#and how his runs on both differ in their relationship with the run before (baron w flash and pérez w wonder woman) and how he follows up

[themyscirah]

Started a post comparing the Messner-Loebs Flash and WW runs and their successes and failures (imo) in portraying certain themes and their similarities to each other but it started getting long and im a very slow tumblr post writer so that's a meta for another day. I do have what I think are well formed opinions on this and I'm fresh off of reading both runs so you guys are not allowed to let me forget abt writing this all up okay. Okay.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

A Heart Of Gold pt.2

Y! Noble Child Nicholas x Mother! Maid! Reader x Y! Maid Maria x Y! Baron Charles

word count: roughly 10k

warnings: heavy angst, mentions of abuse (both physical and verbal), mentions of death, murder, violence, gore, blood, yandere tendencies/behaviour, weird relationship dynamics, anger issues, morally gray reader, child loss, mentions of alcohol addiction, domestic violence, breakdowns, morally grey yanderes, creepy behaviour, generational trauma, religious themes, reader in this is christian, cursing, not accurate depictions of history!

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

Author's note: Phew, this turned out a very different than the initial idea I had. haha Still, hope you enjoy it!

“God, let me repent in your name. Allow me to witness the beauty and grace of nature, to cry and scream and know of my faults and erase them in your name. Let me love my neighbours, like you loved me. I will do only good, I promise, just grant me my new golden heart. Please, I beg you, free me.”

The seasons shifted again.

They morphed into the other, faster than you could blink, quicker than you could run after them and plead to stay, swift and merciless.

Death was the same.

Breathing in ice particles for air, snow crunching under the weight of your boots, you made your way down-hill. The sun hadn't come out yet, not that she really planned to anyways in the middle of winter—but the villagers were hopeful, at least tried to be. But you weren't. You knew frost had crusted the earth and left only destruction in its wake. The others were simply to optimistic. A bunch of idiots really, thinking this winter could be different, that the nobles would care about you, at least somewhat more, after the new baron had taken over the lands.

A new head only meant one thing; trouble and higher pay. The already scarce crops which were salvaged would only serve to fill his pockets. If you commoners were mindless worker ants, then the nobility sure enough were bloodsucking mosquitos draining you all until nothing but dust remained of your crumbling bones.

Perhaps you wouldn't have had to worry about any of this—not about your frozen solid fingertips from the worn-down knitted gloves nor about the burning in the bottom of your stomach from the lack of anything edible, if you just had not married him.

At first he had seemed promising, a nice clean face, good salary, stern tone—he had been a baker for god's sake, what could go wrong!

Oh how naive you had been.

Before you knew, heavily pregnant with your second, his bakery was in ruins, all the customers avoiding his bakery specifically like the plague. At first you were confused—he was a good baker and kept everything neat. Then he came drunk the first time. Reeking of cheep booze, he completely blacked out on your shared martial bed—which at that time at least had possessed a bedframe. You were furious with him, after all you were an only child and your parents had carefully picked him out, because of his financial status and now here he was wasting his money on alcohol while his baby was growing in your womb.

You couldn't break free from him, even after the birth of his second child, even after the tradegy of your first. Your wings were clipped—you were married, you had duties, responsibilities, children. Running away would only bring pain and shame upon you and your whole family. You didn't even want to imagine what the villagers would do to you if they found you after fleeing. All the blame would be placed on you—you the cruel mother, the miserable daughter, the horrible wife. Much rather, you would pluck your own hair than experience any of such shaming.

But death was a constant threat. And one that terrified you at that. After having closed down his bakery, you had been forced into work, anything you could find, really, anything that paid. Yet even that seemed to have not been enough for the monster your husband unraveled to be—because soon enough his explosive episodes started. He would roar and cry, stagger from wall to wall in your shared home, pant like a beast as he hunted after you, just to reach for your hair, clutching it as if he wanted to rip it out for you, before—

You hissed, digging your blunt nails into your scarf, this was in the past, he no longer could terrify you so. Keeping your gaze on the road on the pearly white snow reaching up to your knees you remembered to breathe, to calm down. You needed a crystal clear head for the interview.

No matter how much you wanted to melt away like the snow under the sun’s rays—which never seemed to grace you—you couldn't. Your life meant something to others, if you weren't there anymore, if you would actually choose to travel with the wind and disappear, then you would allow that man victory. But you just could not after having managed to slip through his grasp and land an opportunity at a new life.

So you walked, pushed through, even as you grimaced from the odd sensation of needles pricking your toes—your shoes not suitable for the weather, because nothing would stop you from at least trying for a better life. A life without him.

The estate was huge.

And admittedly, you were frazzled on how you managed to even land this job in the first place. If it weren't for Aunt Jane, you probably would've never even laid eyes on something so majestic, dressed in soft brown, winged windows and with elaborate woodwork and sculptures; it was a mix of everything you could only ever hear tales about.

Not that you minded, you did resent the nobility and the royals with all their spendings as if they didn't bleed you and the others dry on a daily to finance their overindulgence that was slowly leading the empire to ruin. Or at least you imagined it to be so.

Nevertheless grandmother surely would've scolded you for being so cynical. The only other person besides your aunt that you had known to be humane and she was six feet under your childhood home’s apple tree.

You sighed, shaking your head. This wasn't the time to be sentimental. She was dead, for years now. And you had moved on, like everyone did. So brushing over your skirt for the last time, you stepped even closer to the gate. God, even the gate was twirly and whimsical; something one could only achieve through the hands of a master with years of experience—or so you imagined, you had no clue actually.

“You—you the new maid?” you flinched, eyes darting to meet the eyes of a gruff man, armor covering him.

You nodded, eyes fixed on his face—really the only feature bare to the sight of others, which did make you wonder if he wasn’t cold with nothing protecting his nose or throat. Bennet, your little boy, if he had stood here instead of him, he surely would’ve caught a cold by now.

“Come. I ain’t got all day woman.” the stranger’s voice was as harsh as sandpaper, which did make you wonder if they provided him with meals or water at all. Odd. Weren’t soldiers—also guards usually the most well-taken care of? But also what did you know, really.

So scurrying, with a soft sigh and enlarged eyes you stepped past him and immediately you felt so out of place.

Carrying scars of a past similar to that of a lot of commoner’s yet pushing through a gate meant only for the elite—it felt wrong, illegal even, as if you were committing a crime. You looked over your shoulder hastily, suddenly overcome with trepidation, with the image of being tackled and shackled by the very guard who let you in. What if he had mistaken you, accused you of trespassing, what if your aunt had messed things up and your children would be left motherless and—

“Just follow the cobblestones, then turn left.” he grumbled, and you calmed again. Seems he got lazy with you, sensing you were not a threat—see, you didn’t need to worry. You weren’t a criminal, like some others commoners vying for the riches the wealthy withheld, you were just here for a job you desperately needed, no one had ever been thrown into prison for this, right? At least you hoped so.

The freshly fallen snow crunched under your shoes again, the same ones you always wore—with a big hole under the left heel. If you had more of what others had, such as the lord (even if you still resented the aristocracy) you hopefully would be working for, then you wouldn’t have to worry about this, in fact then you wouldn’t need any of this—no begging, no pleading, no kneeling. You would be independent, no need to rely on your fool for a husband, you could just cut him out of your life, or cut him off. Shivering at the thought you pulled your scarf much tighter, clenching your hands around eachother.

Little did you know that all of this was the starting point for a life of sin your soul had sworn to repent from.

The interview had went well—as well as it could for your circumstances that is. They wanted you to live here, in the servant's quarters, and nothing you did could change the old woman's mind. That meant leaving your child in the hands of your Aunt Jane.

You loved your Aunt, she was truly a saint—albeit overly strict at times and very ignorant, but she was old, too old for your liking and could never emate the same warmth your grandmother had. Sometimes, in rare cases such as these, you did wish your own grandmother would crawl out of her grave and fix everything for you—like how she used to when you were a child, brewing you tea from pines during the cold winter months while telling you tales of all kinds. You wished that she now would stand in front of you, promising you that everything you were doing would benefit your darling and that he could truly flourish and live a life he deserved.

Because your sole reason in life was your child—your little pearl with his red runny nose, sniffling with each spoon-fed of his soup. You just craved to abandon all the shadows of the past.

Yet life wasn’t gentle with you neither then nor now—God seemed to really not favour you as one of its pawns, because why else would you be assigned to take care of the most bratty child you had ever met?

“Water.” the new heir, to pratically everything, snapped, voice smoother and deeper, not betraying his juvenile features and his childish antics you had learned and grown accustomed to in the few weeks you had been working here.

Swiftly, you poured him a cup of water, handing it to him with a somewhat strained smile. It was a warmer day than usual, which was why the window of his study was left wide open—and your teeth made to chatter the whole time you tried to serve and appease him.

Only, it seemed, that nothing could appease the brown-haired young man this morning, because in the blink of an eyes a glass shattered next to your head, making you jump up in surprise. Suddenly your pulse was pounding in your ears and for a moment you were back in that small hut again next to the river, with the face of your husband red from anger and the shattered bottle laying at your feet like the pieces of your broken heart, as your baby was crying. Why was he crying? Unconsolable and—

“Are you trying to poison me?” you snapped out of it as he spat out the words. Swallowing you tried to come up with an excuse, something to calm the storm in him.

“Master Nicholas of course I wasn’t—”

“Then serve me water instead of lukewarm piss!”

Silence.

Your face fell—you weren’t sure if it was due to exhaustion or just having to endure his childishness or it was the possibility that if he continued to complain about every single thing you did, you would lose your job. And you couldn’t have that, no matter how much you resented him for being as explosive as the man who's name you refused to utter, he was an aristocrat and not him.

So sighing, collecting the remains of yourself, you did what you always had done when your own mother used to have meltdowns due to delirium in her old age—gift her with love she didn't deserve but this time it was directed to a (man)child who you at least assumed to deserve it—because a mother's love was something sacred.

You hugged him.

It wasn't really a conscious decision per se, you had just wanted to show him some love; but to pull him into your embrace—you hadn't thought that you actually would dare to; not just out of courage but be able to stomach touching one of the upper class, who most definitely thought commoners and even servants were on the same level as pigs; stupid and dirty, probably carrying some time of diseases.

That's why you had dreadfully expected him to push you away, to scream to cry out in revulsion, perhaps even raise his hand against you; he was allowed to after all—yet nothing.

He froze instead.

“Maid—” he didn't even know your name, didn’t need to. You were just a fly; someone he could swat away with the back of his hand and no one would bat an eye. And you had the audacity to hug him, you, how dare you, you vile, little, tiny ant. His hands raised, clenching into fists, teeth grinding together in absoloute annoyance and yet he couldn't find it in himself to push you away.

Your arms, your beating heart; something about you was human. Oddly human. Much more human than he ever could be. And then your scent engulfed him. Moss and wet—like the open fields. Warm and motherly—like her.

He failed to take notice of you pulling away. His gaze was glossy, something was pinching his chest and he was disturbed. It hurt. Your touch itself and also the absence of your touch was agonizing.

“I apologize, I overstepped.” anxiety rung in your tone, lips pressed into a thin line. He knew that look, the fear of losing something precious—the fear of having ruined another banquet because he had smashed a teacup to the ground. And the fear he felt now, as you slipped back to being a remote figure; a background character, you wanted to fade away from between his fingers like sand, disappear in the billions of your kind when he had finally sighted something of his liking.

“I—” he cleared his throat, scowl moving back into place—the noble façade returning after the too often happening slip-ups. “I will excuse you this once.”

Yet no matter how much he tried to hide it, you took notice of the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, but you didn’t give it much thought, much more relived to be allowed to continue working here.

If only you had suspected something— if only you had known what you had awakened in Nicholas on that fateful day.

You met the lord of the house some time after.

It was an accident really, you hadn't even meant to be on the staircase at such a dubious hour—it all had been just for Nicholas; he requested you to bring him warm soup and bread after refusing to eat dinner with his aunt, for reasons that made your chest ache and tighten in guilt.

Still you froze, clutching the tray in your sweaty palms, hoping and praying that he wouldn't demand of you to know who you were rushing the tray to—you were beyond exhausted, just having returned from the village; travelling by foot took up time and patience and it only broke your heart every single time to leave your baby behind in the hands of someone else; especially in the hands of a woman as old as Aunt Jane was. You were guilty of being a bad mom, you knew as much, but Bennett was so easily frightened and you weren’t allowed to take him in and—

“Are you new?”

You froze.

Just having passed by him, in hopes he wouldn't take notice of you, you truly had believed he would just let you slip by. At least you had wished he would. You didn't want to converse with another soul, especially not a man with a voice similary deep to that of your deadbeat husband's.

Still you had to say something. You couldn't just flitter away.

So you opened up your mouth.

“Yes, your lordship.” you recited the title you had been taught.

“Who hired you? I have never seen you before.” his tone was demanding, clipped and stern, but there was a soft edge to it, that made you take a peek back over your shoulder, only to startle at the sight. He was standing a few stairs below you, stoic as a statue and with a face hidden by the shadows of the night, the castle only dim-light by the tea-lamp in his grasp held too far away from his features to make anything out—except the penetrating stare you could feel slicing through you; judging and scrutinizing you.

Calm down, you're not a criminal. You're just doing your job.

You turned around, bowing your head and glancing away—somehow showcasing submission felt the right thing to do.

“The head maid, your lordship.”

“Ah.” you could hear some tension slip. “Good.” he probably nodded and you assumed he was finished with his questions until you heard him clear his throat, stepping closer.

“Do you work in the kitchen?” he took another step up, until you both stood on the same step.

“No, your lordship, I serve the young lord.” you answered while feeling his breath blow at your forehead—was it just you or was he standing too close?

“I see.” again with the stern yet awkward answer, as if he himself wasn't sure what more to ask—as it already was obvious that you weren't a robber nor a thief, just a servant working dutifully as he expected of them.

Yet there was something about you, a certain something emanating from you that just made him—

Time seemed to stand still and he with it after he leaned forward, nose so close to your crown it nearly bumped into it.

Sniff.

Was he—was he sniffing you?

You face immediately morphed into abject horror, worried that you stunk, you had been travelling all day and that mostly by foot. You gritted your teeth, cheeks flush with colour, ashamed; not having considered the possibility of sweat sticking to you like a foul-smelling perfume.

“Unbelievable.” he murmured, mumbling more to himself than you really. You could see his right hand, the one without the lamp, twitch as if he was tempted to reach out to you.

“You smell exactly like—” he cut himself off, and his features morphed into something unreadable as you stole a few glances at his face.

And before anything else could unfold he was gone, having sprinted down the stairs to god-knows where, having left you puzzled and confused by his reaction. Finally continuing to climb up the stairs you started to conclude that the entire nobility had to be weird people that were oddly obsessed with smell.

Life slowly but surely took some shape—as some sort of routine settled.

Even with how often you were stuck between work as a maid and being a mother, pendling between the manor and the village as often as you were allowed to, you still somehow felt more put together than before. As if each piece of you was slowly glued back together; as if God slowly saw you too and each of your prayers, one by one, would slowly be answered by him. And all came with the arrival of Spring; endless hope bloomed in your chest for a better world—for a less burdened life.

Yet your momentary happiness was ripped away again, replaced by somberness because what the fuck, god?

What was, she doing here?

Your childhood nemesis, as childish as it sounded—the girl who was always smarter, prettier, better than you, so much so that your mom couldn't shut up about it; Maria.

“(Y/n)!” she chirped, voice like nails against a chalkboard.

She repeated your name again—chanted it like a prayer that would be whispered under one's breath in sermons on sunday mornings. Only hers sounded like she was trying to summon something evil that would split the word apart—or at least your head, because it was buzzing in pain from her nagging tone.

“For God's sake Maria! What is it?” you clutched the edge of the kitchen table, huffing in exasperation, having just spent the last five minutes listening to her call your name while you were busy preparing the Master's dinner. A vein was surely about to pop out of your forehead, because this woman just giggled in response and painfully stupid at that.

“What’s with the sour face?” she chuckled, resting her cheek on her palm, black streaks of hair falling over her shoulders because she—like everyone else besides you and the lord's son—was already ready for bed.

“I am trying to haste! And you're chatting my ear off again—.” you quiped, gaze narrowing at her like you usually did when you were disapproving of something—hoping you managed to look as intimidating as your grandma did back then when she had caught you with your entire fist in the jar of strawberry jam. “Besides, why are you still up? You should be off to bed, shift starts early as always.” hopefully she would take the hint and leave.

Instead, she laughed.

Of course she would. Like she laughed when she stole your favourite red ribbon when you both were eight.

“You’re still up and I don't see anyone scolding you for it. So why is it wrong when I do it?” she snickered, truly the bane of your existence, especially because she slipped off of the chair, in her nightgown—shamelessly; she was not worrying about one of the others, let alone the lord, seeing her like this. Actually, scratch that, she probably wanted him to see her like this.

“Come on, you're so tired all the time, I thought I would offer you some of my company.” she drew closer, until her breath rung loudly in your ear, and her piercing blues for eyes slithered over you like a serpent’s tail.

“Laughing keeps young. You should laugh more.” she observed and it almost felt like a threat— she wanted you to react, to show visibly whatever it is that she managed to evoke in you.

You recoiled from the proximity, almost spooked by the sudden closeness. If it weren't for the wooden crucifix dangling from your neck, you almost would've feared that she was a demoness with those piercing eyes of hers. But even if she wasn't, her eyes still betrayed evil buried so deep in her core that you could only shudder and the snappy words you usually would retort with died on your tongue. She always had been weird, but it somehow was only more unsettling seeing her act the same way as a grown woman.

“I—I really should haste.” you were quick to pick up the tray you had finished preparing and even quicker to leave, without looking back at her even once.

Well, perhaps it had been for the better, because if you had looked back you would have seen the wet muscle of her mouth flicking out of its enclosure to lick over where you just touched on the counter.

You, the girl who's ribbons she had stolen, who's knitted scarf she would inhale when you weren't looking—just another kid from the neighbourhood but you were so much more than that, so much more to her. You the woman who clung so pathetically to religion, hiding behind it, when you both knew about the kiss at nine. Only you seemed to have forgotten—but she hadn’t.

