject he’d be there to pick it up with a snide comment or two. It was an easy rhythm. Too easy. I had never wanted to fall back into it and yet, here I was, almost excited to snipe his next words down. 

“Cain misses you,” He continued. 

I folded the straw wrapper in my hands, pulling at the crease as I thought about the doberman puppy I had left behind. He would be so big now, as big as the one I’d taken with me was now. My heart ached at the thought. 

“I doubt he remembers me after all this time,” 

“Of course he does,” Helmut’s voice was low. It was almost hypnotic, the way he carried himself. He could fool anyone. I realized, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that couldn’t have been the calamari, he could still fool me. “He’s quite the troublemaker. More times than I can count he’s evaded me in the house, only to be found asleep in your old closet. I think he remembers your scent,” 

“Thats…” I sat quiet for a moment, pursing through choices of words in my mind, mulling over the sharp accented way he pronounced the t in scent, “Sad. Really sad. Makes me wish I could’ve taken them both,” 

“And what of Brutus?”

“He’s good,” A smile crossed my face. “Big, as you saw tonight. I remember when we got them, they told us they’d be 60 pounds at most, but I swear Brutus must’ve snuck in with the rest of those puppies, because he’s massive. Headbutts me every time I walk through the door wondering where I was. He’s a good boy, though. Keeps watch while I sleep, just in case.”

“Just in case I decided to let myself in through the window one night?”

I let myself laugh without judgement this time, reaching for my water. “Looks like it was all for nothing, then. Who knew he’d just let intruders come waltzing in off of the fire escape?” 

“Am I truly considered an intruder in your home?” He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. As if there were any other answer I could possibly give. As if I could’ve wanted him there. His earnestness almost hurt as much as his taunting did, maybe more, because even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, there was a soft ring of truth to his words. 

I took the cowards way out. “I don’t know, what do you think?” 

It was a vulnerability to not give a straight answer, the kind of weak spot that Helmut would catch wind of in an instant before using it to unravel someone piece by piece. Not a no, but certainly not a yes, and the fact that it hadn’t been a resounding yes was enough to glean that maybe, deep down, I wasn’t hating this dinner. He would see through me. Rip me to shreds for the subtle admittance that I hadn’t hated seeing him waiting for me on the couch when I walked through my door, even if I hadn’t expected or wanted him there in the first place. 

I found it was better to lie by omission than to fully lie and let him see through me to the more important truth; For as much as I despised everything about him, I had missed Helmut Zemo. I had missed his stupid expensive taste and the tilt of his stupid head and his stupid shiny white smile. I had missed seeing his coat hung up beside the door and knowing what waited for me inside. It was sick how I had loved him. How I had loved every minute of him picking me apart by the seams and putting me back together. Who could possibly crave their own destruction? Who could live knowing that to be loved was to be deconstructed down to the bone and laid bare as something lesser, something so small compared to the great destroyer I devoted myself to. 

How could he let me live like that if he truly saw through me? 

And that was why I had to leave. 

Loving Helmut Zemo was no way to live. I knew that. I had known that the day I picked up my dog and walked out of our home with nothing but my wallet, car keys, phone, and a polaroid picture of his silhouette. Somehow, I knew that he knew that too. Why else would I move on so suddenly, so sharply, removing every piece of the life we’d built to start myself fresh? A new me, I had said. A new chapter. Yet here I was across from him, shredded bits of paper littering my lap as he puppeteered my heart right back into his arms. 

No. I couldn’t let it happen. 

Not again. 

“Listen, baron,” I didn’t let him answer my rhetorical question. It wouldn’t be wise to let him gain the upper hand again. It wouldn’t be smart to let myself stay weak. “I appreciate dinner. It’s been surprisingly lovely to catch up with you. I’m glad to know you’re not dead, and its great to know Cain is doing well, but I know you weren’t here to tell me that over a plate of mediocre pasta,” 

Helmut smiled, his head in its signature tilt, and swished his own glass a bit. The ice was all but melted giving the liquor an almost clear quality as it diluted. Not a sip had been taken. “Ask the question, schatz,” 

“Why are you here? Why did you stalk me here and break into my apartment when I made it clear that you weren’t welcome in my life?” My words came out so matter of fact even I almost recoiled at them. Not unemotional but detached. 

“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”

I could feel the blood drain from my face as I looked up at the poor waiter, hot plates in hand, as he took in our table at just the wrong time. Five minutes earlier he would have walked in on polite conversation about the dogs or the shitty appetizers. Now, though, he stood between a man who was known to kill for the things he wanted and me, the one thing he could never have again. 

Surprisingly, though, Helmut waved a hand towards me as I froze. There were none of the usual dramatics, just polite chatter with the waiter as he set my plate in front of me and left Helmut with his, taking the offending calamari plate away with him as he scurried away, surely to tell his coworkers about the crazy exes at the corner table. Helmut didn't even carry on with his answer. He just started tucking in to his steak and potatoes, not sparing me a single glance. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t memorized the way his eyes looked in the low light of a restaurant across from me, I would think he’d been replaced by a skrull.

Where was the tearing? The shredding? The utter evisceration of my waiting throat as he drank deeply of my darkest, most shameful thoughts only to spit them out for the world to see. Where was that shame? In the before times, in the times that the two of us had been a we, he never would have paused to mind a waiter. The world would have revolved around him as he laid me bare, no matter who watched or waited in the wings. What changed? 

How had I not noticed his docility until now?

The pasta was decent. It was better than anything I would’ve made at home, at least. I barely thought about it, though, letting my body go through the motions of eating mechanically while my mind went over a million things I could say. What could I say? There was nothing left to. We had gone over every possibility before I had left, at least I thought we had. Whatever we were was dead. That was certain. But what we could be…

I swallowed hard before I could choke on a relatively large piece of broccoli I neglected to chew in my trance. 

Helmut seemed to be in a painfully similar situation. One look at his plate showed a steak cut into tiny pieces. Almost none of it looked eaten, just diced into a pile and shuffled around a bit on the plate to mix with the potatoes, smashed down from their neat ice cream scoop globe and spread with the back of a fork. 

With a sigh, I set down my fork, pasta already forgotten. 

“Lost your appetite?” 

He paused his fiddling with his fork and knife, mirroring me and letting the utensils rest on the table beside his plate. It was odd to see him rattled. Strange to watch his eyes roll up to the ceiling and pause there, as if he was searching for the right words to say. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. Maybe it was foreign for him to not want to cut; To find a soft word, instead of a sharpened one. His mouth opened one… two…three times. Open and shut, open and shut. I couldn’t help but hurt for him. The man of many words was finally struck dumb. 

Finally, it came. 

“I’m sorry,” 

I had anticipated a selfish reply, a demand for me to come back and put the past two years behind us, but time had changed him. It had changed us both. He was no longer the man he had been when he was first freed from behind bars, vengeful and biting and so deeply afraid of being alone again, but I was no longer the lost girl I had been either. I did not need to be destroyed to breathe. I could feel tears pricking up in my eyes as he reached a hand across the table to search for my own. It was such a familiar sight in a time of uncertainty. I kept my hands firmly in my lap, though. I would not give him the satisfaction. 

More, I would not give him hope.

“Come home, schatz,”  

There it was. 

I couldn’t hold in the bitter, wet laugh that bubbled up through me, more at my own foolishness than at anything else. He had changed, yes, but some things never would. 

“Helmut,” The word hurt to say. It was altogether both familiar and unfamiliar, covered in a thick layer of dust from time, but nothing could erase the fact that it had once been used over and over, like a prayer, as easy as breathing or saying my own name. “You know I can’t,” 

He let his hand slink back to his side. “I had to try, you know,”

“I know,” The words were a whisper. 

So this was closure? 

The table was quiet. There was no desperation from Helmut’s side, no attempts to sway me or sudden outbursts of resentment. It was almost peaceful. His voice was sad but there was no manipulation in it. We laid our cards of the table as the game we’d played for years finally came to an end. 

“You were right about us, when you left,” he laughed, “I was, as you so aptly put it, a massive ass. I was still so deeply disillusioned about this world and the horrors of it. It was as if everyone around me was just another cog in it all, even you. I thought if I could puppet it all, make things go my way, everything could just be quiet. The horrors would finally stop. The memories would finally stop. I took it too far, though. I took it out on you. For that, I will never be sorry enough,” 

I put up a hand. “Helmut, you don’t have to do this-“

“I want to,”

His voice was delicate but didn’t waver. For the first time I wondered if this was more about what he needed to say than about what I needed to hear. I nodded him on. Without me even thinking about what I was doing, my hand caught his across the table.