Often times dealing with the young lord was bone-scraping work. Hard, exhausting, as if you were plucking weeds from the crops instead of following him like a shadow.

Somehow at some point, you had migrated from being just a maid to being only his personal maid, aiding him with everything. Truly puzzling, yet somehow endearing—because maybe you were too prideful and cocky, but you liked to imagine your own little Bennett growing into such a fine young man as Master Nicholas (only appearance-wise). He was lean, tall with a fair face and soft brown curls that were reminiscent of your own child’s wild locks (even if it was the one feature his father had passed down, you still found it endearing).

But truth be told, maybe that's why you were so inclined to serve Master Nicholas with more softness than you usually would—not just out of fear and respect of the wealthy, not because the thought of losing this job would send you spiraling into a meltdown.

“Maid” his voice was startling, as usual. Maybe it was because it did not match his youthful face or maybe he would bark at you like a dog to command you around.

“Yes, Master Nicholas.” you addressed him, staying put on your spot next to the window overlooking the estate—the snow had melted by now. You wondered if Aunt Jane would allow him to play in the snow before it completely faded. Bennett would surely be upset if he had to wait a whole year to feel the ‘potato milk’ he had called it as a two-year old. The term still made you crack a smile even now.

“What are you looking at?” he startled you again; you hadn't notice him getting up to his feet and dragging himself closer to you—steps heavy against the creaking floorboard of his study. “You seem so—” he continued only to quiet down and come to stand an arm length away from you.

You glanced at him, waiting patiently for him to finish—even when all you craved to do was think about your little baby. But even as you gave him all the time he needed, the end of his sentence never came, instead he huffed and leaned against the wall joining you in on your habit of looking out the window with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

His eyes darted over the landscape—noticing the returning of the splendor of birds in the garden.

“Ugly birds.” he spat, “they're thieves.” he was glaring down at the magpie’s dancing around in the garden, flying from branch to branch and picking at the grass.

Your eyes flicked to him, then they averted back down. “At least they're free.” your muttered and your finger instinctively touched your ring finger—it was a simple band of metal, something cheap but something so binding it felt suffocating, as if you dared to pull it off of your finger you would be cursed, even if you hated the burden marriage laid on your shoulders.

“Free?” he looked over at you—really looked at you, scanning you from head to toe, then scoffed. “So you aren't free, maid?” he still hadn't bothered to learn your name, perhaps never would, but his eyes belied real softness underneath his constructed politeness.

“I thought father was more lenient with you servants.” he furrowed his brows, green eyes a shade darker—growing upset at the lord.

“No, Master Nicholas!” you quickly cut in, not wanting to cause dispute between father and son, startled that he was even able to make our your senseless mumbling.

“His lordship is a fair in his handling with us servants. You needn’t to worry.” you claimed surprising even yourself—but to some extent it was true. You never thought you would side with a noble, but here you were defending the lord’s honour; because truth be told he geninuely didn’t seem like a bad man, but he seemed like a strange man.

“Are you certain?” he blurted, insisting oddly enough. How atypical of him when he was usually apathic to everything not concerning him.

“Yes, Master Nicholas.” you nodded, a strained smile on your face, when you only could smile at Bennett earnestly with a clear conscious—and without betraying god. Still some things had to be done. It gets the job done. You could recall your grandmother saying each time before she whipped out the same old rag to clean the floors, that was barely on; only throughdreams and prayers alone. So yes, it wasn’t truthful, but it got the job done.

So stillness took over you both again and you truly believed he wouldn’t initate a conversation with you again.

“Call me Nicholas.” it seems you were wrong.

“Master Nicholas I can't—” your eyes had grown wide.

“Call me by my name.” he demanded again, his narrowed.

You swallowed thickly. This was definitely crossing some sort of boundaries—nobility and commoner's shouldn't mix, shouldn't be too familiar you both knew that, yet he still asked of you the impossible, insisting even. But seeing his softened gaze—the longing and craving for affection, the same way Bennett would look at you whenever you had to part from him—begging you to stay with him, you couldn’t let a word of protest slip from your tight throat. Your heart felt scorching hot in your chest and your tongue heavy as lead. God, please don’t let me lose this job.

“Nicholas.” you let his name slip—it felt odd, it was bare without the title.

He didn't say anything anymore after. And you would've assumed it was because of indifference if it wasn't for the cocky smile that spread across his lips.

Oh, if you just had known that he didn't just feel satisfied at the little trick that he played on you—that actually his heart beat a drum faster when you called him that. That he felt little shocks of electricity zap at his skin and run down his spine.

You just had confirmed it,

—that you were like her, his deceased mother, but so much better. You were like the mother he had always wanted, the one that was quiet, loving and nurturing, who was there for him, showed emotion, behaved like a human rather than someone with a stick up their ass. You may have smelled like her, like the open fields and woods she so loved more than anything else, including him, but you weren’t her and for that he was forever grateful, because—

you were beneath him.

You would have to do whatever he wanted. Whether it was accompanying him, bringing him dinner, calming him down from one of his meltdowns or sleeping together with him in his bed like he always wanted his mother to do.

He could keep you here with him.

For him you were just another dog on a leash anyways.

A week had passed by now, and you had grown accustomed to calling him by his first name, albeit only in private, for obvious reasons that is.

Only it seemed that his father still caught wind of it, because why else would the lord of the house specifically request you into his study, a frown on his face, his scrutinizing dark brown gaze travelling over your form.

“So,” he cleared his throat and you were screaming internally—you couldn't lose this position, you needed it, desperately so, your child need it. You couldn't start from zero again, being a servant for a noble paid better than most other jobs and even provided you with the meals and the housing—the Baron couldn’t just throw you out because of the request his child had made! At least you hoped he wouldn’t.

“—I heard my son favours you.” he blurted out, his words felt like a good lashing with a belt that made you want to recoil.

“I wouldn't know, your lordship.” you were quick to answer, hot in the face, blunt nails digging into your palms, hoping, praying, pleading with God that he wouldn't throw you out. That he was as nice as you thought he was; that he would continue to prove you wrong about the secret evil of the wealthy.

He paused, looked at you and the longer the silence between you stretched on the more you felt stifled by the threat looming over you like a shadow you couldn't shake off.

You couldn’t stand it anymore, so you spoke up.

“Please I—”

“Your presence is doing him good.” his voice cut yours down and you lowered your head, heart beating against your ribcage rapidly, he was going to— Wait.

What?

“Your lordship? Pardon?” you blinked. It seems that the years spend on this earth hadn’t made you much wiser because you were baffled by his comment.

He sighed, ascending from his seat to step in front of his desk. Clad in his usual sade suit crossed his arms over his chest and let his eyes were stray from your figure.

“I want you to continue as you are. You know, his mother passed away when he was young and it has,” he paused, “affected him since.” he finished putting emphasis on the last words while leaving out that affected meant Nicholas’ emotions being all over the place; so much so that one moment he could be calm and the next he would trash his entire study. But you didn't blame the lord for not elaborating, admitting such a thing was probably ashaming.

“I understand, your lordship.” you replied, heart heavy now for another reason as the fear faded—every child deserved a mother. Your own hadn't been the one for you, emotionally neglecting you, yet your grandmother had. So you sympathised with him; perhaps nannies had tried to fill the void, but they never quiet could've, not like a mother could at least. Maybe that’s why a part of you had been searching for something more—maybe that’s why a piece of you had been missing until Bennett was born.

“I will be there for him.” you replied. No matter how insufferable you had assumed the upper class to be— and truth be told they were — there were still human, as you, nothing but your worth differentiated you from them. They were just born better; richer, with more possibilities at hand, but Nicholas' life of hardship proved to you that even born with a golden spoon in one’s mouth, one’s soul could harbour hunger.

And somehow this made you feel closer to him. Initially you had feared him because he had reminded you of your dreaded husband you had fled from, but slowly you realized that he was like you in a sense; of your childhood self. His gaze would often mimic Bennett’s disappointment everytime you had to leave. In a way, you felt relieved at the lord’s encouragment, seen and acknowledged but to also supported to offer a fraction of your love to Nicholas too.

A smile stretched across your lips—not a fake one this time.

“That’s—”he exhaled, slumping sideways ever so slighty, with gentle curls slicked back, “that’s good to hear, (Y/n).”

You let your smile widen and eyes soften. His visible relief felt rewarding and his words bordering on praise were flustering. Everything about the lord was stern but gentle, a walking contradiction some might say, but somehow it just made sense for him to be this way—a baron, a lord to his people and servants reigning over his land with a firm hand yet a loving father, tender in the way he would speak about his heir’s battered soul. He would’ve been a man grandmother would’ve liked.

As the words died down on the both of your tongues, you awaited him to dimiss you. However he didn’t, in fact he didn’t even move—still as a statue. So you took it upon yourself to inquire whether you should leave him alone in the privacy of his study.

“If that was all, shall I take my leave now, your—”

“Do you—”he paused, “do you wear perfume?”

Your brows scrunched up.

Oh God no, not again. Did you perhaps stink again like that night. Hopefully not, because if you did, you would start to scrub every layer of your attire—from chemise to the outer layer of your skirt.

“No, your lordship.” you answered thickly. God, you hoped you didn’t smell of sweat.

“I see.” he answered ambigously, not comfirming nor denying your worries. Besides, he should know that you as a servant could hardly afford such a luxury—so was he actually mocking you, telling you to wear perfume? You hoped that it was just an odd fixation that all nobles beheld and not the latter.

“You’re dismissed.” he finally exclaimed and you felt relief. Quietly you stood up, nodding politely, before turning on your heel and exiting his study.

Oh, only if you knew how enticing you actually smelled to him. Like Juliane, but with something motherly and tenderly sticking to you, a better version of his deceased wife. A commoner, so ignorant to the life of nobility, that wasn’t even aware of how her features tugged into different directions every second, so unsued to using titles that he could tell you sometimes were about to slip-up and not address him properly.

You were remisicent of his first love; love that was fiery and strong, but you were like the spring, a budding rose with dull thorns. He felt the aching pang of love in his chest whenever your startled gaze met his and that scared Charles. To think his heart would start beating again after a decade—and that for nothing but a maid. He knew he had to be sensible, love was fictious in the life of the upper class and to experience such a gift for the second time was laughable.

But if that love was you — someone so sweet, even his own son started to soften around the edges— then maybe he could induldge himself a tad; enjoy life a little with you by his side.

Yeah, Charles would like to enjoy this life together with you, after forced to experience this perputel loneliness for nearly a decade. Maybe you two could even gift Nicholas a little sibling in the future, only after having slipped a ring of your finger that is.

Yeah, he would like to indluge. After all, one was only born once, right?

Life was sweeter now—not as sweet as the cherries you would pick in secret from the neighbour’s tree at seven or the first taste of sugar you ever had at twelve, but it was worthwhile.

Especially with your little toddler sticking to you like glue; Aunt Jane had brought him here to visit you, after having whined the entire last week because of you failing to visit him again. So your clever little boy had suggested that he just visited you.

“Mommy, you live here?” you chuckled softly at the awe in his voice.

“I work here, Ben’.” you replied, smiling at the familiar face of the guard, nodding at you.

“So that's the little lad.” the man you had learned was Jonathan and surprisingly younger than you by a few years—which his broad shoulders and gruff voice would never hint at.

You nodded looking down at your child as he babbled a greeting to the guard. Now you were standing a tad straighter, eyes softening as your grandmother’s always used to and as your mother’s never had for you.

You were transfixed with your own little one; standing there next to you, finally close to you with a heart you knew hadn’t felt agony the same way yours had. So your mind wandered off and you questioned if he ever would experience what you had, but you knew he wouldn’t, because you simply wouldn’t allow fate to be this cruel to him as it had been to you. God was still listening to your prayers afterall. And suddenly you couldn't help but imagine Bennett grown up, flourished into a strong man as Jonathan with broad shoulders and biceps that could make anyone shudder in fear or perhaps like the lord himself, with a clipped tone yet a soft gaze and presence that was overwhelming.

“Good day to you too lad.” he nodded at your little extension, watching how proud you were of him—and he had to admit he liked it. The smile on your face was sweeter than the scent of flowers hanging in the air and your little buddy was shyly adorable. He offered you another one of his own smiles that inevitably ended up looking grim, while you both passed by him to disappear into the manor and leave him to sigh to himself again.

“Mommy—Mommy look that looks like a person!” was the first thing that left Bennett’s mouth, brown curls bouncing up and down with his jumps, big-eyed fascination clear across his face as he stared at the oil painting of the lord and his son hung up on the staircase. Even though you were feeling bleak from all the unfortunate circumstances, your soul ripping apart that you had been forced to neglect your son for so long— you couldn’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm feeling warmth spread in you from the fact that your baby was with you in the moment.

“Shh, quieter Ben’.” you scolded him as you grabbed his tiny fist, leading him towards the kitchen, worried someone might take notice. You didn’t want to get yourself into trouble—and because you knew how strict the head maid could be, you lead your little boy into the kitchen.

However the moment you entered you wished you hadn’t because for the love of god, what was she again doing here, just loitering around; doing absolutely the bare minimum.

“If that isn’t my most favourite person ever!” she immediately chirped, as she usually did, stopping chewing on the piece of pastry in her hands to round the courner of the counter, adamant on annoying you on her short lunchbreak as always with the fattest grin anyone could have on their face—only to gasp.

“What—” her eyes widened, almost dropping her meal.

“What, what is that?” she pointed at your child as if he was a weirdly coloured bug that had slipped in. Unbelievably crude and rude.

“That's my son, Maria.”

“Your son? That's Ben you can't shut up about?” she grimaced and you felt your eye twitch, because you had mentioned him once in her presence.

“Bennett for you.” you were tempted to roll your eyes, picking your son up to sit him down on one of the many empty fruit boxes, perfect to be used as a chair. Maria just stared at you funnily.

“Do you want something Ben’? Mommy can make you anything you want.” you smiled at him, and somehow, in some way this just felt right. And for a moment you fantasised that this nice kitchen was yours—that this home was only yours and Bennett's. That you were free.

And then Maria’s obnoxiously loud stomping snapped you out of it again and you threw her a dirty look as she left the kitchen to do god-knows-what.

Only unbeknownst to you, not only the black-haired little snake and a few other maids, which were either adoring or annoyed caught you, but also the lord's heir—the one searching for you almost frantically, because you had not come when you usually would.

Where were you?

He was hurrying down the stars, frenzied, desperately searching for you—you were practically promised to him now; promised to stay by his side day-in-day out. You were just a servant for fuck’s sake—you didn't and shouldn't have autonomy to just anything. Could a dog walk without its owner? No. So where the fuck where you—

That's when he caught sight of you in the kitchen, with a little demon by your side, making you smile and yap so sweetly that it could rot teeth.

Straining his memory to figure out what that leech was that made you beam in a way that you never had at him before in the entire year you had been working here—his anger only heightened the moment he finally remembered.

”Oh, my little Ben absolutely loves..”

That's your kid.

Your child; this little ant.

How dare he, an insufferable brat, who probably still shits himself from time to time, dare consume your attention so entirely that you would neglect your duties and dote on something so tiny and powerless compared to him.

Why was it him, this fool, this insufferable little devil that took you—why couldn’t your eyes soften as much as when they laid on him. It was unfair, criminal. He was the heir to the entire land his father had inherited from his grandpa and to think with all the influence he held you would still go and pick a toddler over him was maddening. To think that you another insect scurrying around together with all the others could dare to be picky.

No, he was lying. You weren’t just another insect, you were his mom-to-be.

“Mother.” he spat under his breath, knuckles white from how tightly he clutched the pearls of his actual deceased mother's in his hand—he had specifically fished them out of her jewellery box that sat abandoned in one of the many rooms of the manor to gift you them but now here he was watching you betraying him.

“I have lost a mother once.” he was slowly ripping the poor necklace apart—the band holding on for dear life.

“I won’t lose one twice.” the pearls all spilled to the ground like blood.

So he laid a curse on you; one so cruel that you wouldn't have any other choice but to accept your rightful position as his dog.

Just you wait and see.

---♡---

Life sometimes developed in strange ways, did it not? Because you never would've imagined to sit with Jonathan under a cherry blossom tree.

The summer was fading and cold, cruel days were arriving, but somehow everything felt much better this way. It felt right. This fragile understanding of affection—you were glad the colder days would put some distance between the two of you, force you to part, because after the young man had confessed to you, you couldn't help but feel the flattery get to your head—allowing yourself to wish and long for something unattainable.

“I—” awkwardly clearing his throat he looked over at you, “I want you, m’lady.” scratching the back of his neck, he looked down.

“I am big and strong. My position is stable—my salary isn't half bad. I am quite a catch.” he declared cockily, with his chest puffed out proudly, trying to feign arrogance, when you knew he was nothing but a puppy in love.

You couldn't help but chuckle, “Jonathan, you're sweet, but—” you protested half-heartedly, more amused than anything. Mostly because you both knew you were officially still married.

“No—no, lady! I am serious, as I am about my feelings for ya.” you found his drawl endearing and found your fave heating up the moment he leaned closer, the lines on his forehead deepening.

“Stop laughing m’lady!” you couldn't help but laugh more—it was comical how he kept on addressing you as if you were noble yourself, as if you were above him.

“Just tell me what to do, so you'll believe me.” you didn't say anything anymore, instead you just smiled bashfully as he kissed your knuckles before fleeing inside again.

But, it seems luck despised you because father like son, Charles was glaring down at the scene from his study, feeling his heart rip at the sight of another man vying for your hand, while another already had bound you in marriage.

It wasn't fair, why was everyone getting a piece of you, why were you giving everyone something to cherish but you let him starve?

He so desperately wanted you, he craved you, but unlike his son, he would never take anything forcibly, especially not you a delicate rose with blunt thorns. Rather he would wait for all the flies around you to die by themselves so that your soul could find its way back to his, where it rightfully belonged to.

---♡---

No.

You refused this reality.

This couldn't be happening.

Crying nor screaming changed what had occured; you had murdered your child with your own two hands. All because you couldn’t take him with you, make him stay close to you.