“I wanted to run after you the same day you left. I nearly did, too, before I thought better of it. Then I really thought of what you said. What I did. It was then that I decided I had to change for the better, not for you but for myself. Only then would I allow myself to try again. So I did. I spent my time deconstructing the things I had seen and done and finally facing my own demons. I’m not perfect- believe me -but there are many things I have… worked on, for lack of a better word. James was surprisingly helpful throughout it all,” 

“Is that why you’ve been talking?” My thumb stroked over his knuckles, pausing on a scar. 

“More or less. I needed advice on how to overcome my atrocities, and I owed him an apology either way. He told me about your concert because he thought I would be ready to make amends, and yet I found myself unable to speak to you because I knew that if I did, I would have to beg you for forgiveness, and that is not something I will allow myself to do from anyone. Not now, nor ever,”

I let myself pull away. This was not a movie. There was no happy ending for the two of us at the end of this conversation. It was a chance to clear the air and let go of our grievances before going our separate ways. Treating it any other way would only hurt us both. “Why break in, then, and drag this all out over dinner? Why not just knock on my door, apologize, and leave?”

“I couldn’t have you slamming the door in my face and leaving me to apologize to the wall, now could I?” 

We shared a sad smile, a knowing one. “I guess that’s true.” 

“I needed to know you would hear what I had to say until the end,” he paused, “And one last confession. I must admit, I could not walk away without sharing dinner with you one last time. It’s selfish, as I am selfish, but I could not see you again without truly seeing you, more than just as you shouted at me and threw me to the curb,” 

“You think so little of me?” I asked. There was no bite in it. 

“No, I think so little of myself,” he finally took a sip from his glass, “Any anger on your part is warranted,” 

We did not speak again for a long while. Helmut methodically went through the bite-sized pieces of steak on his plate as I finished the alfredo, which had grown cold in the time it took to sort things out. There was no quiet conversation, no jokes or shared stories in the glow of the lamps overhead. Instead we sat in peaceable silence and breathed in the finality of it all. I was almost grateful for it. I never would have imagined sharing a meal like this with him in all of the years I had known him and loved him. If it was to be the last, and it was, we would savor every moment of each others company. Every moment not spent on my meal was devoted to memorizing the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes as he did the same for me. 

By the time the waiter came to ask about dessert, I could have written sonnets about his face alone, and by the time he returned with the check, paid discreetly with a 40% tip for his troubles on Helmut’s card, I had committed the sound of his breathing to my mind. I could only hope the memory would last this time.

Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t. 

I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as we approached the front of the restaurant together, pausing awkwardly outside the door as we exited out onto the street. 

“So, this is it,” My hands found the pockets of my coat as I rocked onto the balls of my feet. 

Helmut smiled softly in the lamplight. “Let me walk you home,” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” 

“Says who? I have to follow you either way, my car is parked down the block,” He offered me his arm. 

I took it far quicker than I should have, relishing in the scent of his cologne. Even after all these years he had never switched to another brand, and I refused to admit to anyone else but myself that I was grateful for it. Instead I leaned into his warmth. “Well, it’s only a few blocks anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt,” and with that, we were off. 

The night was cool. Summer had given in to the pull of a lush fall, the temperatures dropping to a comfortable but windy chill when the sun fell below the horizon. The leaves were not yet falling but they’d begun their slow transformation from green into a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens, forming a rustling canopy above the sidewalk that allowed a flash of stars and moon through the foliage every few steps. 

We were not the only pair walking through the streets that night, but if you had asked me about it later I would have said we were the only two people in the whole city, matching each other step for step under the flickering streetlights. Helmut’s crows feet were in full force as he laughed at my terrible jokes, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth rush through my neck and cheeks as he recounted the moment we first met. 

It had been fall then, too. A brief, chance encounter in the streets of Paris was all it was, a night spend with a stranger, until I had seen him again in Sibera, and again in Germany, and again on the Raft, and again, and again, and again, and again…

He had been younger then, much younger, and still raw with grief, but I had loved him even then.

I was so lost in my own memories that I almost missed the stairs up to my apartment, but Helmut paused there, keeping me rooted with him even though the look in his eyes told me he almost kept walking past, hoping to gain one more turn around the block before he had to let me go. He didn't, though. This was the end of the line. 

My arm slipped easily from its place against his own, hand catching briefly on the crook of his elbow. “Walk me to my door?”

His laugh felt almost nervous, a paid mockery of my own earlier reticence. “I don’t think that’s wise,” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman, baron?” 

“I have never claimed that,” For a moment, when he paused, I thought that would be that. I would turn my back, ascend the stairs, and turn around to find he’d shifted back into the shadows from whence he came, but then the moonlight caught on his soft, wet eyes. “But for you, schatz, I try to be,” 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say as we walked up the front steps and into the building. 

It had been so angry last time. I had vomited up every hateful, raging, repressed thought that I had shoved down into my chest over the course of our turbulent time together all at once and left without a second glance. This time, though, it felt wrong to end things without giving him credit for all of the other things, the things I had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded us. How could I thank him? How could I tell him every wonderful thing about himself only to close the door in his face a moment later? I spent the whole trip up to my apartment trying to find a way to express even an ounce of what I felt, and then it was far too late. 

We stood there on my novelty doormat, boots settled over the dirty cartoon chickens, hands in our pockets, and breathed in the stale hallway air. 

“Thank you for dinner,” I said. If I shut off my heart and my mind and every other little betraying ache in my bones it was like it had been all those years ago. We were just meeting. This was the end of our very first date. There was a future instead of a past in the time that lay beyond us. 

Helmut averted his eyes from mine. I could tell he was pretending too. “Of course,” 

“I’ll see you again,” I lied, “I mean, it’s inevitable. We’ll end up at Bucky’s place at the same time,” 

“Or run into each other at a busy cafe,” he offered. 

“Exactly! Or our cells will end up next to each other in maximum security prison,” I laughed, but it caught, pathetic, in the back of my throat.  

He took a step back, boots leaving my doorstep. “I look forward to it, whenever it may be,” 

My shaking hands found my keys, an autopilot motion I had done a million times, and the door to my apartment swung open. I could hear Brutus in his kennel, beginning to whine the moment he heard me come home, but I paused there for a moment, one foot in and one foot out. 

“Goodbye, Helmut,” 

“Sleep well, schatz,” 

I stepped inside and locked the door without turning around for a last look. 

My tears came quicker than expected as I took in the room around me. It was the antithesis of my home with Helmut, all whites and beiges and grays from the sparse walls to the lonely couch against the wall. There was one great shock of black, though; a solid footprint on the windowsill. One last souvenir to remember him by. 

I had done the right thing. 

I had to have done the right thing. 

Life with Helmut was hell. It was exciting and lush and romantic and alluring but it was destructive and painful too. It would mean being seen and unseen for the rest of my life, living with the ghosts of those lost in Novi Grad. He would never stop being the man his grief had created. He was just too broken… wasn’t he? 

All at once I knew I had to see him again. This wasn’t going to be the end. There were still so many chances to make it right. 

Before I knew my own feelings, I was undoing the latch and throwing my door open, only to find him there, feet planted solidly on that stupid welcome mat and fist raised to lift the knocker. Our eyes locked. 

We didn’t need words then. 

No, all I needed was his lips on mine and my hands in his hair. It was a need easily rectified. 

He didn’t pull away as I grabbed the edges of his ridiculous fur coat and dragged him in for a kiss, letting the remains of that day’s lipstick smear against his chapped lips as the parted and made way for me. It was like a piece of my puzzle fell back into place, like the thing that had been lying dormant in my empty chest for the past two years had jumped to life and jumped into my throat. The tears weren’t coming anymore, though Helmut’s cheeks felt wet when I guided one of my hands to rest against it, dragging him closer. I needed him urgently. I needed all of it. Every moment I had missed. 

At least one time in my entire tiny, useless life I needed to know him as he had always known me. I had to see him through eyes that would know every atom of him by heart. 

It could have lasted second or hours. I was lost in it; lost in every heartbeat and the messy clack of teeth on teeth as we remembered exactly how our mouths locked into each other. There was no need to breathe. I would happily drown in him if he would let me. Through the passion I distinctly remembered this fervor, the endless need for him. It wasn’t frightening anymore, though. I knew how to walk away. We both did. 

This time I didn’t want to. 

Helmut was the first to pull away. His mouth was wet and red as he panted there, just a breath away from diving in for more, but he pulled away when I advanced again, instead choosing to speak between placing kisses on my cheeks and down my jaw. “I couldn’t let you walk away from me. Not again,” his voice shook as he kissed me, “Does that make me a bad man? Does that mean you can’t love me?” 

I could only breathe a laugh as I pressed my chest to him. No measure of closeness was enough. I needed him to cover every inch of me. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried, and I’ve tried,” 

“Please, stop trying,”

With that, he caught me in another kiss. 

“We should probably go inside,” I panted, gesturing towards the apartment with my head and Helmut nodded, maneuvering us over the threshold and into the barren entryway of the home  I’d made without him. It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what I was focused on. Instead, my hands were more focused on pulling his coat from his shoulders and discarding it loosely in the direction of the coat rack between fevered kisses. 

The old Helmut would’ve pulled away and make some snarky remark about keeping the place clean. This Helmut, though- my Helmut, as I had selfishly started to refer to him mentally in the past few moments -just dragged me in closer after his arms were freed, letting his hand drift to the small of my back but not even an inch lower.

Suddenly, though, things seemed to cool. The kisses grew shorter, softer. His arms still held me but seemed to loosen their grip. 

“Tell me you want this,” He whispered softly against the shell of my ear, “That you want me,” 

Ah. So that’s what this is. 

“Helmut, of course I do-“ 

“That’s not enough,” his voice was laced with a rare seriousness as he pulled away to look at me properly. His brown eyes glowed a million honeyed colors under the shitty, flickering overhead lighting I should have replaced months ago. They flitted from my swollen mouth to my cheeks to my watery eyes as his hand came up to cup my cheeks again. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake or a bad decision you’ll regret the second we finish,” 

The rest went unsaid. 

(Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me this means something to you, even if it doesn’t mean as much as it does to me. Tell me I won’t wake up alone tomorrow morning. Tell me anything and everything except the cruel reality that neither of us really knows what the future looks like once this is over)

I simply nodded my head, coming in for one closed mouth kiss. “I want this. I want you. Whatever I choose to do next, you’ll be a part of the decision. No more running away,” 

Like a shot, we were off to the races again. 

It was hard to detach our bodies long enough to give Brutus a treat to quiet him down, harder still to lead him to the bedroom and drop his hand long enough to turn on a nearby lamp, but somehow I managed. For all of the small things I’d forgotten about Helmut in the two years we’d spent apart, his bitten nails and the silhouette of his nose and the sound of his labored breathing as he took in my body with something akin to animalistic hunger, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm we’d always found ourselves in intimately. 

His shirt came off first, exposing the soft curve of his stomach. I kissed down from his neck to his chest, letting myself pause on each and every pinkish scar that graced his flesh. I made a mental note to ask him about a few new ones, including a wicked one across his collarbone that still puckered into an inch long divot in his flesh. My fingers followed my mouth, mapping every inch of his flesh. They caught on every soft yielding place he offered, a worship on the altar of his body, dragging his flesh ever so slightly but never enough to leave a scratch or bruise. 

I would not mark him any more than the world already had. It was not my purpose to remold him into my image. Instead I would venerate what he was, what he had become. 

Helmut had put so much effort into changing himself, rebreaking the things that had never healed correctly and setting them right again. I refused to let him break down to splinters again. Not on my watch. 

He shuddered at my attentions. 

“Let me see you?” It was a question, not a demand, and how could I deny him when he asked so nicely? 

I stood up again, relishing in the feeling of his fingers against the hem of my t-shirt, the gentle scratch of nails on skin as he lifted it over my head. When he looked at me, it was like he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Usually he was so hungry for it that there was never a pause once my shirt was discarded. My bra would be thrown off with it, then my pants, then my underwear, all in such quick succession that I barely distinguished one article from the next in the order of things. This time, though, he paused, hands just inches from my bare flesh. 

“My sweet girl,” he whispered to me like a prayer, a confession, “I don’t think I can hold back much longer,” 

Slowly, deliberately, I stepped forward and pressed my body into his awaiting hands. He squeezed my hips once, gentle, and twice. Then they were roaming up to the clasp on my bra with that usual hunger again, freeing my breasts for his attentions. I don’t exactly recall how he manhandled me on to the bed, I was too busy feeling the hard press of his bulge through his crisp dress slacks. The first thing I was fully cognizant of was his hot breath on my sternum as he hovered over me, still standing but bent at the waist, boxing me in with his knees. 

“So fucking sweet,” he whispered before taking one of my nipples between his lips and laving his tongue over the hardening tip. 

I felt like a live wire. Heat was building everywhere. Dazzling electricity shot through my head and fingers and toes and cunt and gods especially my breasts. They were always my weak spot, and how he knew it, how he knew me. I wanted to thrash against him, to buck and gain his attention where I really needed it, but his body above mine held me fast, keeping me right where he wanted me, vulnerable to him and his specific brand of torture. With a particularly sharp pinch and a well timed suck he had me keening against him, curling into his every move. 

How had I lived without him? It was hard to imagine a night not spend here with Helmut, wherever here was, not that that mattered. I was embarrassingly wet. The slickness had gathered enough that I could feel it on my thighs despite my jeans. When I tried to relieve myself, though, the baron caught my hand, tutting softly. 

I expected to have to ask permission. Soft begs escaped my mouth. I needed him. I had no patience for games. Instead, though, he lifted up off of my chest and smiled, pulling my hand to his lips. “Let me help you, love,” 

There are no words in the human language that could adequately represent the sound that escaped my mouth. I could not even begin to try. It continued even as I lifted my hips to shimmy free from my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, only ceasing when Helmut was on his knees with his face buried in my cunt. I was making different noises then. Loud. Guttural. If I had any mind left at all I would worry what my neighbors thought, to see me out on my doorstep desperately pawing at a man only to hear the noises we were making in tandem now. Thankfully, any sensible thought I had left seemed to fly out the window with Helmut’s first lick to my cunt. 

It was clear that he hadn’t forgotten me, and if he had, the muscle memory was coming back quick. His tongue was deft as it worked its way over my aching nub in a pseudo-figure eight; circling once, twice, and three times before dipping back through my folds. I held him in place this time, though, rocking into his mouth. At some point my hands found their way into his hair. It was so soft between my fingers, so pliable as I pulled against him, desperate for more of him, anything he would good. 

Every time he relented to me. Each sharp jolt was rewarded with a kiss against my thigh or a muttered curse in Sokovian, hot breath teasing my glistening mound. 

He was so giving, so attentive to my every need. He had always been a generous lover, never leaving me wanting for anything, but this felt… different. The way he sucked bruises into my thighs, relenting to each and every sobbing please that escaped my soft lips, was a new and devastating experience. There were no power games left to play, no lording his sexual prowess over me as he brought me slowly closer and closer to the ever distant goalpost, just his mouth on me over and over and over again as he wrung the first orgasm of the night out of me, then the second in short measure, barely ceasing from one to the next.

By the time he decided I’d had my fill, my legs were a trembling mess against his shoulders and my cunt was a sopping mess. 

He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.

“How was that, my love,” 

I could barely catch my breath enough to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, thrumming a frantic drumbeat even as the room quieted. “So good- really really good, Helmut,” 

Slowly, he rose up from his knees, undoing his belt. “Please say my name again, schatz,” 

“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent. 

He undid the button at his fly, pulling at the band of his boxers. “Again,” 

It fell from my lips like a prayer. “Helmut,”

His cock bounced free, bobbing as he took a sharp, steadying breath. He placed his hand at the base and squeezed slightly. 

“Again,” 

“Helmut,” 

“Fuck, that’s good,” The trance broke momentarily as I gazed up at him, watching the sweat roll down his forehead in shining rivulets despite the chill in the air. He wiped at them with the back of his free hand and smiled sheepishly. “Scoot back and get comfortable, please. I don’t think I’ll last long,” 

I did as he asked, settling against my pillows on the still-made sheets. “Neither will I,” 

“Where are your condoms?” 

“Bedside drawer, way in the back. I’m on the pill too, so no worries,” 

He moved quickly, grabbing a foil package from the small pile I’d accrued, just in case. 

It felt odd to have him be the one using them. 

There had been a few other men who had been invited here, fewer still that made it to the point that Helmut and I were at now. Every time, though, I hadn’t been able to go through with it, because every time they had finally settled themselves above me, I would close my eyes and, just for a moment, see Helmut in their place. It was unsettling the first time, enough so that I sent the guy home right away. The next time, though, it was more thought provoking than anything. I chalked it up to him being my longest lasting sexual partner and left it at that, but now, watching him roll the condom onto his length and crawl into his position over me, I knew. 