Still you had tried to lie to yourself. To believe and to fantasize that your baby somehow could be well without you. You had hoped that your husband—as horrid as he was—at least would never reach him; never get too close to your treasured pearl, but he did. He managed to tear everything down and he took Bennett with him; he dragged him back into the lion’s den only to let his own son rot like a beggar out on the streets.

You had hoped. You had prayed daily, trusting god. But trust alone just wasn’t enough.

It never was.

He had died because of you—because you were stupid, foolish and worse than your own mother. Your grandmother would’ve died a second time if she had witnessed you now—a vile excuse for a human; picking up the cold corpse of her child, of a toddler with chubby cheeks that now were icy to the touch.

Tears brimmed at your eyes and you wondered if they would wet your cheeks first or your heart would shatter first—frail like glass. Memories flushed back into your head. Willow had died in your hands too—sick and frail as a baby, but Bennett, he had been a lively child, sticking to you like glue no matter how lithe he was. He was alive—had been alive for god’s sake! And now—now his chest didn’t rise anymore.

He was gone.

And it was your fault.

Until you sighted the man who had driven you away from your babies—who had inevitably caused their deaths.

So who could blame you now? An eye for an eye—wasn’t this what priests preached; wasn’t this god’s holy words? So as any good mother would do, following nothing but instinct, you followed the path of the holy to succumb to sin.

You tackled him—it was easier than you thought it would be. He was still weary; having just awoken from a drunken slumber, peacefully snoring away while your baby had lost the battle to a fever, that would’ve needed care and attention to heal; but it could have subsided, he could have lived. The only reason he was dead was this monster under you, now starting to struggle—roaring at you to get off. But the knife was already secure in your hand.

You had found it in the kitchen; it was a big butcher’s knife, one that your mother’s mother and her mother had owned to slice through a chicken’s neck like butter.

“Hey—what are you doing? Get off me you madwoman!” he yelped and cried, nearly managing to throw you off and tumble forward before you could swing. Nearly.

But as you had been too late, he also was, and the blade sliced through his neck without any resistance, tearing almost through everything.

He was dead before he could blink.

Still, you dropped the blade on his throat a few times more—just for good measures really—until his head rolled off; empty as it was, spilling all it was worth on the ground.

For a moment all you did was pant and stare, now he was just a shell spilling crimson in gallons, his blood your tears.

You stared until you couldn't anymore, until bile rised in your throat and you scrambled to your feet gagging.

Stumbling over him, skirt drenched in red and the floor slippery you crashed back to your knees, clawing your way back to your child like a mole, trying to navigate through the blurring of your sight. Yet the moment you felt his cold hand you cradled him, clutching him like a lifeline—like if you pressed him close enough to your own heart, his would start beating too like a match sharing its flame with another.

Even if all you wanted was to embrace and mourn your little boy, there was something inside of you—a certain fire, a nagging in the back of your head that screamed at you to get up, to get moving, that not all hope was lost yet.

And so you were quick to scramble to your feet, disoriented like a lamb but staggering forward and out the door. The wind whipped at you—untangled your scarf from you. It was winter, the north wind bitter cold, yet he couldn’t affect you, nothing could and the snow that had risen to your ankles inevitably bloomed in red with each of your steps as you continued to push through, to drag your feet forward, agains the bellowing howls of the wind. Your hands were red too, everything was, but what made you cry out was the filthy colour staining your baby. How dare he. To dirty him even in death, monster.

You were going to safe your son from the paw’s of his father that extended even death, you would bring him to safety and that safety was the manor—the only place where you once had felt warmth blossom in your chest that had beheld a functioning heart.

The walk was long, it took an hour. A whole hour out in the cold, ice nipping at your skin, and snowflakes decorating your hair—but all that didn't matter, it couldn't matter if it meant a way to save him. The lord was a powerful man, he could summon a doctor knowledgeable enough to save Bennett—you were sure of it. He would save your baby.

Yet, by the time you arrived, having left terrified figures behind you, the guard at the gait immediately jumped forward.

“Fuck (Y/n)!” Jonathan spat in surprise, eyes round in terror.

“What happened to you? Are you hurt? Did someone attack you? What is it him?—” and he would've demanded more, already reaching out to touch your shoulder, if he hadn't seen little Bennett in your arms—pale as snow and frozen on the spot. Something was deeply disturbing about the picture of the little boy in your bloodied arms and the longer he stared the more his hand trembled.

“He—” he started but cut himself off with a look at your face. He was worried, terrified for you.

While he could do nothing but stare in shock —like all the villagers you met on your way had looked at you—you slipped into the garden, striding forward to the manor, only hearing panicking behind you accompanied with heavy stomping after you slipped through the front door; already inside. And nothing could stop you from bringing your son back to life.

Fear was a stranger now.

So you climbed up the stairs and burst into the baron’s study unprompted, with no use of the usual manners you portrayed.

“Please—” you were quiet, so quiet you feared he wouldn’t take notice of you.

But it wasn’t just the lord, Nicholas was also standing there consumed in a lively discussion until you entered and both of their heads whipped towards you, eyes immediately widening.

“He’s stopped breathing. I don't know why—he was just laying on the floor without moving. I have tried everything, but he just doesn’t want to wake up, please, I don’t know what to do anymore and—” you were a broken machine, only able to repeat yourself over and over again, in hopes they could read between the lines of your anguish; that they could decipher your pleading for a doctor, even if you were just a maid. And even if your life was worth nothing compared to them, Bennett’s life was something worth to you and you hoped that they could see that. That even if your child was a commoner as you, he was worth the world.

“What happened?” the lord was the first one to speak up. He stepped close enough to look at the boy in your arms.

“Why are you drenched in blood? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you? You look pale as a ghost. Where are you bleeding—” Nicholas questions rained down on you, yet you could do nothing but stare into his father's eyes, ignoring his fuzzing.

Slowly, the lord outstretched his arms.

“Come. I will help. Give him to me.” he urged, shutting Nicholas up.

You didn’t want to. This was Bennett, your little boy, a seed that had sprung from you and had grown under your wing and to hand him over to someone else, while the same blood pumped through our veins seemed odd; cruel even. But this was the lord, wasn’t he—he was kind, understanding and your only flimmer of hope. Only he could save your baby, your Ben.

So you let him take the one thing of value in your life; your child.

And that's when your world’s edges blurred and foreign arms wrapped around you.

“Mother—” yor sweet baby was talking to you. At least you heard his voice one last time.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe now mother.”

Only you didn't pass.

But your soul had.

“Bennett?” you were calling out for him until your throat was raw, but he never came.

“Mother, calm, I am here. It's alright mother. Your son is here.” Nicholas muttered again, chanting the string of words like a mantra, as if they would ring true when reached a certain number of repetition, as if you would magically start believing in them after a certain time.

“We’re here for you, love.” the lord muttered, calling himself Charles, telling you it was fine to mourn to cry and rage, but that you had a new family now. And that this new one would ensure your utmost happiness till the end of time. Everything was so bizarrely confusing—and all you wanted to do was scream.

Maria was ominously around you too; always in the shadows, serving you, whispering to you when she would hand you a glass of water and wipe your sweat-covered face, trying to awaken from yet another nightmare.

Yet no one mentioned Bennett. No one even spoke his name; it was like a taboo, almost like his mention would curse you all.

You prayed harder and stronger, yet no one ever heard you, or seemed to care. Nicholas' grip never loosened on you, he never stopped calling you mom and the baron not once failed to call you his beloved—and both expected you to wear it like a badge of honour when all you wanted was to be reunited with your child.

Finally you concluded that God had abandoned you long ago.

Just this time, please, don’t let me be reborn again.

[darkmodepls]

Does anyone remember those old AUs where Gil and Tarvek escape Castle Wulfenbach as kids?

well here's my take on it.

In the brief span of time between getting caught and being interrogated by the Baron, Gil and Tarvek manage to slip away and decide running away is better than being Punished (or in Vek's case,being sent home(which was worse))

They just so happen to crash land close to where Barry and Agatha are making camp and also just so happen to interrupt Barry's freak out over Agatha's Breakthrough. Barry doesn't have time to immediately make the locket, as he and Agatha need to get the heck out of dodge before Wulfenbach troops descend on their camp and he takes the boys with him because he can't in good conscience leave two young children alone in the Wastelands.

It's over a week before Barry completes the locket and, not only has Agatha's Breakthrough set the boys off resulting in a friendly blue lobster, but at least one of the boys has sussed out Barry's identity and informed the other children.

Barry quickly whips up two more lockets and has a long conversation with the kids about who the Other is and why Agatha needs to remain in hiding. It takes some convincing, but eventually, all three agree to keep the secrets. Tarvek goes so far as to agree to dye his hair and vows to hide what's happening from his family.

The children are past the point where lockets would fully suppress their Sparks, but the devices still keep it tampered down enough that they mostly remember not to enter the Maddness Place in public. (Mostly. Whichever of the trio who's not sparking typically knocks sense into the one(s) that are)

They travel together for a time as Tarvek tries to remember everything he can about the Knights of Jove and the Other's plans, but eventually Barry still decides that it's too dangerous for him to bring the kids along and leaves them with Adam and Lilith.

By the time Agatha is 15, the trio has transitioned to a romantic relationship. By the time she the boys are 18, they manage to convince Lilith to let them try studying in Paris under different aliases.

Several things happen in Paris.

1. Miriam (Agatha) befriends a lost warrior from Skifander who is so great full that Agatha remembers Barry's stories that she chooses to impart her warriors' wisdom. Their lesson schedule is often interrupted by her frequent (but friendly) clashes with...

2. The Bloodthirsty Bangladesh Dupree, who has inexplicably taken a liking to Gilbert. She just can't help but feel like she's seen him somewhere. (Maybe that portrait of a kid on the Baron's desk? Nah) One of the benefits of hanging around with Gil was definitely getting a rise out of...

3. Victorianya Stormsby, the country bumpkin, bastard of a bastard who is ever so grateful for the aid of her noble cousins. At least, that's what Tarvek wants them to think. Tarvek has stopped dying his hair and has tailor-made this persona to weasel their way back into the intelligence network of the Storm King Conspiracy. They've managed to convince his kin that she's nothing more than a harmless dupe, which has caused them to give him far too much leeway in his actions. He's even managed to inoculate her favorite cousin against slaver wasps! Finding out about his sister's death was devastating, though. She never thought that...

4. Aaronev Wilhelm Sturmvoraus has gone too far in Martellus's opinion. The desperate man had gone almost rabid when learning how their bastard cousin and her friend were both Sparks. But no one was willing to transport the two halfway across Europa after what happened to Anevka. Besides, Anya was pretty enough, and a blood test had proved she was noble enough that he wouldn't mind bedding her if Zola failed to get her act together. If Tarvek had any idea what Tweedle was thinking, it would make their skin crawl, but he wasn't the only person feeling disturbed...

5. The Maste of Paris couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something disturbed him about Colette's new friends. Gilbert appears to have dived headfirst into Paris's neighborhoods of ill-repute and has befriended not only Wulfenbach's trusted liutenant but an up and coming member of Albia's intelligence network. And while Victorianya might have the rest of her family fooled, Simon recognizes the keen gaze of her many times great grandfather in the girl's eyes. Miriam is probably the worst offender though, if that locket of hers wasn't enough to bring back troubled memories he could have sworn he heard her humming as she completed her assignments. He couldn't wait to see them go especially when their last hurrah was...

6. Getting married as a triad was both easier and harder than you may think. On one hand, the church did allow for marriages between two women and a single man, but it didn't allow for arrangements between two men and a single woman. Not to mention that they were all there under aliases, and some of them were lost heirs (all of them but shh not yet). It took some bribery, slight-of-hand, shenanigans, and several vows of secrecy, but the trio did manage to return home with a valid marriage license in addition to their diplomas. They even managed to get it in writing that the first child would be Agatha's heir and no one else.

It's probably for the best the trio only spent 2 years of study before returning to Beetlesburg. They had relished the opportunity for more 'social' experimentation, but they could only keep the acts up for so long. They did try to keep in touch with their new allies even as they were forced to ditch their aliases.

(Tarvek also came to the realization that they quite liked being a girl, but didn't want to be one all the time. Gil and Agatha swiftly got into the habit of asking her for his pronouns every morning)

They've only been back in Beetlesburg for 7 months when the Baron drops in for a surprise inspection. Agatha chose to return at home after her mugging, so Vek (currently fem presenting) takes her place as lab assistant.

This time the Search Engine interrupts the Baron as he interrogates Beetle, indirectly ending the professor's life and giving Vek the chance to flee.

They return home to find that Agatha has started sleep-sparking and Gil is having an extremely heated argument with Moloch Von Zinzer that is about to come to blows.

The Baron uses knockout gas on all four of them and decides to sort things out on Castle Wulfenbach.

Midway through the journey, he recognizes Gil and takes him back to his quarters instead of leaving him in the school. Once Gil wakes up, Klaus dumps that revelation onto him before immediately trying to speed run 14 years of emotionally repressed father-son bonding.

Meanwhile, Agatha and Vek are in a panic once they realize Gil isn't with them when they wake up. Tarvek isn't really feeling femine anymore, but doesn't want to be recognized by his old classmates so he keeps the skirt on and lets Agatha do most of the talking. Agatha, once again, convinces the students to help her before making their way out of Von Pinn's domain. The duo ran into the Jaeger Generals during this mess, as well as Dupree, who does know that Gil is the lost heir now, but is down for the chaos of helping them escape.

(Adam and Lilith still try to intervene and still get shredded, but this time Klaus will be the one to stitch them back together.)

The trio make it off the airship and manage to make contact with Zeetha who was in the area traveling with a circus before setting off to Mechanicsburg so that Agatha can claim her throne.

Meanwhile, Klaus has finally recognized Tarvek and fears that the dastardly Sturmvoraus Prince has duped his son and the Heterodyne that travels with them. Or worse,

Maybe said Heterodyne has too much of her mother in her

[clonerightsagenda]

I shockingly have not been spoiled for Arcane yet, but I don't trust that state of affairs to last. Luckily I'm fairly chill about spoilers, but let's get an episode knocked out before grocery shopping.

(Also Netflix sent me an email yesterday asking 'how did you like Arcane' and it's like believe it or not Netflix, I did not watch it all. I was in the car.)

S2E8

Oh hey the disk image is different!

Nice touch with og!Jinx being shown first as the reflection

Ekko got yeeted into the good end!independentZaun!everybodylives!AU M/F relationship TimeBomb AO3 universe and he is NOT giving it kudos

well I suppose killing Milo spared him from that facial hair

What happened to the Ekko in this universe that this Ekko replaced? Will he resurface if 'our' Ekko leaves?

Jayce on the other hand got bad end!everybody dies

Never mind, this is not the everybody lives universe. And Powder can't escape killing family members no matter what. Universal constant

Feels funny having that post about Pompeii bodies going around rn because the bad end remains are very reminiscent of that

Jayce getting a leg injury to mirror Viktor. Oh, then a brace and staff too

Of all the characters to literally claw their way out of the underground, Jayce makes the least sense symbolically

Is Powder going to figure out Ekko wants her help to build something that will allow him to abandon her?

Ekko has created his time travel device. It's call the Z Drive ingame, right?

Heimerdinger getting exploded in the background lol

Silco?? If the point of deviation in this universe is Vi dying on the mission (presumably getting hextech banned and providing a sob story that helped convince Piltover to give Zaun independence) at that point Silco was already a crime baron making magic drugs.

What changed? Did he feel he no longer needed all that since Zaun was independent? Or did the loss of the kid they both promised to protect shock him enough that he reached out to Vander? I guess I could press play and maybe find out.

France exists in this universe. Or at least French.

"Can we just pretend like it's the first time?" In between running frantic calculations about time travel and dimension hopping Ekko has another secret chalkboard running frantic calculations about whether this universe's version of him has been making out with Jinx or not. He has come down on Probably.

I assumed the central figure in destroyed Piltover would be Viktor, but no this appears to be Jayce's corpse. Is the hooded figure going to be Viktor?

Heimerdinger heroic sacrifice. I did not expect that and also I do not care

Oh good, AU!Ekko is still there!

[briamichellewrites]

58

George grew closer to Bria as he spent more time with her. She had a fascination for the past. Titanic was her latest obsession, both the film and the era in which it was made. Why did she want to know everything there was to know about the Edwardian period? The difference in time and curiosity. She had been fascinated by World War Two history for a long time. Despite the fact that she did not fully understand some of it, she most likely read every book she could find about it.

When they discussed weapons, she did not understand. Perhaps she was a well-known historian in a past life, travelling the world and excavating ancient sites like an archaeologist. He would have assumed she was in her forties, so he asked her age. She was a peculiar individual. That was her description of herself. Information simply flowed through her mind like music.

“You are unique. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

"I would rather be unique than ordinary. It does not sound like much fun to be ordinary. Before you asked me out, what did Brad tell you?”

"He warned me that I would regret losing you for the rest of my life, so I had better not do it."

"He did, of course."

"Are you offended?"

“He is protecting me, that is what it means. I have trouble expressing myself. I have experienced love in the past. I apologise. I couldn’t remember what I was trying to say.”

What would happen if she was born in the Edwardian era? She would likely marry a man of wealth who her father chose for her. As a woman, she had little rights. A man of wealth? She assured him she wasn’t a gold digger. He smiled and told her he already knew that. Maybe a man with a title like a baron or a duke. It depended on her family’s political position.

What about her in the present day? She didn’t want to get married. He asked her why. To her, she saw how easily two people could hurt each other. Her parents got divorced because her mother had an affair. They put her in the middle of their fighting. He told her he read that in her book. She also thought that being together forever didn’t mean they had to get married. How many relationships had she been in? One. Her career made it difficult to have any relationships.

Once the media found out, they were all over it. He knew what that was like.

“Bria, I like you. I’ve never met any woman like you.”

She smiled. “I like you, too.”

“Would your father have accepted me?”

“We might have had to run away together. Maybe Paris.”

“What about Italy?”

“Italy sounds wonderful.”

He laughed.