I would never get over him, even if I tried for years. My heart had a space carved out in the shape of his own. No matter how long I stayed away, I would never find something quite like what we had. He was it. This was what people dreamed about. And to think, I had almost let it slip away…

He slid one hand into mine, lacing our fingers together in the gentle lamplight. “Are you ready for me?” 

“More than ready,” My thighs spread as I canted my hips up.

Physically and mentally and every other possible way I needed him. I was prepared. 

So Helmut pumped himself once with his free hand before guiding himself into my wet heat. 

It was impossible to last long once we were finally complete. 

Feeling him inside me was like knowing the truth of the universe. It was comfortable, and thrilling, and so deliciously enough. He filled me well, finding his rhythm as he swore and released my hand to prop himself up more comfortably. We were linked together like the final pieces of a puzzle. I closed my eyes at let myself relish in it. 

There was nothing left to worry over while Helmut was inside of me. All thoughts that weren’t of him were banished. It was something to be cherished, every thrust paired with a whispered confession of love from one of us, a fleeting kiss, a curse, a plea… We laid ourselves bare. I let my legs wrap around his warm, soft hips as he rutted into me, bringing a hand between us to circle my clit once more. Even after everything he refused to leave me behind while he chased his own pleasure. It didn’t take much to send me tumbling over the edge into oblivion. 

As always, Helmut followed me down. 

His thrusts quickened, then stilled as he came to rest upon me, panting and heaving and begging for breath. I didn’t care much. He smelled of cologne and sweat as I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel him soften inside of me but I was far too spent to urge him to move.

We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.

Helmut quickly kissed my forehead and gathered himself up, shuffling to the trash can to discard the used condom and grab a tissue to wipe himself up. I didn’t let myself move an inch. If I moved, would the bliss run away? Would I realize what I’d done? I let myself lay instead, eyes closed, panting in the autumn chill as my lover approached and wiped up our beautiful mess as gently as he could manage. With one last kiss to my thigh, he discarded the rag, opened the window, and crawled back into bed with me. 

The process was indelicate, a lot of awkward shuffling of sticky limbs, but we were settled beneath the blankets soon enough. Helmut stroked his fingers down my arm languidly while kissing the back of my neck. 

I broke the peace between us. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us,” 

He sighed gently. His breath was soothing and familiar against my shoulder. “That’s not something we have to decide at this very moment,” 

“But I just don’t want you to think this means something… or at least something more than it does? If that makes sense? I don’t know,”

“Schatz, please,” 

“I want to keep my own place, at least for now. I don’t know what that means for when I’ll see you or if we’ll keep doing this,” I gestured vaguely to my nude body beneath the sheets, “or if we’re even a thing anymore, bu-“ 

Helmut reached his arm around us, placing a quieting finger over my lips and another soft kiss against my shoulder. 

“I swear, your mind sounds even louder than mine,” 

“Sorry,” 

“No reason to be,” His hand left my lips, running down to my stomach and pulling me back towards the softness of his chest. “As for your questions, I shall respect your wishes about distance and housing and labels, whatever they may be. That being said, as long as you’re still up for… this, as you put it, I will never deny you, no matter the distance. I would cross oceans for you,” 

A cum-drunk, half-asleep giggle escaped me as he nuzzled in, kissing my ear. 

“Thank you,” 

“No, thank you,” he matched my laughter with his own, “I believe this is what James would call post nut clarity,” 

“Now you ruined it!” I huffed. The faux anger only lasted a moment, though, before I was rolling to face him, cheek pressed to the soft, downy hair of his chest. “I love you, Helmut.” 

“I love you too, sweet girl. Now sleep. I’ll get up and deal with the dog once you’re resting,” 

For the first time in two years, I breathed in the scent of Helmut’s cologne before lapsing into a peaceful sleep.

---------

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into smut in literal years, and it was literally all written within a 12 hour period, so I hope any mistakes weren't enough to take away from your enjoyment. Comments are always appreciated, but never expected. See you on the next authors note!

[lo1k-diamonds]

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 7 (end)

"I said I like it fucking quiet.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi thought it would be bliss from now on, but not yet. Not until you both own the city.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: angst, plotting, kidnapping, blood, violence, knifes, guns, physical violence, death. (Am I forgetting something?)

A.N. Ahh, no way I could just let them be happy, okay? Not without suffering first, it's my style 🤣 Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for helping me around the clock and being incredible betas! Check out their fics too! Now get ready 😎

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter

Yoongi didn't know life could be like this. Once, he had been sold on that dream; it was the reason why he got married, bought a house, and started on the force. He wanted a loving home and family, and everyone told him to follow those steps to get there.

You were everything he had ever dreamed, immersing him in a bliss he never thought possible. That day, at the charity event, you took charge of things. You left with him, took him home, and spent the next twenty-four hours making up for the lost time. Your sheets didn't witness just your bodies reattuning to each other, but also the other moments when your hearts did. When you told him so much more about what you did, what you had in motion, what you proposed to secure both his and your positions, and how you planned on providing the best for your unborn child.

“Ours,” he corrected gently, kissing the back of your fingers.

You looked up with your head on his chest, and a moment later, you just nodded, “Ours.”

At that moment, he was willing to compromise for you — whatever you needed. He just didn't think it would come in the form of you not letting him leave.

He all but moved in with you soon after, and at 34 weeks, he believed he'd never leave. You adored snuggling up to him at all times of day, especially because he massaged you all over while you talked. Someone almost busted a plan of yours? You could vent while he thumbed the ball of your foot. A politician was acting ridiculous? Your hands and arms needed to let go of the stress you accumulated during the day. You had stood for hours at a charity event? Those idiots should be sued for having you standing like that; your legs needed the soothing of his fingers. You were still on your computer when he arrived home from work? Your shoulders needed to be relieved of the tension.

He still had to work and there was no way you'd pause your work, not when you had a grand plan to own the city, just like he suggested. You had decided you didn’t need to excel in every business you had to control the city, especially because the top was naturally the first to be challenged. You were too branched out, and it wouldn’t pay off — if you tried to dominate everyone, you were inviting multiple enemies to ally themselves to throw you down. Not even Yoongi would be able to help you, despite him assuring you he would. 

“I’m not interested in destroying what makes you our good half,” you had chuckled when he brought it up again. You looked beautiful under the dim lights of your bedroom, naked with your baby bump up, half lying on him in bed. This was something he couldn’t do without anymore. “We’re stronger if they don’t suspect you have hidden interests. If they think I’m a woman alone, I seem fragile. A kid will help. It’s all about finding the right balance, because if I’m too weak, they’ll destroy me. You can be our secret weapon.”

Your teasing grin as your tongue peeked between your teeth made him laugh. Ultimately, you knew your way around that world far better than he did. He’d always trust you with it.

Your strategy was to have insurance. If you had dirt on everyone and monopolized at least that market, you would be as safe as possible. Your downfall would just be too risky all around, and it would be less likely that your enemies would become friends trying to overthrow you. You wouldn’t be a significant enough threat to alarm other organizations, but you’d easily manipulate things in the shadows — everyone won.

You had started with medium management, as you liked to call it, and worked your way up. You already had a pretty big web of people working for you on the inside in various industries — other mob families, prisons, the police, the military, the entertainment and media conglomerates, even hospitals and pharmaceutical companies, without mentioning politics. Your tycoon status allowed you to keep an eye on the echelon, which meant you had everything covered. A politician wanted to do something you didn’t like? You knew of their kids’ DUIs, and the scandal was just too easy. Someone didn’t want to fundraise for the Mayor you had chosen? You had reports of companies faking quality control reports for products or negligence in the hospitals; you would leverage the media to destroy their business overnight. The media heads themselves didn’t want to cooperate? Too easy to leak footage of them in brothels or orgies that could ruin their entire reputation. And all mob families had their weaknesses; having people in the prisons and low-level thugs meant you’d know what you needed to keep them at bay. In essence, a network that gave you just enough to have leverage but not enough to be a direct threat to anyone.

He admired you for handling everything with such zeal and trusted you absolutely to take care of things. On his side, he was more worried about assuring the one thing you were most likely to overlook: your safety. First, he became intimately involved with your security details. All of your staff answered to him, which he liked. On top of that, he had his officers keeping an eye on you as well. Some probably suspected this wasn't about a case, but Yoongi didn't care as long as you were safe.

You had worked hard all over those months to carry out your master plan. It was ambitious, and if the pieces fell into place, not even Jae Seong Seok could touch you. The frustration was in getting the last piece of information — if you could find out who he was working with now, you'd be able to use your network and have him in your hand. But whoever he was working with, he was keeping it under wraps.

“It's ridiculous!” You whined, despite Yoongi massaging your shoulders. “It's a better kept secret than who the President's mistress is! Fuck!”

You jumped up from your office chair in a burst of anger, only to groan and take support on the desk. Yoongi was instantly behind you as you rubbed your swollen tummy; he didn't even flinch when you gave him a look between petulance and tiredness.

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It fucking does,” you insisted, falling back into him when he hugged you from behind. “Without knowing who is doing the Commissioner's bidding, we’re blind to his plans. It means we have a blind spot and—”

You held your breath, scrunching your nose with instant relief. He had just taken the weight out of your strained back by raising your belly, and you could breathe freely for a moment.

“Is that okay?” 

His voice was a whisper to your ear that had you sighing praises. He kissed your neck the whole time until he had to let go slowly, gently, distracting you with his lips on your skin before you’d get grumpy again.

“Didn’t you have someone on his team?”

“I lost them a couple of weeks after I told you that. He took exile in Heuksando last I heard.”

Your head fell back into his shoulder and he hummed, “I’m sure we’ll know something soon. Between your people and mine, we’re bound to hear or notice something. It’s a matter of time.” You pursed your lips, rubbing your belly again; time was a luxury you did not have. “Besides,” he spun you so you’d face him. “He’s not stupid. He wouldn’t just attempt to get rid of you; he probably knows we’re together.”

Your expression didn’t smooth, “For as long as he does bullshit without us knowing, we won't own the city.”

He nuzzled you, “He’s just one man. One tiny, meaningless man. Don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t seem fully convinced but you definitely relaxed in his arms that night, and the few nights after. Yoongi believed what he had told you: if the both of you were blinded to the Commissioner’s movements, then he was to yours too. You were stronger than him, you were together. You were bound to win.

But that night when he drove to the Aether at the maximum speed his car allowed, he wondered if he’d been too naive. If it was right to think that owning 98% of the city was enough to protect you and your child, only to learn the worst way possible that it could all fall through the cracks.

He arrived at the club, and from the outside it might have looked like the security were handling a typical problem, like a rowdy customer. When Thoma greeted him at the entrance, Yoongi followed him hurriedly, his blood freezing inside his veins. Your head of security didn’t just make that face for no reason.

Still, Yoongi couldn’t have believed it until he saw it with his own eyes. Before he got to your office, he passed your security and staff being checked by medics in the hallway, some even bleeding on the floor, almost passed out. Yet, when he entered your office, the situation dawned on him.

You had put up a fight. Your office was completely upside down, with your screen and papers on the floor, fallen chair, and broken glass everywhere. There was blood on the floor, which he kneeled to see. His fists closed instantly at the thought of you getting hurt, but maybe you had hurt them instead before they took you. You were good with your knife. He looked around; he couldn’t see it anywhere.

He got up, “Who the fuck?”

He asked simply, quietly, and Thoma answered, “Look at the back of the door.”

Yoongi turned, his dark eyes scanning the open door for traces of it being used or handled some way. His long, black raincoat billowed behind him as he moved and quickly used a glove to push the door closed.

I also prefer it quiet.

The scribbles or the paper glued to the door made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Does it mean anything to you?”

Yoongi’s eyes were the color of death, “Yes, and it does for you, too. You’re going to do exactly as I say.”

Thoma disagreed with Yoongi’s instructions, but he’d carry them out anyway. Yoongi didn’t care about the man’s opinion; it wasn’t him who was about to lose his whole life to a bug he didn't squish properly.

When Yoongi had decided to help you back when it was a conscious decision. Not just to step into your life, but to stay in it. To make it better. To use what he had at his disposal to do so. He didn’t regret it for a second, not even now. Some would say he was reaping what he sowed, but that was a stupid understanding of the situation. A coward’s subservient view on what was happening — when they touched you, they knew there were only two possible outcomes. And for Yoongi, there was only one. 

Of course, Thoma didn’t like calling the police and reporting the assault or that you were kidnapped. But the police responded to Yoongi in that area, so that wasn’t the problem. He didn’t like that he was to play dumb and not tell them who had done it. Eventually, they would be shown footage that Officer Jung could recognize, all to buy Yoongi the right amount of time. 

Because to Yoongi there was only one outcome. As he stopped in a hidden alley without cameras, he opened the trunk of his car and pulled the bottom to reveal a secret compartment where he had an arsenal. He picked and loaded a pistol, screwed in the silencer, and hid it along with magazines under his long raincoat. Then, he made his way to the back of the Evgeni Sports Center.

Yoongi refused one of the possible outcomes as if it wasn’t possible. That was maybe why he entered the building casually and unnoticed amidst a football game, making the big crowd watching it on the flat screen completely wild. The beer was plentiful, as were the cheers, and he was able to swiftly enter the kitchen in the back, where the staff didn’t dare look at him. He was a man with a purpose and only one option.

When he reached the back door and went down the stairs, he grabbed his pistol and started his work. There was only one justice down there — the one he inflicted himself. Big or small, he didn’t care. People fell like flies before the commotion began and even then, to reach him was a nearly impossible task. He was an agent of death dealing it swiftly to everyone who had dared to condone this heinous crime. To touch you at any point would have been dangerous, but now? It was a death wish — the only possible outcome.

Blood tainted the walls at his passage while he shot, punched, and kicked whoever dared to stand in his way to find you. He noticed the heavy metal doors, knowing they hid bullshit that wasn’t meant to be found, but he continued. It would be a shit show, but he didn’t care. His officers would show and turn the place upside down. Weapons? Drugs? Torturing people? He huffed and wiped the blood off his knuckles; all fine and dandy, but not what he was looking for.

He didn’t mean to, but he ended up cleaning that floor like it was a military operation. No one but people being tortured were left alive in his wake; no witnesses, no surprises. All he wanted was you, he’d leave once he got what he came for.

He held his gun up and in position as he faced the last door at the end of the corridor. It took him one second to calculate the odds of finding you there. Then he risked it and opened it, only for a kick to hit his hands hard.

He grunted, and although he didn’t instantly loosen his grip on the weapon, a punch to his back made his form crumble.

A series of punches made him grunt and raise his arms to defend himself, and a careful dance ensued. Yoongi almost lost his patience as he handled that single amazing enemy, but then two things happened: his pistol fell to the floor, and he saw you.

You were sitting on a lonesome chair in the middle of that humid, dark storage room, tied and pale. He instantly saw your shining eyes and the hairs glued to your forehead with sweat, your chest heaving tensely over your swollen belly, and knew he hadn’t come fast enough. He needed to get to you.

Those fuckers just had to keep their strongest guy next to you. It pissed Yoongi off; he much rather shoot him too. But he was forced to fight and manage the situation, not letting him get near you or the gun.

After a succession of punches and counters, Yoongi landed a punch on the guy’s ear and made a judgment call that put everything in jeopardy — he ran to you. Your eyes widened, seeing the guy behind Yoongi rush for the gun on the floor. He was dizzy from the punch, and your brain struggled — even if you warned him, Yoongi would never make it back in time to grab it.

So you shook your leg frantically, “The knife!”

Yoongi rushed to kneel before you and grab the knife, thinking to use it to set you free, but you kicked him as hard as you could.

A gunshot echoed and Yoongi’s breath caught as he fell back to the floor. For a second, he thought his life was over — not because he had been shot, but because you had.

But a split second was enough to hear the bullet ricocheting off somewhere and hear the guy fall to the floor. Yoongi’s training kicked in and two seconds later, he was on top of the guy, trying to finish it. His enemy was brave, dizzy, and without balance, but he was still a tougher foe than most people Yoongi had encountered in his career or training. The pistol had fallen somewhere when the guy had lost his balance, so it was all about the knife. They started fighting for it and in a slip of his hand, the guy caught it, and slash.

Yoongi grunted and fell back, holding onto his face more with shock and instinct, than actual pain. He thought he was blind for a moment, feeling something thick on his fingers while his sight darkened, but he couldn’t stop. To stop was to endanger you, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He opened his good eye and, seeing the guy with his back turned advancing toward you, Yoongi rushed to kick him as hard as he could in the back of the knee.

The guy fell forward with a grunt, letting the knife fly away, and in your attempts to escape him, you leaned back on the chair. The push was enough to make you gasp and fall back with a bang that scared Yoongi shitless. His head was hurting, and along with the blood covering his eye, it put him off balance, to his frustration. He gritted his teeth, trying to get to the fallen guy by crawling; it wasn’t like it was his ears, so his balance was fine. It was just his damn eye!