You asked me if I were an Edwardian woman, what I would do. I declared that I would wed a wealthy man that my parents had chosen for me. Now, though, I believe that I would either marry the man I want for myself or not get married at all. Perhaps an example of a crazy cat lady from the early twentieth century. I would take care of stray animals by adopting them. However, I do not believe I would look good in a corset. – Bria

Haha. I have never met a more fascinating woman than you. — George

She felt as though she had never left during her week in Los Angeles. She was introduced by Mike to Anna, his fiancé. They enjoyed joking and telling each other about him. Donna and Muto wanted to know about her life in New York. Compared to LA, it was different. It was much louder than she had anticipated. To drown out the noise, she planned to purchase sensory-friendly headphones. Jason inquired about her autism diagnosis. Was that what it was? Both yes and no. It was determined that she had Asperger's syndrome.

"I call it "Ass-burger's" in jest because that is how it sounds to me."

They chuckled.

“It’s a high functioning form of autism. It falls within the spectrum of autism.”

“We read about the disorder. You do have some of the symptoms, but we are not experts.” Donna stated, "We simply assumed they were a component of your ADHD."

"The two disorders are either misdiagnosed or co-occurring."

What was the status of her acting career? It wasn’t going anywhere. There was fierce competition on Broadway. More than Hollywood, actually. Whereas Broadway was about talent, Hollywood was about connections. People with similar talent to her came from all over the nation to audition. She decided to return to Los Angeles in order to escape the frustrating situation.

They could see how emotionally taxing and frustrating that could be. She had time to return to her music because she was only in her early twenties. Her fans would wait for her. Mike concurred. When she began her career, how old was she? asked Anna. She had been in the business for nearly ten years at the age of twelve. It had been a long time. Would she ever stop working? She did indeed intend to retire at forty. Rather, she intended to care for animals for the rest of her life.

She also joked about being the cool aunt who sent the children home hyped up on sugar. They chuckled. Now, she was in New York. In Central Park, she was having fun while wearing her new sensory-free headphones. They made her feel at ease and assisted in blocking out outside noise. Nearby, Mariska and Chris were filming scenes for their TV program.

Although she was aware of them, she let them do their job. She would be rude if she interrupted. Since it was a weekday afternoon, the park was peaceful. She chose to attend because the majority of people were at work. She wore a jacket over her flannel because the air was a little chilly. Over her shoulder, her long hair was braided. With her bag, she took a seat on a bench. A bottle of Diet Coke, a pencil, and her notebook were all inside.

Indeed, caffeine was detrimental to her ADHD and autism. She gave herself a single bottle every day. When Mariska was taking a break, she noticed her. Both of them waved at each other. Only a few feet separated them, so she approached her. Bria turned off her music and removed her headphones out of courtesy. They said hello to one another. What project was she engaged in?

She gave her an explanation of her concept. For now, she was merely writing down thoughts. Getting out of the house was a good idea that day. Mariska enquired as to whether she could see her ideas. She was given the notebook she was using after being seated next to her. She went over them.

"What inspired you to take this action?"

"It suddenly came to me. While I was visiting friends in Los Angeles, they enquired about my experiences with sensory overload. Having a place to hang out and feel like everyone else would be awesome, I thought. When I reach that stage, my friend Bradford will assist me with business-related matters.”

“Bradford? Do you mean Brad?”

"I have two friends named Brad back home. Brad Pitt and Brad Delson. Since Bradford is his real name, that is what I call him.”

Did he hold a degree in business? No, he graduated with a degree in communication studies. He was simply business minded. What did he do for a living? He was a part of the band Linkin Park. She was friends with all the guys in the group. When Chris arrived, they told him what they were doing.

“That sounds more fun than hunting down villains," he said.

It was getting a bit warm, so she removed her jacket. It was warmer than the real temperature because of the sun.

Mariska thought those were excellent suggestions. They eventually had to return to their work. She put the headphones back over her ears, said goodbye, and turned the music back on. Bon Jovi's song "You Give Love A Bad Name" was playing. She was prompted by Brad's text message in her pocket to check if she had left her sweatshirt in the bedroom.

I most likely did! I am glad you found it. I will get it the next time I am in Los Angeles; just put it with my belongings. If not, you can mail it to me. I am not concerned about it. – Bria

Haha. I will send it to you by mail. Do not be concerned about it. I simply wanted to inform you. — Brad

You’re awesome, dude! – Bria

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon

[areiton]

MORE FIC IDEAS!!!

Fic Ideas:

Alright, rehashing the Pacific Rim SteveTony AU idea. Tony designs Jaegers. His heart's too weak to drift, but he takes what Howard made and makes them BETTER. And he gets to know the pilots--including Steve, who pilots WinterShield with his best friend.

Then--Steve's killed while fighting. Tony and Bucky bond in their grief. Tony still builds, but Bucky won't fight anymore, says he can't (he could. He's compatible with Barton and Romanoff.) THEN, the BlackHawk gets torn to pieces in a fight. Baron and Romanoff survive, but it forces Tony (he's fixed his heart don't look too close as i handwave plot) & Bucky to drift and fight. And then things start to get better. They don't drive the mosnters back--but they hold their own. Bucky falls in love. Tony-- Tony grieves and throws himself into work.

And then, they hear word of a Jaeger in the north. And it's very familiar fighting style.

Fic Idea:

(This was ALMOST this year's holiday fic, because how do we not have this yet??): Tony & Steve grow up together and make a pack that when they're 35, if they're still not married, they'll marry each other. On May 29th, Steve shows up at Tony's door, on a whirlwind leave. It's been 4 years since they saw each other.

He's only able to stay two days, but it's long enough to run to vegas and get married, and it's CRAZY, right, Pepper might actually kill him this time, but it's the easiest thing Tony's ever done, saying yes when Steve grins at him.

Steve very deliberately doesn't seriously date after he turns 30. Tony hasn't had a relationship last longer than a weekend since he got dumped by his fiancée in college and they made this stupid pact.

Fic Idea:

Tony and his complicated relationship with the press. Five times Tony protects people from the media being around him causes, and one time Steve steps into the limelight for him.

Fic Idea:

Band AU

Going on tour this time is different. It's different because of that kiss on New Year's Eve, the one Steve gave him before he told Tony he loved him. Forced in close proximity, Tony spends most of the tour hiding in the beds of the other Ultimates.

Steve doesn't mind--he likes watching Tony with the other people who love him, and he knows what he wants and how he feels. More than that--he knows Tony. And Tony can't run from him forever.

I need y'all to know how fluffy and soft this will be, like, Steve and Tony are ABSOLUTELY in love, but also Tony is scared of fucking things up and the rest of the Ultimates love him so much, and everyone sleeps together a lot, but nothing hurts and everyone's happy.

Fic Idea:

Rhodey goes MIA a few months after Tony takes over SI. Steve is the army captain assigned to handle the very distraught pissed as hell Tony. Tony, who the papers paint as a reckless playboy, is viciously focused in getting back his best friend. Steve thinks its hot.

When they finally bring him home, Rhodey is both curious and cautious about the pretty army boy who is too interested in Tony. Steve just wants to take care of them and Tony is in way over his head with a recouping Rhodey. Misunderstandings and eventual schmoop ensuses.

Fic Idea:

Tony works nights. Steve works days. They agree to a flat share arrangement. They communicate strictly through notes left in the apartment. They've never met. Until they do.

Fic Idea:

Steve is an old werewolf, living packless in the woods. He doesnt mind being alone--it's safer that way. He's content to live out what's left of his life alone until he finds a catshifter in his woods, ripped up and left for dead.

Fic Idea:

Ok but what WOULD happen if SHIELD cloned Cap? Aside from the threesome with Tony, I mean.

Fic Idea:

Steve is pulled from the ice sometime shortly after Howard's death and quietly retires. Years later, Fury shows up at his door to beg for help. His godson is missing, abducted in Afghanistan. Steve takes a look at Tony's pic, the boy Fury & Peggy dote on, and agrees.

Fic Idea:

Steve is a comfortably lonely werewolf who finds a fledgling vampire in his woods in the middle of a rainstorm. It's the start of a relationship--sometimes friends, sometimes enemies--that lasts centuries, as Steve and Tony find each other over and over.

Current Fic Ideas:

Here's my current fic ideas--all of these are up for grabs to whoever wins my @marveltrumpshate auction. (Gonna do these in a few reblogs)

Fic Idea:

Steve and tony are outted by the press 6 months into a healthy happy relationship and it takes less than 2 months for them to fall apart due to the pressure and scrutiny. How they find their way back and manage leading the Avengers is a bit messier and takes longer.

Fic Idea:

Bucky has a one night stand before he goes to war. He goes missing in action and months later, Steve is sent his personal belongings. Including letters from an omega he's never heard of, named Tony, sending pictures of a pretty baby. Bucky's baby.

Steve finds Tony--if for no other reason, than to tell him about Bucky and to meet what amounts to his nephew. But he realizes how broke Tony is, alone and disowned and trying to finish school. Maybe Tony didnt mean much to Bucky--no one ever did--but he smells like home and safety, like everything Steve didn't know he wanted. And Peter fits, in his arms, a way nothing ever has. It's easy, to welcome them into his home, to help them. It's even easier to fall in love.

And then--Bucky comes home, and finds the pretty omega he barely remembers in his brother's clothes and home, and holding a baby.

Fic Idea:

Howard finds Steve in the early seventies. He marries Peggy but she's killed and he's left lost and angry and without any real purpose. Until Howard calls and asks for a favor. His son has been getting in trouble and could use a bodyguard.

Fic Idea:

After Endgame, Steve and Tony are together and life is good but there's the small matter of the cults that have sprung up worshiping them. Because Steve wielded the power of a god and Tony wielded the Gauntlet. And people are trying to process that so cults.

Fic Idea:

Today I'm thinking about that fic I started, in which Tony is an Omega in need of an Alpha chaperone at MIT and Rhodey takes the job. And then, when Howard & Maria die, Bonds with Tony so he can inherit SI and not be forced to Bond with Obie.

So for twenty odd years, it's very common knowledge that Tony Stark is Bonded to his college 'sweetheart' Rhodey, and then--Steve shows up and Tony falls head over heels for him and that's 100% mutual but TONY HAS AN ALPHA OH NOS!

And Tony can't figure out why Steve who is OBVIOUSLY into him won't make a move, even when he's in heat and throwing himself at Steve, until Steve explains, a little confused and a lot conflicted, that he's not gonna steal another Alpha's omega, and James deserves better.

And that's when Tony calls Rhodey from the other room and says, hey baby, do you mind if I break our Bond to get with Steve and he's like, FUCKING FINALLY, DUDE! And Steve finds out that it was only ever a platonic Bond because Rhodey would literally do anything for his bestie.

Fic Idea:

The PR agent responsible for Steve getting a Twitter is also responsible for every time he gets fighty online, which happens every time Tony is insulted. Tony is DELIGHTED he isn't PR's problem child anymore.

Fic Idea:

Tony watches WWII unfolding and knows that something is necessary to help win, so he sends a piece of himself to earth--the Tesseract. And when that's not enough, he falls, giving up his place with the stars, to help humanity.

And then he meets Steve, and uses his fading power--he's dying but he's not going to tell any of them that--to power Project Rebirth. I think probably too he's part of why Steve survives the ice, but I need to work on that.

Fic Idea:

Dragon rider SteveTony AU.

They're from different clans. But they're forced together because of blah blah reasons (oh maybe the dragons are mating?) And Tony loathes Steve who is a big damn hero his father won't shut up about. And maybe he's projecting a little--

He wasn't supposed to Bond with a dragon, he isn't supposed to even be here--but he's never going to live up to Cap's expectations, not the guy who rewrote the rules on dragon bonds and single handily turned the course of the war.

Steve meanwhile cant get a single word out because gosh Tony is pretty and smart and when he rides his dragon--🤯

Their dragons would Very Much Appreciate if the idiot humans would get their shit together.

Fic Idea:

Steve never had a soulmate. Never had a mark. But one night in late may, he wakes up to a burning on his arm and his name in almost illegible scrawl. Howard calls and tells him about the birth of his son the next day.

He goes to see the baby a week later and holds Tony and he can see it, his words too large on Tony's little chest, but he murmurs them anyway. It's terrifying and everything he wanted and Tony is a BABY so he puts the kid down and swears to himself to keep his distance.

But he has a half formed bond with Tony and he doesn't always stay away and then when Tony is two--he's brilliant but talks late--he says 'steeb' at a Christmas party. It's his first word and it completes the bond. Tony grows up with it. He never realizes that they're soulmates.

Because he was so tiny when they bonded and it's all he's ever known and Steve is convinced he can't be with Tony and Tony--wants nothing to do with the nameless faceless person responsible for his words, he just wants Steve.

Fic Idea:

Steve is a successful happy security contractor. He's kinda slutty but that's ok, he's not hurting anyone and he's always honest. And then one day he gets an email that he's pretty sure isnt for him but intrigues him anyway.

Tony is miserable. His company is on the verge of collapse, he hasn't talked to his best friends in years, and his husband is a distant asshole--and those are the good days. He emails a private investigator and somehow ends up contacting a security contractor instead.

isn't a working number, hell it doesn't even have enough numbers--they keep talking. And Steve maybe stops sleeping around because Tony, Tony is fascinating. Tony smiles more, even if sneaking around is dangerous.

And there are things that are…off. little bits of conversation that is just a little bit wrong. Not enough to concern them. Eventually they decide to meet, Tony's husband be damned. But when they go to the coffee shop they agree on--there's no one waiting.

And through the argument and hurt,they finally peace it together. They're in parallel universes.

More THOUGHTS: ok but when they realize this it spooks them both and they kinda retreat from each other. But. They both look, in their worlds. Tony find a Steve Rogers but he died as a little boy. He didn't have a best friend to protect and help him. Steve find Tony too.

He was killed by a buisness rival a few weeks after his father's death. Vanko is still in prison for it, but--Tony is still dead. It terrifies him, losing that Tony without ever knowing him, and it drives him back to his Tony, desperate to know he's safe.

It's heartbreaking because they're so close to each other, but they're universes apart, too, and Tony can't tolerate that. Won't. He's a genius, even if Ty's abuse broke him and made him small, and he's willing to try, if it means making his way to Steve.

[dameronology]

marvel masterlist

i do not give permission for these works to be posted on any other sites

steve rogers

⥤ the one where everyone finds out

you & steve had been pretty good at keeping your relationship hidden from the public eye - it takes one (minor, in his defense) mishap on his part to change that ⥤ the one where you bring home a dog

you want a dog. steve doesn't want a dog. so you get a dog.

⥤ walls

steve just wants to look after you - even if it means breaking down your insanely stubborn walls. ⥤ the one with his new girl

pretending to be over steve rogers is hard. all it takes is a few glasses of expensive wine and a conversation with his gorgeous new girlfriend before the walls begin to come down. ⥤ the one where you can’t sleep

steve rogers is a good cure for insomnia. ⥤ the one where you finally talk about it 

when a mission goes wrong, you end up in a cell with your ex-boyfriend. what a better way to pass the time than to discuss where things went wrong? ⥤ knowing me, knowing you

breaking up is never easy - but it’s the best thing you can do (yes, it’s based on the song by abba and no, i have no regrets)

⥤ delays on the a-train

you had a lot of beef with the MTA; slightly less so since the world’s most unreliable subway led you to the likes of steve rogers bucky barnes ⥤ the one where he’s not ready

you and bucky, during one particularly soft morning, have an honest conversation about your relationship ⥤ you have my number

bucky barnes’ memory is a little selective, thanks to all the brainwashing - but one thing he’ll never forget is his love for you, even if you’re a complete & utter pain in the ass. his ass. ⥤ it’s no use, i just do

‘if i just wanted someone to hold, then really anyone would do/i’d close my eyes and really try not to turn them into you, but it’s no use, i just love you’ - no use i just do, hayley williams (a.k.a the one where bucky needs a hug specifically from you) tony stark (no longer on character list) ⥤ the one where he does something dumb 

‘you think i’m the stupid one but you’re the one who married me, so who’s the real idiot here?’

thor odinson ⥤ the one with the failed mission

‘you think i’m the stupid one but you’re the one who married me, so who’s the real idiot here?’ natasha romanoff ⥤ questioning

natasha had always been able to appreciate women. once she meets you, it becomes clear why ⥤ aftermath

when the snap happened, everyone’s minds immediately went to the person they loved the most. natasha romanoff’s went to you ⥤ better now

just domestic bliss with natasha - also, you have a cat sam wilson ⥤ the art of self care

after a long week at work, sam wilson waits for you at home matt murdock ⥤ the defence rests

aka romeo & juliet, except you’re a hot young d.a intern & matt is a hot lawyer frank castle

⥤ lonely eyes

frank castle therapises you, basically (based on the song lonely eyes by the front bottoms)

⥤ trigger

frank castle lives to protect you. he doesn't take it very well when you do the same for him. matt murdock + frank castle love triangle, because clearly i have psychological issues ⥤ slipping through my fingers

frank castle has a lot of pride - maybe too much to admit just how in love with you he is ⥤ anyone but him

you and matt are different people. you and frank are similar people. how’s that working out for you? not well. ⥤ red & blue

domestic life with matt murdock was a new kind of bliss. that doesn’t mean you’d ever stop thinking about frank, though. zemo ⥤ the loyalty complexity + part two

you were once loyal to captain america, but it never worked out in your favour – after his actions regarding the sokovia accords sent you on the run, you found yourself in an unlikely pairing with a former enemy. when rogers requires both your assistance, he’s forced to face the truth: you’re no longer his. you’re no longer anyone’s, in fact, but baron zemo comes close. peter parker mcu peter parker ⥤  when we were young

you haven’t seen peter parker for years. a chance meeting on a roof-top reminds you of your younger days. amazing spiderman peter parker ⥤ scenes from a modern romance

everyone has stupid arguments, but it’s hard to stay mad at peter parker ⥤  a matter of time (series masterlist; completed)

peter parker has barely gotten over losing you and getting dragged into another universe where you’re still alive and kicking isn’t about to help the case. thanks to an ultimatum from stephen strange, peter has just a matter of days to make you realise who he is and what you had, or he faces losing you all over again. he better get to work. ⥤  come home 

peter parker can’t protect you from everything, no matter how hard he tries ⥤ what can you do?

a.k.a the one where peter has an existential crisis about turning 20 (based loosely on 30/90 from tick, tick, boom)

⥤ burnt out

when you're feeling a little burnt out, peter's there to remind you of what's important (the answer? pizza)

⥤ last request

you want to break up. peter doesn't.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭-𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 || helmut zemo, bucky barnes and sam wilson x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : your sugar daddy boyfriend is finally out of prison and he brought a few friends to show you off to.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : just over 4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : smut (foursome/group sex, oral m receiving, spitroast; sliiiight dubcon???), established zemo x reader, sugar daddy relationship, ‘sir’ kink, ‘daddy’ kink, pussy spanking, one regular spank, orgasm control, overstimulation, creampie, a bit of cockwarming, exhibitionism, possessiveness (kinda? but also not at all lmao it’s hard to explain), a bit of degradation but plenty of praise as well, subtle cuckolding but without the usual power dynamics there, shitty reconstructed “sokovian” (I wrote it in the latin alphabet but the cyrillic and translations are at the end), unexpected and unnecessary fluff, very subtle angst (basically all in a flashback anyways)

                  You were needlessly anxious as you waited for him to arrive.  It had been your own idea to wait in the jet, and yet you spent every other second glancing out the tiny window, desperate for a glance of the man you missed so dearly.