But he didn’t move fast enough; suddenly, he heard steps rushing and tried to get back on track and jump on the guy, but he couldn’t see him. It was too late.

A gunshot echoed again, and this time a body hit the floor. Yoongi sat up and rubbed at his eyes roughly, widening his eyes to check on you , and there you were. In the same dress as this morning, though covered in sweat, dry blood, dust and now even chair bits from when it shattered with your fall, standing a few steps away from him, emotionlessly eying the guy you had shot in the head.

Then, you rushed to his side and kneeled. Yoongi wanted to grab you close, speechless, but you grabbed his head instead and brushed his longer dark hair aside.

You sighed in relief, “You’re okay, it’s just a scratch.”

He blinked at you, finally acknowledging the sting on his eyelid and cheek and that he could see fine, but instantly it didn’t matter. He widened his eyes at you, raising his arms around you, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

You meant to get up, but you groaned. Something wasn’t right.

Yoongi called your name and you looked at him. It was as though you had gone deaf; his lips were moving but you could barely hear him.

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding,” he repeated, supporting you more steadily, trying to calm you, but you were confused.

“I’m not, I’m fine. I wasn’t shot.”

“No,” he brushed your cheeks gently, trying to make you focus. “You’re bleeding.”

It was like a CD entered the slot and it finally dawned reality on you. You looked down, holding onto his arms around you, and the pain hit you like a truck. You were bleeding down your legs, and suddenly you were dizzy. Your legs couldn’t hold you; you only wanted to curl around yourself and he let you down slowly.

“It hurts—”

“Breathe.”

Yoongi started the breathing exercises you both had learned but the way you glared at him was enough.

“I’ll carry you out. Ready?”

Your groan had a pitch of fear, but you bit your lip and screamed through the pain as he lifted you in his arms. Everything was a blur; hot and cold sweats going up and down your spine as you tried not to scream your pain out. It was visceral, terrifying, and rife with despair— something was wrong. You needed help. Now.

Once upstairs, people had scattered in a commotion, but fortunately, it seemed nobody quite knew what was going on. Some were running outside, others were filming, but the center's staff was surprisingly quiet. It was almost like suddenly, there was no one to take charge.

Fortunately, an ambulance had already been called to tend to the reported distress at the building. So when Yoongi stepped out with you in his arms, the paramedics quickly turned to the pregnant person with a bloody dress instead of a drunk making a scene.

In a matter of seconds, you were on a stretcher being carried inside the ambulance, and Yoongi wanted to go with you. 

But you held his hand, “No.”

He frowned, but you just looked behind him and then gave him a look, and he understood. He let go of your hand and instantly turned back as swiftly as possible. The crowd was in shock with the reported noise and the bloodied pregnant woman that just passed by them, and so, distracted.

Yoongi rushed downstairs, leaving the door closed behind him. He grabbed your blade and his pistol, then quickly looked around. It was a storage room with all sorts of boxes and containers, and he needed something that could destroy evidence fast, but not so fast that all the people tied up in other rooms, bleeding to death, couldn’t be rescued in time.

In the end, he found flammable paint and poured it on stacks of documents far back in the room before setting them on fire with a lighter. He hoped the humidity made the fire spread slowly enough, but even just the water from the sprinklers would help once they were triggered.

After dealing with that, he made his way completely upstairs through another set of stairs that weren’t accessible to the public. 

He had been there before, so he knew exactly where to go and that there were no cameras. He assumed he had killed most of the goons because only a handful tried to stop him. By then, he had reloaded, and nothing could stand in his way. Something was wrong; you weren’t supposed to be bleeding. It was too soon. It was all those fuckers fault!

He reached the office of Prokhor Evgeni and staggered for a second — Jae Seong Seok was sitting right there as though he had had an audience with the Russian. Both older men looked scared, which made the situation strange, almost comical. Only Yoongi wasn’t in a laughing mood; he raised his pistol and shot precisely twice.

Each man fell back onto their chair or on the floor while Yoongi pushed his hair back with annoyance, flaring, “I said I like it fucking quiet.”

Before his anger could go further, his phone started buzzing inside his pocket, and he sobered up. That meant Thoma had told Officer Jung what he needed to know; that signaled that the force was establishing a perimeter and a team to swarm the place.

He holstered his gun on his belt, then quickly put on gloves and searched for each man’s guns. Prokhor had one in his desk drawer, and Yoongi used it to shoot Jae Seong Seok a couple of times before shooting all around the room and throwing it on the floor. The Commissioner had a revolver with him, and it wasn’t hard to shoot in Prokhor’s direction and simulate a scene. Would it raise questions? Absolutely. But the more questions it raised, the harder it would be to get to the actual truth.

Yoongi went downstairs and blended in with the crowd still lingering about before reaching for the fire alarm to pull it. A loud siren went off, and the fire in the basement must have finally triggered the sprinklers because they went off, too. He made his way out amongst everybody else. Then, he faced the sky and started laughing.

He thought to just take out his raincoat so no one would know he was inside, but it was raining outside. So he stood there under the rain, smirking, letting it wash away the blood from his face, clothes, and any evidence that he had been inside.

He stood under the elements the whole time, the image of diligence coordinating the police and firemen who responded to the scene. It was a bloodbath and instantly the bodies became the reason for a national scandal. The media couldn’t get enough of it, especially the bit about the Commissioner and the Head of a Mafia family. The officers, though, were more inclined to believe the Commissioner had come to save you in person, and something had gone wrong. Maybe your child was even his. It would make sense, considering both your statuses. Maybe you were having an affair.

Yoongi focused on making sure that everything was accounted for, even the witnesses that said he was seen before the firemen and police arrived. He made sure their statement was taken too because they were contradictory with other witnesses. Some saw him carrying a pregnant lady, some only saw him when the alarm went off. The more information the police had, the better.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you. He understood why you asked him to stay, he needed to finish things and handle the outcome. After all, you both needed to own that city.

But he was dying to hear news from you. He had texted your people as soon as he had a second, so he knew they were with you, but still. Waiting just wasn’t possible, not tonight.

He was smoking and wrapping up the last details before the scene could be sealed when his phone buzzed inside his pocket. He picked it up this time, and the wails of a baby caught his breath.

“Is it done?”

“Yes,” he breathed, then he closed his eyes. “Our boy?”

“Eager to meet you.”

“You?”

“Come see for yourself.”

He didn’t need anything else to tell the last Officers on the scene he was leaving. He walked away to reach his car, then drove calmly to the hospital. He was drenched, so he left his raincoat inside the car and got on the elevator straight to the level you were in.

You were in a private, spacious room with everything you could need. It was just you, already wearing something of your own under the sheets, snoozing with a baby to your chest. Yoongi neared you and kissed your forehead, closing his eyes with the relief flooding him. You awoke with his touch and leaned in closer. He smelled of rain and new beginnings.

When he pulled away, you reached to touch the cut. Someone had cleaned it, leaving it red and furious across his eye, top to bottom. Looking into each other’s eyes, you knew the other was fine. Each with your own pain, but united in that moment, at last.

Finally, Yoongi took a look at his son. He was reddened too, with puffy cheeks and pouty lips, just like yours. He leaned in to kiss and nuzzle his son with a heart so full, he couldn’t speak. All he could do was sit on the bed, embracing you and him in his arms. 

You were looking at your baby before you noticed your position, englobing your son on two fronts, completely. Your lips curved, and you looked at Yoongi. You had finally won.

There we have it! I hope it was a nice, wild ride! 😁👋💜

[boobabietch]

Chapter V: “Victoria O’Hara Looses Her Fucking Mind. Again!” | Diana Taurasi x OC

Warnings: V is loosing her shit (one more time) and Diana being the menace she is, and barely noticeable alcohol consumption

A/N: honestly guys I think I ate this time, with all due respect I fucking love this chapter that’s it. I know I said this would be out last week but I’m a struggling college student and I wanted this chapter to be extra fucking perfect, I just hope you guys love it like I do. Per usual you already know the drill, English is not my first language so yeah just lmk if my dumbass self screwed somewhere so I can change it and not embarrass myself, likes reblogs and comments(!!!) are highly appreciated and my ask box is always open for whatever you want to tell me. With nothing more to say, enjoy. Love Sof :))

Making headlines masterlist

“From Enemies to Allies? The All-Star Weekend Just Got a Lot More Interesting with O’Hara and Taurasi Both On Team Delle Donne!”

I hated her. And I wanted her. And I didn’t know which feeling was stronger.

I hated it.

She was going to be on my side, and I hated it. But I hated more the fact that she was the only thing clouding my mind right now. I just made the All-Star team, and my thoughts went straight to her.

Her words, her voice, her talent, her body, her hands, her lips, her hips—

Stop. It. Right. There.

I shook my head as I stepped onto the court, the noise of the crowd surrounding me, but it felt muted in comparison to the chaos inside my mind. Diana Taurasi was a living legend, and now I had to play alongside her. I had spent months battling against her on the court, and now she was going to be my teammate.

Great. Just what I needed.

As the game began, I focused on my breathing, trying to block out the fact that she was always right beside me, moving with that effortless grace that had everyone talking. The first few minutes were a blur of adrenaline and deafening cheers, the thrill of the crowd igniting a fire in me. I was quick on my feet, executing plays and sinking shots. But every time I caught a glimpse of Diana out of the corner of my eye, a rush of irritation mixed with something dangerously close to desire surged through me.

“Nice pass!” she called out after I made an assist, and my heart raced, my body responding to her enthusiasm despite my annoyance. I shot her a glare, determined to keep my focus. “Shut your mouth and focus on the game, Taurasi.”

She chuckled, that infuriating laugh that somehow sent butterflies through me. “Just saying, kid. You might actually be useful.”

As the game wore on, we fell into a rhythm. The crowd erupted every time we executed a play, the energy lifting me higher with each basket. But every time Diana scored or made a defensive stop, I could feel the heat radiating from her, and it made my competitive spirit flare. I hated that I was so drawn to her.

I was that stupid moth who crashed against the glass of the lighting bulb.

By the end of the first half, we were in the lead, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. But as we huddled together, I could feel her presence just behind me, an electric charge that made it hard to concentrate on the coach’s strategy. I forced myself to focus on the game plan, but all I could think about was how close she was, how I could feel the warmth radiating off her.

After the final buzzer sounded, signaling our victory, the cheers of the crowd washed over me like a tidal wave. But before I could relish the win, I turned to find Diana standing right there, a triumphant grin plastered across her face. “See? Not so bad playing with me, huh?”

“Don’t push it,” I shot back, unable to hide the smirk threatening to break through.

She stepped closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s wrong baby?”

My arms fell, as I walked to be just beside her, my lips close to her ear, my heart racing for reasons I refused to acknowledge. “I said don’t fucking push it”

“Star Power: O’Hara and Taurasi Prove They’re a Force to Be Reckoned With”

With that, we made our way to the after-party, the tension sizzling between us like a live wire. The place was packed, music blasting and lights flashing in every direction. I grabbed a drink, needing something to cool the heat rising in my cheeks from our earlier banter. But as the night wore on, and the small talk with people who I didn’t really care about, but for some reason they cared about me turned poisoned, I couldn’t shake the feeling of her presence. It was intoxicating and maddening all at once.

The atmosphere was full with excitement, laughter spilling from all corners of the room. I tried to drown out the noise, but every beat of the music seemed to pulse in time with my heart, and every glance in Diana’s direction sent a rush of heat through me.

I caught her across the room, chatting animatedly with some teammates, her laughter cutting through the crowd like a siren call. I tried to focus on my drink, but my eyes kept drifting back to her. The way she moved, the way she commanded attention, it was infuriating and captivating at the same time. I hated that she could pull me in like this.

“Earth to Victoria!” a A’ja nudged me, pulling me from my thoughts. “Girl you good? You’ve been staring at Taurasi like she’s about to jump off a cliff.”

“Shut up,” I replied, rolling my eyes even as I felt the heat creeping up my neck. “I’m just… observing.”

“Observing, huh? Is that how we calling that this days? You’ve got that look, like you’re about to take her out or something.”

“More like I want to beat the shit out of her” I shot back, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

But the truth was, I was feeling anything but hostile. The tension was thick in the air, and I could sense Diana moving closer, the hum of energy sparking between us like static electricity. She was a force of nature, and I hated that I wanted to get swept up in it.

I made my way through the crowd, drink in hand, hoping to find a quieter corner. I stood on a secluded part of the place, the music now muffled for the walls that separated me from the chaotic mess inside, but somehow, it was peaceful, well as peaceful as you could be in a party, that was until I felt a presence behind me.

I didn’t even had to look back, my head just hung low knowing exactly who was there.

“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light, even though my heart raced.

She looked at me, eyes glinting with mischief. “Let what go? The fact that we actually make a pretty good team? Or the fact that you’re secretly obsessed with me?”

“Fuck. Off.” I shot back, crossing my arms. “You know what? Every time you speak I actually consider throwing you into the nearest wall.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” she replied, stepping closer, the air crackling between us.

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to back down. “I don’t think you really want to find out.”

“Why not? It could be fun,” she challenged, her voice low, enticing.

I felt my resolve slipping, drawn to her in a way that made my skin prickle with awareness. We were standing too close, the heat of her body igniting something deep within me.

Suddenly, the playful banter shifted, and I was acutely aware of every inch between us. “You’re fucking impossible,” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat.

“And you hate that you love it,” she shot back, her gaze steady, daring me to disagree.

I found myself leaning closer, caught in her magnetic pull. I couldn’t help it; the tension had become unbearable.

“Is this how you deal with the girls that make you feel threatened Taurasi?” I breathed, my heart racing.

“Only the ones that are pretty” she replied, her voice low and smooth.

Before I knew what I was doing, I pushed her shoulder lightly, my frustration boiling over. “How about you stop acting like a bitch who own the fucking place,” I hissed, but the fight was half-hearted.

“Yeah? How about I don’t” she smirked, pushing back against me with just enough force to knock me off balance. “Maybe I’ll own you too.”

I laughed, a sound laced with disbelief and desire. “You really think you’re the shit don’t you?”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she took a step closer, her breath mingling with mine. “Why don’t you find out?”

The room faded away as I stared into her eyes, the challenge hanging heavy between us.

And. I. Leaned. In.

I leaned in!!! Can you fucking believe that????

And suddenly we were kissing

It was raw and heated, our lips crashing together in a mix of frustration and longing.

It was reckless and intoxicating, and I hated how much I craved her. My hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as she deepened the kiss, her fingers threading through my hair.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless and wide-eyed, I felt a mix of triumph and disbelief. “What the fuck Taurasi” I whispered, half-laughing, half-stunned.

Diana smirked, the challenge still burning in her gaze. “I really think you know what the fuck O’Hara”

And just like that, she left, but now there was an undercurrent of something deeper, a connection I hadn’t expected but couldn’t ignore. I hated that I was drawn to her, that the fire between us was undeniable. But maybe, just maybe, this was a battle I was finally willing to lose.

Wait did I really said that?

"What the Hell Just Happened? Why Do Victoria O’Hara Always Ends Up In This Position?"

Requests are Open!

Masterlist

[oh-no-its-bird]

I would love to read founders konoha from the kids, teens and adults based on their interactions so much.

I just want the kids to be 'huh. Not what I was expecting' and just all the horror stories heard

Give the teens so much 'oh no, that's hot' and it's worse bc you were previously enemies so you could pine over an enemy that wasn't available but now it's a chance.

Adults just bonding over their kids antics. Yes I know it would be more but let them bond over than just fighting, though they can be like 'it was cool/difficult move you pulled'

I THINK THAT IT JUST HAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL !!!

Obviously, we see very little of early Konoha as is. And what we do see is all from the perspective of like, those at the very, very top of it, in charge of it all, planning, all that.

THE AMOUNT OF FUCKING "FORBIDDEN ROMANCES" THAT ARE HAPPENING IN THE VILLAGE IS SO REAL THO. LIKE. Ok so u have all these shiobi kids, (many of which are probably wired to be attracted to deadly things, just by virtue of how theyre raised) going from isolated communities where the dating pool consists of arranged marriages and the same guys youve known since u were 5, suddenly thrust into a setting with so many other shinobi kids and clans that it takes actual effort to keep track of. And also you have pre set sterotypes and relationships to go off of just based off of their clan alignment, and all this melodrama about becoming friends (or more) with the people who, a year ago, you were expected to KILL.

And you also have the exact same thing but playing out with allied clans, where some kids are coming to the "rescue" of their allies. I bet some of them like look forward to seeing their allied clan counterparts in whatever monthly or even yearly trips they no doubt beg to be let to go on. Just for the opportunity to see their friends or crushes that one single time a year-- BUT NOW THEY LIVE IN THE SAME VILLAGE !!!