If someone had told you all those years ago, when this arrangement first began, how easily he would have you wrapped around his finger… you couldn’t have believed them.  It’s just about the money, you would’ve told them, but you would’ve been impossibly wrong.

For a lot of women in this sort of situation, it really was just about the money; likewise, for a lot of men in his situation, it was just about the sex.  But the two of you had something entirely unique, nearly indescribable in fact, that very few could ever understand.  In the beginning it became clear to you that he was more in need of a companion than a lover or girlfriend, specifically.  He was still grieving his wife, still devoted to her completely, but lonely right to his core… angry, even, at the prospect of a life without his family.  You were a shoulder to cry on, first and foremost.

You thought maybe he enjoyed spending money on you because it was his way to protect you, in a way he felt he had failed to protect his family before.

And it was you that fell for him first, for his passion and his kindness before his riches or looks.  Just when you feared that he’d only ever see you as a status symbol or dress-up doll, he returned your affections in spite of his guilt at first and the two of you were inseparable ever since.

Except, of course, when you were separated, and he was imprisoned, and you were left on your own again.  Not that spending his money wasn’t fun or anything, but his loneliness was more sympathetic with each night you spent in that massive bed by yourself, wanting just to feel the warmth of him beside you again.

So, it should be understandable why you were so on edge in anticipation of his arrival.  Your painted fingernails toyed with the hem of the dress you remembered he liked on you most— the silk one that barely covered your legs and was only held up by absurdly thin straps crossing at your back.

The night he bought it for you was clear in your mind like it was only yesterday; his voice in your ear telling you how he couldn’t resist taking such a thoughtful, intelligent woman like yourself and dressing you up like a mindless drolja… or ‘slut’ as it might be said in English.  Just remembering the way he said things like that sent a shiver down your spine as strong as really hearing it, your thighs clenching together on top of the plush leather seat.

Just as you thought you might go crazy waiting for him, you saw the car pull up— your Helmut at the wheel and his two associates in tow— and your heart soared.

Longer than all the years apart combined was the minute you spent waiting to descend the jet’s staircase, hoping to meet him on the taxiway at the exact right moment.  You made sure the jewelry around your wrists and neck was laying just right before finally making your appearance.

The way he looked up at you as you started to walk down towards him… it wasn’t so different from the way he’d looked at you through the glass for the past few years, really, but it felt different.  He certainly looked different to you, without the prisoner’s uniform and looking rather imposing with that massive coat instead.

You were careful to still walk slowly, since you were wearing stilettos and all, even when you wanted more than anything to run to him and jump into his arms.  Instead, you came face to face with him, loving that confident smirk which never seemed to leave his expression, and slipped your arms around his fur-adorned neck.

“Dobrodošla nazad, ljubavi,” you hummed, pressing your lips to his and almost letting out a squeal of surprise when he immediately slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you aggressively as his gloved hands gripped you at the waist.

He was rarely so bold, but then again he had been alone in prison for so long with only your words to try to satisfy him.  As much as you cherished being in his arms again, you also got the impression that this wasn’t just about making up for lost time— if that were true, he would’ve skipped the kiss entirely and taken you in the back of his car the moment he saw you.  No, this was a show of dominance, and not only for your benefit; that was clear when one of the men with him cleared his throat loudly and Helmut still didn’t stop.  

But that was very much like him: he was never finished with you until he was satisfied, and not a moment sooner.  His power over you was so effortless because you didn’t mind at all being his plaything… so much so that it was you leaning in for more when he pulled back, making him laugh softly.

“Did you miss me, lutka?” he purred, and you nodded as you bit your lip slightly.

“Always, Helmut,” you nodded, finally taking a moment to look away from him and at the visibly uncomfortable men at his side.  “I heard you freed him,” you said to the man you knew to be James Barnes, “thank you.”

“I’m still not over that,” the other— Sam, as you’d heard— added with a scoff.

“Come on, darling, let’s board the jet and we can talk there,” Helmut suggested, and you nodded as you turned to let them follow.

Of course, you couldn’t be totally sure, but you were pretty confident you could feel three pairs of eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs.  Honestly, with how short the dress was, there was a risk of your thong being exposed as well, exactly the sort of almost-subtle teasing your Baron loved the most.

Once inside, Helmut showed James and Sam to their seats, and took his own as he instantly pulled you into his lap.  You caught the other two men glancing to the empty fourth seat, knowing there was plenty of room for you two to stay apart, but could they really blame you after how long you’d been alone?

Throughout the takeoff, one of his strong hands rested comfortably on your crossed legs as the other held his glass of champagne, and Sam’s gaze was attached to the way his thumb gently stroked your thigh while James seemed to be doing his best to look literally anywhere else.

“I noticed you haven’t introduced us to your… friend…” Sam trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, yes,” Helmut chuckled as if he actually forgot, “this is the woman who has been managing my estate in my unfortunate absence.”

“You’re trying to tell us this is your accountant?” James grumbled.

“She’s also my lover,” Helmut relented.

“Obviously,” Sam replied, unamused.

“She’s beautiful, no?” Helmut prompted as he ran his fingertips higher up your thigh, only glancing at the other men as he focused mainly on nuzzling against your neck. 

“Yeah, the finest money can buy,” Sam quipped, earning a cold glare from you and your man.  

“Are you with me for my money, draga?” Helmut asked you quietly as he planted a gentle kiss to the spot right where your neck met your shoulder.  You smiled and shook your head, staring right at Sam’s nervous expression.

“No, sir,” you answered aloud, and the title clearly made both of the other men uncomfortable… if, perhaps, in different ways.

“Uncross your legs,” he demanded, though his tone was still soft, and you obeyed right away as he started to lightly move his touch between your thighs.

James began adjusting in his seat and never really stopped, tugging at his jeans in an obvious attempt to conceal the growing bulge between his legs, but you only laughed at his clear embarrassment.

“See how respectful she is?” he cooed his praise, addressing the other men but keeping his eyes on you.  “I know exactly the words to make her obey to my every whim… James, you and her share that quality.”

The man sneered as you suppressed a giggle, squirming in Helmut’s lap impatiently.

“She’s loyal, too, unendingly dedicated,” he continued.  “You know she visited me weekly in Munich, at the very least?  Always by my side… like any good pet.”

A whimper escaped your throat at that term, your gut burning with need as he balanced praise and degradation effortlessly.  You didn’t find it truly demeaning only because you loved being his plaything so much, and because you knew mutual respect was at the core of your relationship with him.  But, still, it was nice to feel small when he was there to keep you safe.

James watched with a small snarl and Helmut slipped his hand into your panties, and Sam licked his lips but shifted his stare to your face instead, just as your eyes started to roll back and your head fell weakly on Helmut’s shoulder.

“And such a precious little pussy as well,” he added darkly, giving you a spank between your legs to make you choke on a squeal.  “Sweet, delicate… much like a Turkish delight, but even more addictive.”

“Please, sir,” you whispered under your breath.

“You want more, don’t you?  Tako očajno…” he chuckled.  You nodded, already starting to soak through the lace and rock your hips.  “You want to be fucked, yes?”

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Be polite and take care of our guests first, draga,” he encouraged, kissing your neck one more time before releasing you from his embrace.

Although you were most interested in being with the man you loved, you were happy to obey whatever he wished— and, frankly, sinking to your knees on the jet’s carpeted floor to crawl towards James wasn’t exactly lacking in its own appeal.

James’ eyes narrowed as Sam’s widened, and you sat up between the spread, denim-clad thighs as you blinked up at him and licked your lips.

He tensed up slightly as your hands delicately slid up his legs, his Adam's apple bobbing with a dry swallow when you grabbed his belt buckle and began to open it.

“You… you don’t have to…” he mumbled, apparently too distracted to finish his sentence.

“Yes I do,” you denied.  “Because he told me to.”

Sam winced and looked away as you unzipped James’ fly and pulled his jeans and boxers down to expose his cock, already hard and leaking a bit from the tip.  You smiled proudly, but chose not to tease him for his eagerness and instead just get right to work; you gripped him at the base and gave a few kitten licks over his shaft, savoring the taste of his precum and looking up at his expression that was equal parts shocked and sultry.

You only spent a moment suckling on the head before skipping right ahead and deepthroating him all the way to base.

“Oh, fuck,” James choked, reaching up grab the seat behind his head as his back arched, making you want to smile though you thankfully kept it down.

“Well-trained, isn’t she?” Helmut interjected proudly.

“Y-yeah,” he answered, his other hand grabbing your shoulder tightly as you began to bob your head.

Occasionally, in your peripheral, you caught Sam looking, and it made you wiggle your hips with the desire to rub your throbbing clit against the floor.  

You got a chance to breathe whenever you pulled back to suck the head and stroke the rest with your hand, and in a few minutes you had already found all the little spots that made him moan the loudest, or made his legs quiver a bit by your sides.

“Stop,” Helmut instructed, and you were already starting to pull off when James hissed and grabbed your head to hold you down.

“N-no, please,” he blurted out.

“She’ll come back to you but Sam is looking rather lonely in the corner over there,” Helmut explained, and James hesitated but let you go.  You wiped your lips and started to move towards Sam, but he shook his head.

“I don’t roll like that, man,” Sam explained, “I don’t want her doing it just because you said so.”

“Darling, won’t you tell us how badly you want to service your new friends?” Helmut challenged, and you swallowed nervously because you were a bit embarrassed to say too much and potentially anger him.  But the sparkle in his eyes didn’t seem like he was leading you into a trap… even if the other two men were confident that was what it meant.  “You find them attractive, don’t you?”

“Um, yes, sir,” you answered hesitantly, “I… saw them, and I wanted to know what their cocks looked like.  And tasted like.”

Helmut smiled and leaned forward, giving you a spank of approval through your dress (which was riding up to show most of your butt anyways).

You looked at Sam expectantly.  “May I please suck your cock, Mr. Wilson?”

His eyes darkened and you knew you were on the right track.  “What happened to ‘sir’?” he asked coyly.

“I only call Helmut ‘sir,’” you explained, “but I could call you something else.”

His finger curled to encourage you to come closer and you crawled up to sit between his legs.

“Call me ‘daddy,’” he finally instructed, opening his belt and pants for you.

“Yes, daddy,” you nodded, keeping your mouth slack for him to push his cock into.  You hummed as the head slid over your tongue, looking up at him as he bit his lip and thrust back into your throat.

“Shit, that’s good,” he whispered, guiding your head at the speed he wanted.  “Who taught you how to suck cock so good, baby?”

Helmut raised his hand and James snorted.

Sam was a bit longer but he was still no challenge to swallow all the way down, and you heard him breathing through his teeth but let your eyes fall shut to focus on your work.

“Is this… how you treat all your guests?” Sam asked tensely between heavy breaths.

“Only those who are at the right place at the right time,” Helmut answered cryptically, but you happened to know this sort of occasion was incredibly rare.  Although it might seem counterintuitive to some, this was his way to re-stake his claim over you, and after so much time apart apparently he felt he had a lot to prove.  “Keep going, but don’t let him come,” another instruction echoed from behind you.  

You pulled back to stroke Sam’s length while you croaked: “yes, sir.”

Helmut had you go back and forth for a while, keeping both men on edge and occasionally allowing you to stroke one while you sucked the other, your own need growing so quickly as you dreamed to have something inside you, anything really.

Obviously, he knew exactly how much having a cock down your throat made you wet and desperate.  And he knew that such a taboo act of, in a certain sense, breaking fidelity with a man as he not only watched but commanded you to do it would get you right on the edge in no time.

He had gotten in your head so quickly after meeting you, memorized everything that made you tick, and not once had he forgotten.  

“I-I’m close,” James warned as you sucked his head, making you slide the tip of your tongue over his slit before you took a break to suck his swollen balls into your mouth.  “Fuck, can I come?”

“Not yet,” Helmut instructed sternly.

You felt him tug you back and into his lap suddenly, and he quickly yanked your dress down to expose your breasts to the men in front of you.

“Her tits are hard, no?” Helmut prompted them, and you watched them both nod as a warm hand reached around from behind you to tweak your hardened nipples.  “Yes, she really loves to get on her knees and choke on cock.  I’d let her do the same to me but I have greater plans for her…”

As if it weren’t obvious what those plans were, he pulled your skirt up to your waist as well, spreading your legs and pulling your flimsy panties aside.  

“Is she wet?” he asked the men and they nodded again.

“Drenched,” Sam chimed in.

Helmut gave another spank to your clit as you shuddered, then rubbing slowly as if to soothe the sting.  “I’ll teach you what happens when you get wet for another man, little girl,” Helmut growled against your ear, “not to mention two.  And they’re Americans, do you have no shame?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whispered.

“No, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he corrected.  “I love seeing you act like a whore all for me.”

You hadn’t even realized he’d taken his cock out of his trousers until you felt the thick tip of him prodding at your entrance.  It was already a lot just by itself, but then you had these strangers staring at you and for some reason it only turned you on more.

That ‘some’ reason of course being that you loved your Baron taking ownership over you for anyone to see.  Clearly, prison had given him much more creative ideas than just fucking on a balcony or against the glass of a window.  

“Are you ready for me?” he asked in a hushed voice against your skin which seemed to be burning hot all of a sudden.  

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

It took a lot not to cry out as he pulled you down and filled you in one deep stroke, your nails digging into the leather of the chair’s armrests at either side.  But more than the sting of pain it felt so perfect, so fundamentally right, and just after your gasp of shock was a sigh of relief.

He sighed along with you and let his forehead fall between your shoulder blades, clearly a bit overwhelmed at being inside you again for the first time in so long.  “Draga...” he breathed, “not that I ever doubted… but you must have been faithful to me; you’re so tight, I know no one has touched you since I left.”

“Only you, sir, nobody but you,” you agreed breathlessly, eyes falling shut.  

He kissed your back as he started to move your body on top of his, the hands at your waist tightening and tugging on the remaining fabric of your dress.  “Tako dobro,” he hissed, “you feel so good, darling, you can’t imagine how long I spent dreaming of being inside you again.”

A tear rolled down your cheek, and it would be impossible to say for sure what caused it— a little bit of everything, really.  

Opening your eyes and noticing the way they were staring at you, you leaned forward and took each of the other men’s hard cocks in your hands, stroking in time with the way you bounced your hips on top of Helmut’s.

The both of them had been on the edge for a bit too long, Sam already biting his lip as James thrust himself up into your palm.

“Fuck, please,” James moaned, “I need to come in your mouth.”

“Come closer then,” you breathed, watching him stand up and bring his cock right to your lips which you eagerly gagged on, any pretense long gone as you sloppily sucked and stroked while Helmut thrust up to slam into you.

“Ohh, fuck, that’s it— gonna come,” he grunted as he reached up to press his hand against the ceiling of the jet, and it all must have hit him rather unexpectedly since the moment his musky taste began to coat your tongue, you heard a clanging sound and realized he had pushed up so hard that he bent the steel interior, his other hand tightening into a fist in your hair.

You moaned happily as you swallowed every drop, still sucking even as James’ moans became loud and higher in pitch.

“Fuck, don’t stop, oh god,” he whined, cock throbbing even after he stopped filling your throat with come.  You reached between his legs and squeezed his balls a bit and you could tell his knees nearly buckled, causing him to finally pull back and tilt your chin up to stare down at you.  “You’re somethin’ else,” he panted, taking a moment to catch his breath before falling back and slumping into his chair.

You looked over at Sam and saw his hand was still lazily guiding yours to stroke over his cock although come already painted his abs and dripped down from his swollen head over your fingers.  “Can I clean up your mess, please, daddy?” you asked, voice a bit hoarse though you couldn’t be sure if that was from the deepthroating or just how hard Helmut was fucking you now.

Pulling your hand back, Sam’s eyes followed as you lapped the thick, hot come from your hand, moaning openly at the taste.  You sucked your fingers down into your throat, not leaving a drop behind.

He leaned back in his chair and began to catch his breath, both of them now staring at you with that exhausted, glazed-over expression.  They looked satisfied, and you considered it your reward for a job well done.

"A belly full of come and a pussy full of my cock, you must be feeling ecstatic," Helmut presumed.

"Yes, sir," you agreed quickly.

All at once he began to fuck you faster, harder, deeper which you hadn't even realized was an option.  He growled a string of the filthiest curses in your ear, in Sokovian so the other men wouldn’t understand, with one hand wrapped around your neck as the other pinched your clit almost too roughly.  Even in your native language you could barely understand it: how could you when he was so deep inside you?

“Will you come, draga?” he finally asked, voice rough with his own desperation.

“Not until you let me, sir,” you moaned, and he chuckled a bit.

“Good girl.”

But wow, the way he rubbed your clit was impossible to ignore, like he was trying to make your promise impossible to keep.  You tightened your jaw, moaning through your teeth now as you fought to keep your orgasm at bay.  

“Please sir, I need to come, please— so close, I’m so close,” you mewled.

“I won’t be much longer, either,” he warned.  "Too long without you has taken its toll, I need to finish."

“Inside me, sir, please,” you begged, “come inside me.”