These guys are losing their MINDS

The parents have the most genuine beef between them, even while the children may be louder about it-- but the children's antics are pulling the parents together. Maybe because they need to at least try to set a good example, maybe because they just need someone to be able to share a glance with and go "can you believe this shit?"

I just love thinking ab specifically not even how messy the Uchiha and Senju kids would be living in proximity, but like just tossing in all these different clans from all over.

Bc at first, when its just Senju and Uchiha, its at least straight forward. But then you start mixing in other major clans-- Hyuuga, Nara, and it gets messier. And then the smaller clans are also getting mixed in, Orochi, Hatake, Shiranui, etc. And then more big clans arrive, and even more smaller, and now there are civilians here, and a lot of the younger clan members have never even interacted with a civilian outside of their jobs, and it's just so messy.

What do you do when a battlefield crush is suddenly living only a few minutes away? When you're suddenly seeing them daily? Even potentially going on missions with them? There's going to be so much pigtail pulling and just awful idiot shinobi flirting via mutual harassment

Anyways I firmly believe that there was a major baby boom in the first couple of years of Konoha being founded, many of which were probably idiot teenagers fooling around bc they couldnt manage to go on a mission with an enemy clan member without the crazy tension getting to them, send tweet.

ALSO !!! It would be such a great medium to tackle writing fun clan rumors and stereotypes about clans and also people! I want to see random people gossip about the founders !!!

[siriusblackdevotee]

I just saw a fanart of Sirius and Snape. What was that? Why was that hot? How the fuck was that hot??? TELL ME ABOUT THEM! I'M NOT GETTING THEM OUT OF MY BRAIN. What is the deal here??!?!?!?

Is the fanart from intotheswollenriver...bc yeah, god they are hot.

It's hot because they absolutely hate each other but they would also wholeheartedly trust each other when it comes to achieving their number one goal, which is protecting Harry. Like their vibes are enemies, so a divorced couple with phenomenal co parenting skills?? Best friend of Lily, best friend of James??

Besides that, I'm pretty sure they have a lot of parellels. Which is why I reallyy love shipping them.

Sirius hated his home life but he was forced to live back there again though it was for a short while, Severus also lived back in his childhood home, though he spent most of his time Hogwarts for his career.

Sirius and Severus had a huge part in the deaths of the Potters, and therefore felt responsible/guilty. "I as good as killed them." (Can't remember the quote) and Severus's...well you know.

Other DEs suspecting Severus to be a traitor and other Order allies actually convicting Sirius as the traitor?? Also the literal ex death eater believes Sirius was a DE and the wrongfully convicted one doesn't even know Severus had a dark mark?? Like??

There's more but I can't remember lol.

Snupin is sad angst but snirius is like...angry angst. Snupin is recovering from their teenage bs and the war but snirius is making it worse. Like... reverting? Relapsing??

Because Sirius says shit like he wasn't proud of his teenage treatment towards Severus, and drops quotes like oh the world isn't black and white harry or whatever and then turns around and says Severus deserved the Prank happening (although I think this happened first) and speaks to Severus like he's the worst scum on earth, even before he finds out Severus was a DE. Like despite how impulsive he is, Sirius does understand, he has logic and everything but literally all of that goes out the window the moment he talks to Severus?? Like, heed your own words bro, why can't you??

Severus gets to be an asshole to Sirius for obv reasons, PTSD and all. I forgive him.

Anyways, they literally get under each other's skin like no other. The only marauders era characters to be written this way. Like it's been more than a decade since their childhood "feud" (/sarc) and they still revert back to their teenage self whenever they fight. It's so fascinating because we know Severus is the rationally composed one. Even Sirius has his moments.

And yet, even though every one of their canon interactions were bitter and heated, Severus handles the unconscious body of Sirius carefully, he doesn't knock his head around on purpose (unlike Sirius with Severus's body) and Severus genuinely did not want Sirius to die. Before they even properly had a conversation, Severus seems to have uh moved on? He was ready to forget the whole "getting back" at Sirius thing, he's over it but all that past resentment, anger and bitterness comes back immediately the moment he talks to Sirius. Which, I don't blame him for. Human response honestly.

At his core, he understands that no matter how horrible Sirius was to him, this is Lily's friend, this is someone Harry cares about. So kind of like Harry to Draco, this guy is a piece of shit but he doesn't deserve death

And this is somewhat similar to Sirius's oh Snape? Hated that Slytherin guy, sucking up to all those horrible slytherins, I wouldn't mind if he died back then lol... what do you mean he was a death eater? Are you sure?

Hence, they are enemies and lovers. I don't think they'll ever move past the enemy phase. So they are both. Their conversations are 100% full of witty quick comebacks and sarcasm. They've lived through experiences literally no one else shares. Like who else would know what it's like to unintentionally play a key part in orchestrating the Potter's death??

Even besides that, how they're written too. Severus is poor, working class, bullied, ugly, greasy hair, goes from the lowest of the barrel and works his way up, rational, and introverted, inherits almost nothing valuable from his pureblood mother. Sirius is rich, highest of the highest elite, peaked in highschool, handsome, gorgeous hair, falls from disgrace—a young man with a huge inheritance to an escaped convict, irrational and extroverted, inherits like?? Everything?? From his family???

Also, there's Severus who hates his name from his father because abusive guy and Sirius who hated what his family represented. Hmm, they're not exactly the same but the vibes....

Like it's so...ugh compelling?? It SPEAKS to me.

[petrichal]

Look, I really love KobyLu, but specifically KobyLu where Koby is a marine and Luffy is a pirate and nothing else, because I LOVE seeing how people handle Koby's inner conflict while also maintaining his dream in canon.

Lead this up with Luffy being himself; he's not fazed by what other people think of their relationship, doesn't give two shits about it, but he's emotionally intelligent-- he goes along with Koby's insistence that they talk away from prying eyes (and isn't it such a pirate thing to do, to duck and hide and whisper under the canopy of leaves, to steal away treasure under the dead of night? Luffy's selfish and possessive of those he loves, so he's gleeful that there's a world where he can see a side of Koby no one else can), and *absolutely no one* would think to ask Luffy about love or dating so it's all the more easier for him to not slip his secret, this back-and-forth meeting with a marine upstart, the first person he had met from when his journey had just begun.

And as time goes on, they both get stronger, monsters in their own right and maybe more distant. But Koby's a sap so every time he sees Luffy on the newspaper after a dangerous stunt, he thinks he's so reckless but he thinks it with such endless admiration and pride that he thinks his heart might just burst. (On the same stretch of ocean, Luffy sees news of Koby too, rising up in ranks after each new exploit and his excitement grows because Koby's gonna be an Admiral and one day, he's gonna have to chase Luffy too. and if he's going to replace one of those shitty Admirals in office, well, then that's a bonus as well.)

If anyone asks them why they keep looking at the newspapers, always staying at the same page and on the same picture, Koby would deflect. He's selfish in that way too; the longer he stayed with the Marines, the more he knew he had to act against the corruption within, and he wasn't about to ruin his career by claiming he's been seeing the future Pirate King in secret. There was also that promise he made to Luffy, something about "catching him eventually" that Koby should've probably thought about harder in hindsight but remembering Luffy's sunny grin made his admission all the more worth it.

(and Helmeppo would sigh, because he's been with this idiot for 2 years and while he can't see what the hell Koby's been seeing in Luffy, if he sees even a trace of that ratty straw hat on the front page of the news, he's gonna pass it to Koby.)

Luffy, though. Luffy is loud. To people close to him- his crew, his trusted allies- he'd yap their ears off about this shy marine guy with incredible tenacity and potential for power and everyone goes woah so you know him? he's a friend? he's your WHAT and he laughs because no one really asked him before and wow, this really is everyone's first time hearing about this, huh?

(and Law knows Koby- Koby the Hero, who was around during the Rocky port incident- and he turned towards the Strawhats with a questioning, alarmed stare only to be met by the same look. Secret brothers, and now a lover?, they'd mutter under their breaths. Zoro though, he looked like he was simply being told what the day was and raised an eyebrow as if it was no big deal. As if he knew already. what the fuck?)

So when Marine Captain Koby comes to visit (under the pretext of wanting to arrest Luffy), waving his hands like he was greeting a friend rather than an enemy, wide smile on his face to match Luffy's, the crew leans back and sighs, and let him chase their captain all around whatever island they'd be docked at at the time.

And, well, if they happen to settle by the shore after that, entangled limbs and hushed talks of dreams, the world, of what lies after holding hands and chaste kisses- that's Koby and Luffy's business entirely.