You felt him nod against the back of your neck.  “Come for me,” he instructed simply, and as obedient as ever, you felt your walls pulsing as pleasure overtook you.  Not even meaning to, you threw your head back, and he had to hold you tightly to keep you from shaking too violently as the waves of sensation washed over you.

The heat of him spilling inside you warmed you from the inside out, making you smile happily through the fog of your high and intentionally tighten your walls around him.  He hissed and throbbed within you, his fingers digging into your hips now as he held you down against him.

He gave a few more lazy thrusts until finally slowing to a stop, both of you catching your breath eventually.

"My... accountant will be keeping my cock warm for the remainder of the flight," Helmut informed the other men, "I hope you don't mind?

"No, no, go ahead," James approved as his head fell back against his chair.

It was still quite a ways to your final destination so it wasn't much of a surprise that you ended up falling asleep in the Baron's arms, something you used to do every night that had been only a dream for years.  Perhaps this afternoon wasn't the reunion you expected, but it was somehow even more perfect than you could've ever wished for.

///

dobrodošla nazad, ljubavi = добродошла назад, љубави = “welcome home, love”

lutka = лутка = “doll”

draga = драга = “dear/beloved”

tako očajno = тако очајно = "so desperate"

tako dobro = тако добро = "so good"

[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

AU

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

[spilledkauffie]

SFW (Fluff) Alphabet · Zemo

List made by @caitlinpotter || Sorry I’ve been so absent this week; I promise I have content for the weekend!

*xFemale!Reader || NSFW Alphabet ❤︎

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Quite affectionate— he loves giving you affection, and it’s all across the board with him. It can be from soft sweet touches to actual affectionate actions done for you.

Full HC list on this soon! ✧

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?)

Literally the best— for starters he’s super loyal, because if you’re truly friends with him he’s not giving up on you easily. Your friendship wasn’t exactly easy to get to, mostly thanks to his profession, but once you’re in, you’re in. 

100% defensive of you— anyone tries to come at you in any negative way, he’s got a comeback to absolutely destroy them. Also, having someone of his reputation around can be beneficial for when you want to be left alone, as he seems to intimidate people a little bit.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

When you cuddle him— he loves it when you just come over without saying a word and cuddle up next to him, he doesn’t ask questions he just lets you get as close and be as cute as you want. Sometimes he has to chuckle at just how physically needy you are, like absolutely burying your face against his back, nuzzling softly, with your arms around him in an attempt to get his attention / also loves waking up to you cuddled right up against him.

When he cuddles you— he can just tell when you need it, so often times he reaches out for your hands with a “come on, come here,” naturally, you give in, he pulls you into a hug, slightly rocking you back and forth. It’s a lot of soft touches and feathery kisses.

↳ if you’re lying on your stomach, he’ll lie down with you. Resting his head on the small of your back, brushing his fingers across or down your back, sometimes he places soft kisses against your skin, which always gets your attention. You either: 1). turn on to your side, he hooks and arm between you legs and uses your thigh as a pillow. 2). you lay on your back, letting him rest against your stomach, gradually he makes his way up to give the corner of your lips a kiss.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they around the house?)

For sure— it’s not long before you’re practically living with him. Now that you’re in his life, he wants you around for everyday life; what is his very soon becomes yours. You picked up on it when he started to suggest “why don’t you stay here... tonight? And maybe tomorrow?” more often.

Around the house— he’s quite casual. You never feel expected to get up at a certain hour (regardless that he gets up early), you’re never expected to be downstairs and dressed immediately, it’s more of a calm atmosphere that lets you wake up. You don’t constantly have to be around each other, he knows space is important. Sometimes it’s just doing your own things in the same room in silence together. Despite the status of Baron, he behaves like your average individual around the house, he likes to do things himself.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It’s actually really hard for him— it’d have to be in person though, as hard as it would be. For starters it would take a lot for him to actually call it over, he’s extremely patient and an expert at working things out with you, because he truly doesn’t want to it end.

↳ a most likely situation for ending it would be that he can’t guarantee your safety due to whatever he’s getting himself into, and he’d rather make the call to let you go than to have no choice in truly losing you because of his own dangerous choices. 

He’d leave it open though— sitting across from him, you stay quiet after both coming to the conclusion that it’s over. However, he leaves you with: “if you ever need anything, in any way. . .” you nod, a few tears falling as you stay silent, staring forward. Coming over to you, he softly wipes a tear away, kissing your temple, whispering, “I’m sorry,” before walking away.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’s definitely committed in the relationship— ring or no ring, if you’re in a relationship with him he’s all in, not the type of person to just have a fling here and there. It’s total dedication to you, and you only. 

Considering he’s done it once before—there’s a lot of past memories surrounding the topic of marriage for him, which is why there’s probably going to be a good amount of time together before any proposal. He just wants to be sure, plus there needs to be time to talk everything out before rushing into anything. 

↳ when the time does come though, it’s a mad romantic, but personal proposal, with the most gorgeous ring in the world.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically— he’s super soft with you. He never wants to startle you, it’s always what you’re comfortable with. Touches are more than just flirtatious with him, they can be comforting, encouraging, supporting, etc. (He also knows what you’re not comfortable with as well so he can avoid it)

Emotionally— it’s a little more complicated. With your emotions he’s super gentle and understanding, always. He listens to anything and everything you say or just need to vent. He doesn’t interrupt and only gives his thoughts when you ask for them. He never intends to hurt you feeling either, he’s very careful. However, with his own emotions however, he’s a little harsher. He doesn’t really like to show any of the more complicated emotions. And doesn’t always give himself much grace for feeling certain ways, he tends to repress.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? What are their hugs like?)

Only from you— he doesn’t really like other people getting friendly, unless he really really knows them, even then it’s different. He doesn’t get physical with other people unless it’s a “move— you’re in my way,” situation, but that doesn’t count as friendly.

Extremely handsy— he love to bring his arms around you, so he can completely hold you whilst hugging you. Whether it’s around your waist, shoulders, hips, etc., just depends how the hug is done. He also tends to stroke his hands when hugging you, up and down your arms, back, sides, thighs, wherever.

↳ he likes to nuzzle against your neck, during front or back hugs, with the bridge of his nose, or his lips. He also gives tender kisses while he has you so close. Not kisses with other intentions, just sweet loving kisses that make you smile. Sometimes he brings his hand under your jaw, to tilt your head just enough so he can kiss your lips.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes time, but it’s not forever— when he knows he will tell you with no hesitation. He doesn’t debate telling you or worry about it being too bold, nope, he means it when he says it and he says it when he means it.

He also says it in different ways— it’s not always “those three words,” through his gestures and other phrases you hear I love you a lot.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Not if it’s someone you’ve known before him— he’s not intimidated by pervious friendships that predate your relationship. 

When people flirt with you knowing he’s with you— he gets real jealous, real fast. Given that fancy occasions are kind of a routine thing, you’re around a lot of other people who want to flirt with you, and often do pretty openly. It’s rare that Zemo ever leaves your side, which helps, but that doesn’t stop people from trying, which he hates. Typically he just tries to keep you physically near, so he can be there to prevent it.

↳ one time he left to get you a drink and an old rival of his found you. Trying to be polite you remained in conversation, feeling fine until he caressed your shoulder. Almost immediately Zemo was back at your side. Handing you your drink civilly, with a “here you are, Darling,” he then glared at the man standing across from you. Not so subtly, Zemo slipped his arm around you, literally pushing off the unwanted hand and replacing it with his own. You leaned into him more, attempting to make a point, as Zemo continued giving a half smile half glare.

He doesn’t do much about it in aftermath— he’ll calmly admit to you that he was jealous, but he also gets you with “I understand why people want to talk, flirt, and be with you,” he shrugs, “you’re beautiful, they’d have to be blind not to see that, but yes,” he tilts his head, “but. . . I have to admit, there’s part of me that wants that only to myself, of course.” It makes you smile how calm he tries to keep himself, despite the frustration. It’s usually you who actually does anything after these type of conversations though.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Lightly running fingers up your neck— when he’s kissing you, he traces his fingers slowly up the side of your neck, until he reaches your jaw, there he strokes his thumb across your jawline.

Holding your hand— sometimes when you’re flirting with him, you like to get as close as possible without touching, he knows the game and subtly slips his fingers between yours, then he goes in for the kiss. He can feel your smile and your hands hold his tighter as you give in.

Hand kisses— he gives these whenever, wherever, and however often he can. It’s a cute way of showing affection in a very classy way. He uses them as hello / goodbye greetings, although typically you require more than a kiss on the hand for saying goodbye.

Soft, but turns into more— it starts out as a super sweet gentle kiss, but slowly you can feel it deepen, to which you usually break the kiss with a smile, “Helmut,” you laugh, holding onto his arms around you, as he moves his mouth to your neck, “I don’t have time for this,” you try to stop giggling.

As for himself— he loves the taste of you lips, so every time you kiss him, he adores it. However, there is a sweet spot at the base of his neck, that when you kiss there makes him stop mid sentence.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Fantastic— he’s actually perfect with kids. Maybe it’s past experience that plays into it, but he’s so sweet with kids. When they accidentally run into him, he gives a “be careful, little one,” before stepping out of their way. Something you’ve noticed is that he talks to them like they’re little adults, which is adorable.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Staying in bed— one way or another one of you convinces the other to stay in bed. Sometimes it’s him asking you to stay just a little bit longer, when you can’t, he understands and watches you get dressed, asking what your day looks like. / Other times it’s you compelling him that it’d be more fun to stay and cuddle with you.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Relaxing— it’s a calm, safe, and warm environment when you can both just relax from the day in each other’s arms. Sometimes you’ll lean back against him and ask what he’s reading, when he says Machiavelli, you smile and get cozy, “perfect, that sends me right off,” you close your eyes as he begins to read aloud.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s not an open book— there’s a lot of history with him, some good, but also some bad. Even before the whole campaign to end Super Soldiers, he has a bit of a shady past, with his own military exploits. Some he’s made amends with, others he hasn’t.

Depends how much you already know— if you already know a good amount about him, 1). he’ll ask to even the playing field, so he can know you equally as well 2). he doesn’t mind you asking questions since you’re already aware of his general history.

Surface level stuff— interests, fascinations, favourite this-or-thats, he’s pretty open about though! He doesn’t mind sharing or talking about any of the casual topics about himself, it’s just the more personal stuff that takes time.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s extremely patient— The only way you would know is by a facial expression. His looks give him away more than his words or attitude does.  

↳ if you’re not getting along, he’s the first to apologise, and it’s not an “I’m sorry” end of conversation apology. It’s a well thought out apology, because you don’t argue about the little stuff, it’d have to be something big to get you at odds for a while.

Silently frustrated— even if he gets mad, he keeps his cool in circumstances. Never raises his voice, his tone just gets a little deeper.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers everything— seriously, he does not forget anything. You’re his number one priority, so of course he pays attention. Even if there’s something you just mention at random, he’ll remember it. Say you mention how you used to have/like/want something, there’s a good chance it’s showing up again.

He also asks— he’s genuinely curious about you and wants to know as much as he can about the person he’s in love with. So, he loves childhood stories, random details, and little quirks about you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The moment you said those three words— when you know everything about him, his past, his lifestyle, and you still decided to say I love you. And you still standing by it even though it meant waiting for him.

He also loves remembering the first time he saw you— he says he could never forget it, it was like a divine beauty just walked in.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

Veryyy— he’s extremely protective of you, but not overbearing, he’s good a being distantly or subtly protective. In other words in public / at events / new places he keeps an eye on you, even if it’s from a distance.

He will literally do anything— there’s no limit with how far he’d go to protect you from anything or anyone, even if he knows he’s outmatched, he’ll find a way.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Dates— he puts a lot of effort into them, mainly trying to make it a perfect yet comfortable setting. So if you like quiet restaurants, that’s what he’ll find. If you like outdoors, he’ll find a stunning walkthrough garden, etc.

Celebrations— it’s always extravagant and grand and beautiful whenever you’re celebrating anything with him. He wants you to feel like the royalty he believes you are.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

How easy criminal life is for him lol— you love the fact that he surprised you with a real classic art piece for your birthday, but the exact details on how he got it isn’t as pretty. You frequently ask if there’s any other way he could make a living.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s not vain— despite the fancy and classy lifestyle, he’s never thought himself as an individual of great beauty. He likes beautiful things, which is why he says he was so attracted to you, but personally he doesn’t think much of himself.

He cares though— it’s not like he doesn’t care whatsoever, which is why he’ll usually ask you “what do you think of this?” in regards to fashion. He wants to look nice for you, and he knows how to do that. But he’s not the guy to check himself in the mirror, or constantly fret about his looks.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He doesn’t need a relationship— but that’s what makes your so special. Since he’s not the type to just constantly need someone to feel complete, the fact that he does need you make you and your relationship all the more important to him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He can crash literally anywhere— you’ve found him on the couch, on the floor, in a chair, and you have no idea why it’s a habit of his, but it is! And you have definitely addressed him about it before.

↳ walking in to his study, you found him asleep on the floor between the couch and coffee table, shaking your head and crouching down, you woke him up. Looking up to you, you asked, “Helmut, why are you sleeping on the floor?” / “Hmm- wh- I’m not on the floor, you’re on the floor,” he states sitting up, brining you into a hug with him.

[velunaryn]

Red String of Fates, Cover Reveal!

Red String of Fates (RSoF),

the demo of the new upcoming interactive fiction game.

Genre: (Fantasy, Romance, Adventure)

Cover reveal!

SUMMARY :

Play in a world where humans keep blind eyes just like the other creatures didn’t exist. Keep your promise to your childhood friends. Get your own power which determines your tier in society.

Is the world just like the one you knew so far? Or is everything just a lie?

However, when the world demands you to choose, which side will you choose?

FEATURE :

Play as a Male or Female. Customize your MC

Choose a side, Being a royal or a rebel.

Build relationships with unique casts of characters

Warning, The scene may contain blood or any other trigger.

Let’s meet the Characters so far:

Oswald [M, Human]: A Sage who runs away with a baby. He had a chain tattoo on his right hand and a bracelet with an alignment of colorful stones rune stone on his left wrist.

Allen / Ellene [M/F, Human]: MC step-brother / step-sister. The relationship with MC is close as ever like a real family. Have a big ambition to become Royal Guardian.

Helena [F, Human]: MC stepmother. A baron wife, have a bakery as a business even before getting the title. She insists on working there even when she gets the title.

The Royal Guardian of Yir Laccramatea!

Ivorry [F, Human]: A Royal Guardian Elite second in command of the second division. A girl who enjoys everything in life. She is an impulse person who makes everyone question her motives. Despite her personality, she is a dependable figure for the second division who always being abandon by their leader.

Leon [M, Human?]: A Royal Guardian Elite Leader of the third division. His group consists six-member team. He is a strict and stoic person. Had a cool personality but his team will argue the opposite. His aloofness always makes others think of him as a rough person.

Nyx [F, Human?]: A Royal Guardian Elite Third division. She is the second in command of the third division. A seducer of the team, and have a curvy body to support everyone’s claim. She looks attentive, but even Caerulus won’t steal anything from her. Have two kinds of whips as a weapon. She and Ivorry exchange some common respect as they both have a similar personality. The only make it difference between them is Ivorry will show her dislike, while Nyx will always put on a smile.

Caerulus [M, Human?]: A Royal Guardian Elite Third Division. He held a spear as a weapon. Kleptomania, he always tries to steal shiny things, and sometimes more. He always acts whatever he likes.

______________________

Some more Character Detail and spoiler are available on my patreon, check it out here. I’ll also complete all the character info when every one of them already shows up.

You can find the game detail here

To try the Demo, you can find it here

Have any questions regarding the story? asked away here

This is the Patreon plan for the future,

How is it? Do you like the new cover? I hope you like it! See you guys later~

[cazzyvintage]

Dancing the night away

Synopsis: You accomply Zemo to a ball yet you feel like you don’t truly belong there and you still compare yourself to Zemo’s ex wife but Zemo comforts you and assures you he loves you

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, all the fluff, plus very spicy end scene not 18+ but hella close

Word count: 2k

Authors note: As I promised a fluff one shot after the last one. We all need more loving Zemo in our lives. Also I just wanted to say that I love and appreciate every single one of you who likes and comments on my one shots. I used to write fanfiction on sites like Quotev and Wattpad and they never really got any attention which was quite down heartening to someone who wants to carry on writing for their career so all the love you have been showing to my Zemo one shots mean the world to me. Thank you all so much.

Once again Zemo had outdone himself. Buying you the most expensive dress in the shop, lavishing you with jewelry and make-up. Looking into the mirror even you could admit how stunning you appeared. You were wearing a tight-fitting emerald green dress that flurried out at the bottom in a swirl. The front of it cut down into a low v shape showing off the sides of your breasts.

You looked like how every little girl had always wanted to look like yet you couldn’t help but wonder...was this you?

You had never imagined you would be someone who would have a lot of money or meet someone who owned money. Let alone a Baron. It had happened so suddenly and you were swept up in a daze. It felt unreal, like every time you fall asleep you expect to wake back up in your old bed in your apartment. The truth was, deep down you felt like you didn’t deserve this.

You jumped as you felt hands wrap around your waist. Resting upon your stomach and pulling you in towards their chest.

“You look like the goddess Venus” Zemo whispers as he leans his head on your neck drinking in the scent of your perfume.

“If I hadn’t already promised the president I’d be there I would say screw this dance and take you right here”

“Zemo!” you gasp, your face instantly truing bright red at such a bold remark. You two had never gone that far in your relationship yet. You needed time to be ready before you ever went that far. Zemo respected that choice though he loved to tease you like that.

He chuckles, kissing your neck briefly then pulling back to admire himself in the mirror. “We will be the best looking couple there darling”

“You think so?”

Though his mouth was still turned into a smile he turned to you serious, “I know so y/n”

You break out into a big smile making Zemo smile flashing his teeth as well. He pulls you into a soft kiss, his hands gently holding onto you.

Following Zemo, he leads you to his car and a little while later you arrive at the ball. It felt like there were thousands of people there and they were all staring at you.

Zemo loved the attention. He politely smiled at everyone and greeted his friends there, introducing you to them.

You tried to make polite conversation but you had always been rather awkward. You didn’t know what you could say to people like them but Zemo made up for it by talking for you.

It felt like hours of you walking arm in arm with Zemo till he finally led you to the dance floor.

One hand on your waist and one holding yours, you two started to waltz to the music. Zemo started intently at you. His eyes sparkling in joy just to be in your presence while your face seemed to be in a permanent state of blushing.

“Have I told you just how much I adore your blush?” Zemo asks

You slightly chuckle still looking away, “Everyday” you breathed

“And I will continue telling you every day till you believe it”

“...Zemo”

“Darling, look at me” he whispers

Slowly you manage to drag your eyes off the floor and up into his warm chocolate ones. His grip on your hand tightens as he smiles warmly at you. “Words can not describe how stunning you are y/n. Poets would weep with joy just to be in your presence, even the stars would blow down to your light”

“I love you so much Zemo” you whisper

“I love you too”

You two continue to dance for the rest of the song till the music stops. You excuse yourself to step outside for a few moments.

Though Zemo loved to tell you how much he loved you, there was always a part of you that seemed to always doubt him. You were someone so common compared to him. Compared to his ex. He hardly spoke about her. You knew they were married with a child but they were both killed and it hurt him deeply. One day you snuck into his office and found a picture of her. She was so beautiful, so different to you.

“I hate seeing you looking so down darling” you hear Zemo say as he follows you outside. He stands behind you wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder.

“I’m fine” you try to reply but Zemo shakes his head, “I know you y/n, I know you are upset by something. I want to help you with whatever is lying heavily on your soul but I can’t unless you tell me”

You don’t say anything for a moment, you just breathe in and out trying to calm your nerves. Zemo pulls back from you. He turns you around and picks up your hands in his. He brings them up and kisses them gently.

Finally, you gather up the courage to just let it all go, to just say everything that had been bothering you.

“I don’t feel like I fit in here Zemo! Before I met you I was just an average person. Someone everyone here would look down on. Part of me still finds it hard to believe you even like me. Why would someone like you, a Baron, who could have any supermodel settle for someone like me. It doesn’t make sense. I feel so outcast here and I can’t help but think about your ex-wife. She was so beautiful, I saw that picture in your office of her. I know she is prettier than me and I just can’t understand why you would choose me after being with someone like her. I just don’t understand why you choose me Zemo!” you cried, letting the tears freshly leave your eyes.

Zemo looked shocked as you spoke but his facial expression soon turned to one of sadness. He raised his hands to your face, placing it on your side, and with his thumb, he brushed the tears away.

“Oh, y/n…” he whimpered as he struggled for a moment to find the right words.

With his other arm, he wraps it around your side and pulls you close to him till you could feel his breath on yours. His eyes stare intently into yours as he speaks,

“When I saw you in that restaurant a year ago, I was awestruck. My life had turned to shit. I’d lost everything and it felt like I was drowning in the waves of pain but when I saw you it was like the angels had blessed me. What drew me to you most though was your eyes. In the sun they shone, darling, tantalizing, drawing me in deep and under. I just had to talk to you. Other women may be pretty. Perhaps. But you darling. You look like the gods came down and painted you with the best colours in existence. Everything I say to you I mean and I want you to believe it. I would do anything just so you could see yourself the way I see you. I understand how you feel about my wife. It was my fault, not talking about her to you but the way I love you isn’t the same way I loved her. I always felt like I was forced to be in love with her like it was the right thing to do. Everyone told me I would be an idiot not to pursue her so I did. Yes, I liked her but I never felt connected to her. But you darling, I would throw everything away for you. I don’t care what anyone else says because I love you. I treasure you. Just looking at you makes my heart race still and my body feel warm. I want to hold you, touch you, taste you but at the same time, I’m scared I would taint you. That you were too beautiful, too innocent for the likes of me.” Zemo declares, never taking eyes off you.

Through his words you feel yourself melting. A warmness takes over you as your heart too nervously flutters. You place your hand over his chest and you can feel his heart quickly beating, almost in time to yours. He looks at you, his eyes wide, lips slightly parted as he desperately waits for your words.

“You mean the world to me Zemo, I’ve never loved someone as much as I love you and never will. I could never come close to your way with words but...thank you. For saying that. It...it means so much to me to hear that. I’m still going to occasionally have doubts. I’m afraid that’s the way I am and I don’t think that will ever change but I’m not leaving you Zemo. Never”

Zemo wraps his arms around you bringing you into a hug as you rest on his chest, encompassed in his warmth. “I will be there every moment of every day to help you through your doubts”

Eventually, you pull back to look at him, at his lips. You were so drawn to him at that moment. You two were so close it was intoxicating. Pushing forward, you closed your eyes to kiss him. Zemo’s eyes fluttered shut as well and he raised his hands to wrap in your hair. They got tangled in them and he slightly tugged making you moan.

You both freeze as your blush comes back but you pushed past your embarrassment, kissing Zemo harder. Your core started to warm and this time you weren’t going to run away from your desire. You part your lips slightly and Zemo takes that invitation to explore your mouth with his tongue. You push into his further, wanting to feel his body against yours. This caused him to take a few steps back till he hit a wall. You moved your body slightly up and down his as you two kissed. He pulled back, out of breath as he gazed in wonder at you.

“Am I okay to go further?”

“Yes” you gasp, “Zemo I…” you knew it now, you knew you were ready, “Zemo I want you”

His teeth flash as he smiled at you before he lowered his face to your neck, sucking on a section. His hands also lowered down your back till they grabbed your ass. It elicits more moans out of you as his teeth graze your skin. His mouth wanders all over you like he was attempting to kiss every inch of you. As he moved his head lower you tangled your hands in his soft hair, tugging it slightly which made him groan.

When he reaches your chest area he grabs the back of your legs lifting you. You wrap both your arms and legs around him as he walks you over to a table and lays you down on it. You continue to hold onto him so that his body was between your tights and his chest was pressed against yours.

While everyone danced inside you and Zemo lost yourself to the pleasure outside.

[hamatoclan76]

Rise Splinter isn´t a very good parent and that´s okay.

Look, before someone starts throwing tomatoes i want to clarify something: I like Splinter from Rottmnt and i really like Rise of the Tmnt. People who have followed me for a while know i enjoy the series and i´m sad about it how was cancelled. I also want to say that i don´t think other Splinters are 100% perfect and they have their own issues too.

What i don´t like is how the Rise of the tmnt fandom often overlooks Rise Splinter´s character flaws and pretends that he is a perfect father figure because this is not something supported by both by the narrative and his character growth.

So, what i´m going to do in this post is to examine his character flaws, his role as parent and character arc in the series. The point of this is to bring up this flaws to light, this is not a ¨character critical¨ or whatever you want to call it. It´s supposed to be character analysis, okay?

Let´s start with the short Turtle Tots short:

Link to the short:

 https://www.facebook.com/teenagemutantninjaturtles/videos/626074331524980/

This short is when the turtle brothers are still very young. We see that Splinter is trying to train them but he keeps watching a show he likes on TV. This short shows Splinter didn´t care about training his sons enough even when they were younger. He also leaves them with very dangerous weapons they don´t know how to use.

Splinter was already quite neglectful and careless since the start. He spend too much time watching TV rather than training his sons. It would more understandable if he was too busy working with something but here he is only watching a TV series. Later in the short he admits he should have paid more attention to the turtles and isn´t a good Sensei.

I have to say i didn´t like this short too much. I didn´t find funny the jokes of how Splinter ignores his sons for the TV series and leaves every 30 seconds. However, it provides some context for the characters and their relationship.

Now let´s talk about his characterization at the start of the series. (Season 1)

Splinter at the start of the series is usually seen watching TV, whatever is his old movies or shows that he likes. He is rarely seen training the turtles or talking to them. Sometimes their interactions are the boys trying to ask him about something while he is watching his series. Splinter either answers them or ignores them.

He is usually so caught up in his own world that he doesn´t seem to be aware of who are the turtles fighting against until it starts biting them back. The boys usually don´t tell him about their adventures on the surface. One could argue that he assumes that they barely get in trouble and they are just playing.

In the episode ¨The Fast and the Furriest¨ Splinter ¨steals¨  Turtle Tank and takes it for a ride without Donatello´s permision. The turtles go through a lot of trouble to get the Turtle Tank back. By the end of the episode its Donatello, his son,is  the one who is putting a punishment on Splinter, who is supposed to be their father, for taking the Tank. 

While Donnie getting angry at Splinter is quite funny,this episode shows that Yoshi can be very inmature at times, if not childish. He doesn´t ask his son to allow him use the tank, puts them in danger and is scolded like a child at the end instead of him being the ¨responsible adult figure¨.

Parents being cocky or careless isn´t something very new. There are parents that act as inmature or worse than Yoshi and would never admit they did something wrong. So, i take this episode as one of the examples that Splinter does this kind of things. He isn´t this selfish and reckless all the time, just sometimes.

Another aspect is that Splinter struggles with remember his sons´ names. He calls them by their color bandana instead of their real names. This sometimes can be funny but on the long run it becomes quite disturing,Imo. There is difference between ¨calling your son with an affectionate nickname¨ and ¨not remembering your sons´ name¨. There is a point that this it becomes sad.

The tmnt wiki describes Rise Splinter´s personality as a ¨Extremely flawed (albeit loved) father figure¨. This means that he has tons of flaws but he cares about his family: One clear example is when he helps Raphael with fighting his fear in ¨Mrs. Cuddles¨. He protects the big turtle a few times from the giant puppet monster and they defeat the monster together.

Splinter cares about April O´Neil like she was part of the family too. In episodes like "Always Be Brownies" he is seen hanging out with her and helping her. He also encourages April to believe more in herself since she has tons of doubts in that episode. (Season 2).

Hamato Yoshi / Splinter´s backstory

Lets say that Yoshi didn´t have the best childhood. His biological father was missing and he is not mentioned in the flashbacks. Splinter´s mother, Atsuko, left Yoshi when he was still a kid so she would be able to perform her family duty as protector in the Hamato family.

This terrible loss made Yoshi grow bitter with his Hamato duties and martial arts. He didn´t want anything to do with his family legacy since it was the reason that his mother was forced to left him. He had an argument with his maternal grandfather and sensei, Sho, and decided to use the skills he learned in during his training to become a superstar.

After many shenanigans involving his crush on Big Mama, a very powerful yokai, and Baron Draxum, Hamato Yoshi mutated into a humanoid rat and adopted the turtles, who were about to be used as soldiers by Draxum, like their own sons.

Splinter´s backstory explains a lot of his behaviour in the series: It´s implied his father died/left him, his own mother also left him to perform her duties and he has a very strained relationship with his grandparent. The reason of why he has so many problems when it comes to being a good father it is because he himself lacked good family support. It makes sense that he doesn´t seem to know what he is doing or why he is messy when he is takeing care of the turtles.

Speaking of that, this explains why he isn´t very involved in his sons´ training. Maybe he just doesn´t want them to carry the same burden that he did as a child or just dislikes the idea of training them because it reminds him of bad memories about his grandfather and his mother.

He also watches his old movies since it reminds him of the time he was living his life at his fullest and was doing something he enjoyed. It implies he has his mind stuck in the past, perhaps wishing he could still be human and live like superstar.

Splinter´s Character growth

Like i mentioned, Yoshi wasn´t very interested in training his sons at the start of the series. He was negletful and spent too much time watching his movies... This aspect of his character isn´t ignored.

When the turtles asked him to train him ¨The Evil League of Mutants" he put Lou-Jitsu films for them to watch, this made their sons think he wasn´t taking them seriously and decided to go out on their own. While Splinter´s intention was to show them the basics by them learning the moves from the movies, he came off as he only cared about watching said films to their sons.

After noticing how his sons lack experience and need his help, he begans training them. Splinter gets more involved with his Hamato destiny and starts being more honest to the boys about his past as human and protector.

One episode that´s really worth of mentioning is ¨Turtle-dega Nights: The Ballad of Rat Man¨: Splinter tricks Donatello and Mikey into going to a demolition center since he missed the old days he used to be a champion in the Battle Nexus. Donnie is very hurt when he finds out about this because he really wanted to spend more time with his father. By seeing this Yoshi realizes how his sons would like to do things together with him like hanging out. He apologizes to Donnie and tellshim that he may have lied but it is truth he wanted to spend time with him.

Along with getting more involved in his sons´s lives by teaching them and spending time with them, he lets Mikey hang out with Draxum because Mikey considers him part of the family too. (Draxum created them). He didn´t trust Draxum due to their mutual past but decides to give him a chance for Mikey´s sake.

In conclusion: In Rise of the tmnt, Splinter starts as somewhat a neglectful parent figure, sometimes acting childish and not being the best role model for their sons. Overtime he begins to understand the consequences of not training his family and gets more involved in their lives. He tries to be a responsible father despite he had tons of issues with his own family growing up. While very flawed, he has good intentions and cares deeply about his sons.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Something Different

Fandom: Marvel (Sugar Daddy AU)

Pairing: Baron Helmut Zemo x FReader

Summary: Zemo has no problem gifting you with lavish gifts, but this gift is something different. It means something more.

The Baron and His Bunny Masterlist

It's been nearly a year since you'd been the Zemo's sugar baby. But for the last few months, things have changed. He no longer wanted you to sleep in your bedroom, wanting you to be the last thing he sees before he sleeps and the first thing he sees when he wakes up.

He's been much more affectionate, kissing you and holding your hand in public and in private, calling you "my dear" or "my liebe" You two are still very much sexually active with each other and it's hot and rough, but lately, he's been going slow and gentle. You don't want to ask if things have changed in your relationship, afraid that if you do, he'd revert back to how it was in the beginning. You don't want that, but...for your own peace of mind, you want to ask.

_________________

You're not in bed when Zemo wakes. He feels the spot where you preoccupied and it's still warm. So you just had recently gotten up. He feels a breeze and looks towards the balcony. He sees you standing at the railing and looking out into the morning sky.

Zemo smiles to himself and rolls out of bed, grabbing his robe and wrapping it around him. He joins you on the balcony, hugging you from behind, "You're up early, liebe," he whispers and kisses your cheek.

You turn in his arms to face him, your arms wrapping around his neck, "Just a lot on my mind."

"Should I be worried?" he asks, his brows furrowing with concern.

You don't answer for a second and then smile, "Of course not. I'm probably making a fuss over nothing," you unravel your arms and move to walk away, but Zemo tightens his grip, "Bunny, if something's wrong, I'd like to know so I could help you."

You sigh and run a hand over your face, "Can we go inside to talk?"

"Of course," he guides you inside where you both sit at the velvet bench at the end of his bed.

You let out a deep breath, "I've noticed you've been different that past few months of our...relationship. And I feel like I might be looking too deep into things, but-I don't know..." you trail off and Zemo tips your chin up with his finger, "It's okay, Bunny. Go on."

"Did things change? I mean, with you, specifically?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you see me as something more than just a sugar baby?"

Zemo proceeds to just stare at you, his look unwavering. He looks like he's trying to figure out what to say and in that time, you begin to spiral.

You look away from him and chuckle, "Nevermind. I told you, a fuss over nothing." you stand up and walk out of his bedroom, going to yours.

When you're gone, Zemo let out a shaky breath and runs his fingers through his hair. He...He needs some time to think.

_______________

You've been in your room for a majority of the day. You'd scroll through your phone, watch Netflix, whatever you could to keep your mind off the Baron. You had breakfast in your room, lunch in your room. You didn't want to see Zemo at all. Yes, the estate was big, but still. You never knew where you'd run into him.

It wasn't until around 4pm that there was a knock at the door. You don't answer it, but it's no surprise that it opens anyway, Zemo's head popping in.

"May I come in?"

You shrug, "It's your home. You can do whatever you want." You know you're being a bit difficult, but you can't help it. You're hurt.

He sighs and enters your room, closing the door, "May I talk to you?" You hesitantly nod and he approaches you, sitting himself at the edge of your bed, "I'd like to apologize for earlier. Your question caught me off guard. But past hours allowed me to think about you and about us. But first, I'd like to give you something."

He takes a small box out of his pocket and hands it to you. You slowly open it to reveal a gold necklace with a small rectangular pendant. On the pendant was a star with a small diamond in the middle. This was a stark contrast to all the luxurious items he's gotten you this past year.

"Liebe, I want to answer you question. I will say that, yes, things have changed between us. After nearly a year with you by my side, I've grown so fond of you. I've-I've fallen for you. Now, this isn't easy for me to say this. I never thought I'd fall in love again after losing my wife and son, but you did it. You made me fall in love again, with you, with life. I was in such a dark and lonely place when I met you and you brought so much light and wonder back to me. Like a star," he gestures to the necklace, "You're the star that brightens my darkest nights, Bunny. I'm sorry if my reluctance to answer your question earlier hurt you. I saw the hope and adoration you had for me in your eyes and when I didn't answer, it faded. I hated it."

"Helmut," you coo his name and cup his cheeks, bringing your lips to his.

He kisses you back softly, hands running over your hair. He then pulls away, but not before pecking your lips one more time, "I know the start of this was unconventional, but I'd love to be with you for however long you'll have me."

"You might regret those words, Baron," you say with a giggle.

And he smiles, "Never, Bunny."

[buckyodinson]

Manipulation

Helmut Zemo x F!Reader

Summary: Zemo thinks he’s manipulated you into some kind of a relationship with him, but you’ve been on to him since the beginning.

Word Count: 800~

Warnings: some spice, mentions of sexual activities, but nothing overtly smutty though

A/N: thanks anon for requesting! Hope you enjoy! :) 

“How about we try something different tonight?” You smirk as you stand in the doorway, dressed in a satin slip dress and dangling two pairs of handcuffs from your finger.

Zemo’s interest is immediately peaked, and he wordlessly puts his book down on the couch before stalking over to you, attaching his lips to yours in a fierce kiss. He hums into the kiss as you thread your fingers through his hair.

He starts walking you backwards into the bedroom, until the back of your knees touch the bed and you let yourself fall back to sit on the edge. You toss the cuffs behind you, onto the pillow and eagerly wait for him to strip, biting your bottom lip as more and more of his body is exposed.

He scrambles to remove his clothes before lunging at you, pushing you further up the bed and straddling you, pinning you down. He reaches for the cuffs on the pillow when you tut at him, quickly wrapping your legs around him and flipping the pair of you over.

“I think you misunderstood, sweetheart.” You grin and dip down to bite his lip, giving it a little tug as you pull away. He whines at the change in position, and there’s a dazed expression on his face, making you smirk.

You put the cuff around one wrist and attached it to one end of the headboard. You did the same with the other hand, running your hands down his bare chest to admire your handiwork.

“Your reaction to Walker cuffing you gave me some ideas.” You chuckled as Zemo melted under your touch, his body completely relaxed underneath you.

“Wanted to be in control for once, have you at my mercy. Can you be good for me, Baron?” You purred and he nodded impatiently, leaning up as far as he could to try and capture your lips.

“Good.” You closed the gap, kissing him for a brief minute before pulling back again. He leans up to chase your lips, but fails.

“I do have one more little surprise for you, though.” You crawl off the bed and creep out of the bedroom.

You’re gone for a few minutes and Zemo begins to get restless, his mind racing with ideas of what your surprise could be. This... thing with you began after Madripoor. It wasn’t exactly a relationship, more of a friends with benefits situation? He didn’t quite know what he was planning in the end, but knew that having you on his side was likely going to help. Or you could act as an extra barrier between him and getting sent back to prison. If you didn’t want to help him in the end, he could at least use you as leverage against Sam and Bucky. Plus, the sex was great, so he certainly wasn’t complaining about the situation.

He’s staring up at the ceiling as he shouts “Quit the teasing, my love. Or I’ll break out of these cuffs and come and find you myself.”

A voice that definitely doesn’t belong to you responds and Zemo whips his head to the door.

“I don’t think you’ll be out of those cuffs anytime soon, Zemo.” His eyes widen as Sam and Bucky walk in the door, flanked by you.

You speak matter-of-factly, “We’ve been on to you from the beginning, Helmut. Knew you were planning to use me for something, so I figured I’d use you first. Me and the boys came up with the plan after you first flirted with me at the club in Madripoor.” You smirked as he squirmed against the restraints.

“The handcuffs were my idea. The boys were gonna come while we were asleep, but I thought we might as well have some fun with it. This is much better, right?” You looked to either side of you and saw both boys with shit-eating grins on their faces as they looked on at Zemo.

Zemo’s face was bright red, and you did take a little pity on him, bending down to grab his shirt and placing it over his lap. It didn’t make too much of a difference though, the bulge still prominent. You grab the handcuff keys off of the bedside table, and run a finger down the side of his face, smirking.

“He’s all yours, boys.” You drop the keys to the cuffs in each of their hands and walk to the kitchen to make yourself a drink.

After a couple minutes, the three of them emerge from the bedroom. Zemo has got his hands cuffed in front of him, and he’s dressed haphazardly in the shirt and joggers he’d been wearing previously. Sam and Bucky have a hold on each of his arms as they walk him out.

You raise your glass and wink at him as they take him away. He just glares at you in response.

~

Zemo taglist (please comment/message/ask if you want to be added/removed):

@noavengers @let-me-read-fanfiction-in-peace @zemodaddy @lulu-yuming @ichigomiluku @multiyfandomgirl40 @gwenebear @aisling1985 @booklover2929 @myeternalsin @moongirl1313 @angiekurosaki @lieutenantn @hibiscusgardenia @plantpottt @whatiswrongwithpeople @writeroutoftime @maldita-insonia @fandomxreaders @loudbluepancake @montypythonsholysnail @bel-13 @ayuoudro @leblubbles @marvelsvision @there-will-be-p-e-a-c-e @and-claudia @multifandombtch @sinister-sleep @moonstuffsteve @endorpuff @thanoshadtosnaptwiceforyou @cryinggarbagebag @eristudytime @grifffins @reichelhache @whoreforsamwilson @booksarekindaneat @ajeff855 @sapphiredreamer26​ @marvel-trash-bin @tendertales73 @nocturnal-world @buckys-sugardoll @galaxypox @valeskasgf @mochminnie @cheekybluefox @ashamed23 @lonely-ghost-daddy​ @miranda-paige  

(tumblr won’t let me tag some of you for some reason, maybe check your visibility settings - I’ll keep trying!!)

[missjaystone]

Inescapable

Summary: Even in the middle of the ocean, your alpha manages to find you, even if it was an accident. Pairing(s): Alpha!Helmut Zemo x Reader Word Count: 3,640 Warning(s): NONCON! DUBCON! A/B/O Dynamics! Forced Claiming! Manipulation! Implied Stalking! Miscarriage mentioned! Death mentioned!

Everything around you froze when you looked up and met a certain pair of brown eyes, a certain sparkle when they looked into yours. The contact was brief before he was led around the corner by the Dora Milaje but it felt like it would never end. You worked on the Raft as a therapist to put as much distance between the two of you as possible but now that he was here, where could you go? The way he smiled at you as he walked by, it wasn't comforting like the first time you'd seen it, it made your heart stop in fear. It made his claiming mark on your neck throb in pain, a reminder of how much power he'd had over you before and how much he'd always have. It reminded you that he was your alpha, whether you wanted him to be or not. The man that passed by you wasn't the man you'd met, he was much worse.

The battle was over, your husband was dead, the child you were growing followed suit not long after you got the news, like he couldn't bear to even be born in a world without his father; you couldn't even blame him, you'd contemplated ending your own life to join your husband in whatever afterlife awaited. You'd just gone back to work after your allotted week of bereavement leave and another week of personal time. You weren't sure if you were ready to go back to work or not, but at the very least it would distract you. The first thing you noticed when stepping into your office were the pictures of you, your husband, and his family. You turned the picture frames face down before you could stare for too long, everyone in the pictures was dead; your husband, your mother and father in law, your two brothers-in-law, everyone.

Your first patient came exactly at 9:30 for their appointment. He was a brown-eyed brunette man of average height, dressed surprisingly nice for a therapy appointment. You greeted him with a soft smile and a handshake. "Welcome, Mr..." you trailed off so he could introduce himself. "Zemo," he answered, his thumb running over your knuckles gently before he let go of your hand and took a seat "Baron Helmut Zemo." "Would you like me to address you as Baron Zemo or Mr. Zemo? Or just simply Helmut if that would make you comfortable?" You asked him. "You can just call me Helmut, Doctor, but thank you for asking," he returned the same sad smile you'd given him when he came in. "Well, Helmut, I'm glad you came in. It's never easy dealing with loss and having someone to talk to is far better than bottling it up. I'm proud of you." He gave a single nod after looking around the office, motioning to the overturned picture on your desk "I thought my friend might be nuts to have referred me here but maybe you understand my pain better than anyone can." You smiled sadly at him "you'd be surprised at how many people understand." You saw his attention drift towards the sweets jar on your desk, holding it out to him "Turkish delight?" He smiled a bit more, this time a little more genuine as he took a piece out "don't mind if I do, Doctor."

After your first appointment, he came back twice a week. He told you about his wife and son, how much it hurt when he finally found their bodies amidst all the rubble. You asked him about his favorite memories with them, trying to make him remember the good times. You asked him about them; his wife's favorite flower or his son's favorite toy, encouraged him to open up about them. Soon he had you talking about your husband and the people you lost. It was amazing how effortlessly he tore down both your professional and emotional walls. He had you falling for him before you even knew you were.

For two months you tried every which way to talk him down off of his growing rage and hatred for the Avengers. You used everything you'd learned in school to make him understand breaking them apart wouldn't bring back his family or make anything better. At the beginning of the third month, he seemed to drop it, and you foolishly thought that was the end of it, that he'd seen reason. He'd slowly been getting bolder during your appointments, asking questions, each more personal than the last but only by a little. One evening, after seeing him for almost four months, he showed up about half an hour after your last appointment of the day, it was about a quarter of six. He was dressed just as nice as he always was, maybe even nicer "I hate to disturb you so late, doctor but may I take you out to dinner this evening? I'd very much like to thank you for these past months; I knew it's your job but I can't imagine what kind of troubled headspace I'd be in if I didn't have you to talk to." He'd asked so politely, how could you refuse? While you gathered your things, you missed the hungry look in his eyes. You missed the way they dragged over your body, the same way a lion looks at his prey. You'd be his omega soon. Whether you wanted it or not. You were his innocent, gentle little lamb and you needed to be protected from other wolves.

Thirty minutes later, the two of you were at his favorite fine dining restaurant in all of Novi Grad. It was fun, the most fun you'd had in months since the battle of Sokovia and the heartbreak that followed. After that first dinner together, it became a more frequent occurrence, usually once a week after his appointment. You were smart, you knew how stupid it was to be dining with the patient so frequently. This professional relationship was becoming close and intimate. He had you on the hook before you could even realize it and pull away. As you began dining with him more, your guard fell. Helmut was no longer your patient, he was your friend, he understood your pains. You began dining together more frequently and then he introduced alcohol into the equation.

When you looked back at everything, you cursed yourself for being so stupid. How could you not see his plan? He was making you comfortable so it'd be easier for him to go in for the kill. Everything you shared with him would get used against you later. Helmut could play your mind like a flute and you let him, you gave him the tools he needed to find your weak spots and exploit them for his own benefit. If he'd crashed into your life and caused as much trouble as he had, you could hate him, but you let him in, welcomed him even and he made himself as comfortable as possible before finally taking what he came for.

Your first night together was gentle and slow, getting to know each other's bodies on such an intimate level. You turned your back to him afterward, eyes watering as the feeling of betrayal settled in the pit of your stomach like a stone. "What's the matter, malo jagnje? Did I hurt you?" He'd asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he looked you over worriedly. You shook your head, quickly wiping your tears before they hit the satin pillow sheets beneath you. "No, it's not you, Helmut," you whispered. "Then what?"  He asked, a worried frown on his face. "I just worry, it feels too soon, like I've already started moving on," you answered with a sniffle. "Nobody mourns the same, jagnje, it's different for everyone. You told me that," he assured you, wrapping you in his arms and pulling your back to his chest.

He repeated everything you'd told him whenever you got emotional. 'Sometimes the best way to honor someone's memory is to find new ways to be happy' 'you can't beat yourself up for being happy without them, this is what they would have wanted' 'nobody can ever replace them but you can't wallow in self-pity forever'. Every piece of advice you gave him was used back against you. The two of you had been seeing each other for two months before you stopped answering his calls and messages. He'd shown up at your apartment when you hadn't returned his messages, worried something had happened to you, that his little side activities trying to destroy the Avengers might have led to you being hurt or captured or worse.

He was relieved to find you alive and well. "You haven't been speaking to me, are you unwell?" He asked after you hesitantly let him inside. "I don't think I can keep doing this, Helmut, I'm sorry," you said in a shaky, quiet voice. His face fell in disappointment "what's the matter? Have I done something? Malo jagnje, please, you can tell me anything you know that," he pleaded, taking your hand only to have it slowly pulled from his grasp.

"It's not you, Helmut," you said as clearly as you could muster, wiping the tears that were already beginning to roll down your cheeks. "Then what is it, moj voljeni? What's happened?" He pleaded for an answer. "It was too soon, I can feel myself forgetting him and I don't want to. I don't want to forget all the time me and Christoph spent imagining and building our future together. I don't want to forget about the baby we almost had, that died inside of me almost as soon as he heard the news of his father's death. I don't want to forget everything he and I had but when I'm with you, I feel the memories slipping away and I'm not ready and I'm so sorry for that Helmut," you told him, sniffling throughout. He stared at you for a long moment after you finished speaking, not saying anything. When he finally did react, he approached you and pressed a kiss to your forehead "I understand, little lamb, and I'll wait for you." With that, he gave you a tight hug, rubbing your back comfortingly as you sobbed into his chest for a bit before he left. You went to sleep that night thinking about how lucky you were to have a confidant like Helmut in your life.

You remembered thinking that was the end of things. He took it well and things would continue as they were before you became sexually involved. No wonder he called you his little lamb, you were too innocent and naive to see the anger in his eyes when you told him you'd stop sleeping together. If you knew then what you knew now, you would have run from the hills, hidden at the north pole. You would have gone to the police and gotten a restraining order or hired a security detail. But you didn't do any of that. You were a lamb being led to the slaughter by no one other than yourself.

Helmut stormed into your office on a night he knew you stayed late to put the week's worth of notes away in their correct files. As fast as he'd appeared, he'd closed and locked the door behind him, watching your stunned form for a reaction. "Helmut?" You barely managed to get his name out before he'd crossed the room, pulling you to him and into a rough kiss. No matter how much you shoved his chest, he only pulled away when he was ready to. He effortlessly picked you up and set you on your desk, already positioning himself between your legs "I've waited for you to realize your mistake, jagnje, but I'll wait no more. I know you love me, омега, you're troubled mind is still reeling from the loss too much to accept it." "Helmut, I don't want this anymore, stop it," you shoved him away but it did little to dissuade him. It only angered him.

He grabbed your jaw tightly and made you look into his eyes; the pools of brown swirls had been replaced by black, lust-blown pupils of a... an alpha going through his rut. It sent waves of panic through your mind but waves of something else to your core. You whimpered when you felt your heartbeat speed up, reacting to the alpha's close, intimidating presence. "Helmut this isn't what you want, this isn't you," you tried to reason despite the rising panic telling you to run. He chuckled darkly "oh, little lamb, this is what I've longed for since before I stepped foot in your office. I caught a whiff of your sweet, scent when you visited the memorial all those months ago and I knew you'd be mine. You might not want to admit it, but your body knows you need an alpha like me to treat you right, keep you safe," he hummed as he ground the growing bulge in his pants against your clothed core. "Helmut-" you started, but his squeezing your jaw harder made you stop immediately. "You'll address me as alpha from now on, little lamb. I'd rather not hurt you but tonight I will make you mine by any means necessary, understood?" He asked, loosening his hold so you could nod, which you did hesitantly.

Pleased, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants and pulled them and your underwear down, a smirk appearing on his features. He pulled your pants completely off and discarded them carelessly, holding your underwear up so you could see just how much you didn't want this; the flimsy black fabric already had a small amount of slick arousal on it. You watched in embarrassed shock and he brought the fabric close and sniffed it, a pleased hum leaving his lips as he tucked them into the pocket of his pants. "I think you do want this little omega, you want to please your alpha don't you?" He asked softly as his hand slowly drifted higher up on your thigh. "You aren't my alpha, Helmut," you said bitterly, ignoring the tears that stung your eyes as you glared daggers at the man you'd considered your friend and confidant. He snarled and dropped his hand to your neck, squeezing until the air barely flowed "but I will me, little lamb. And you'll be my perfect little omega, my perfect girl who'll give me the family we both crave and deserve."

His hand on your thigh finally came in contact with your core which was already soaked and ready for him. He hastily pushed in two of his fingers, curling them as he pulled you into a dominating kiss, nipping your bottom lip enough to bruise. Your denials were muffled by his lips and soon faded into pitiful, needy whines from his unwanted touches. He smiled darkly against your lips when he felt your body arch into him "see, омега? Your body knows what it wants, it's that big beautiful brain of yours that's keeping you down." You shook your head, trying to save any dignity you had left, which was none "I don't want this, Helmut, and I don't want you!" The words felt like acid coming up but his chuckle hurt worse. He was three fingers deep in your cunt, pulling whines and quiet, muffled moans from your lips, he knew you didn't mean that.

When he abruptly pulled his fingers out, you regrettably let out a disappointed whine, another, needier whine following as you watched him suck his fingers clean without break eye contact. It took .2 seconds for him to undo his belt and push his pants and briefs down, stroking his throbbing cock while he looked into your eyes. His hand still holding your wrist remaining just as tight. "I'll always take good care of you, my needy little lamb, you'll never want for anything ever," he promised, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead that didn't match the roughness he used to immediately bury himself to the hilt. He started off with a brutal pace, not giving you any time at all to adjust as he had before. His thrusts were purely animalistic, he was just an alpha trying to knot the omega in front of him amid his own release. He let you bury your face in his chest as an escape for now, whispering the filthiest things you'd ever heard in your life.

"See, little lamb? See how much you need your alpha to make you feel good, make you feel better than good?" He asked when you finally gave up on trying to mentally escape the moment. "N-not my alpha," you stuttered out in between the rough hammering of his hips. He snarled and bared his teeth, eyes darkening even more than you thought possible. "We'll see," he mumbled angrily. He tilted your head and moved your hair out of the way quickly, leaving no time for you to react before he sunk his teeth into your mating gland, his hips faltering a few times before his movements went from thrusts to more a series of rapid ruts as his knot began to inflate. Your pained scream was music to his ears, it was the sound of you becoming his omega, making it so no other alpha alive would dare to so much as breath on you.

When he detached from your shoulder, he again pulled you into a kiss, making sure you could taste the metallic taste of your blood on his lips while the feeling of euphoria from the bite coursed through your veins, reaching every last nerve ending. He let out a pleased groan when he felt your cunt strain around his knot as you came, sending him headfirst into his own climax almost immediately. His face happily buried in your chest as he rode out his orgasm, ropes of his cum painting your walls, reaching your innermost areas while you held onto him for dear life.

Your stifled sobs made him look up, a small frown on his face. "Oh, little lamb, don't cry," he said softly as he wiped your cheeks "I just want to keep you safe from all the wolves in the world, it won't always be this way." He ignored how hard your palm connected to his cheek "you bastard!" He gently picked you up and sat down in your chair, letting you curl up in his lap without dislodging his knot, smirking slightly when he heard your whimper at the shift in position. He soothingly rubbed your back as he held you close, comforting you "it's okay, омега, I'd hoped you'd accept us on your own terms but my rut came early and nobody else will do." You hated this; being reduced to your dynamic, to some cock sleeve for him to use as he saw fit. He'd bound you to him for the rest of your lives and there was nothing you could do about it now, so you curled into his chest and sobbed until you had no more tears.

You recalled the way he stayed with you for the rest of the night, comforting and tending to you. He'd return often, usually every other day to take you out somewhere for a date or just show up at your apartment to do it all over again. You couldn't put up much of a fight, once he was close enough, your omega side came out and you were putty in his hands. And he knew that, and he treasured it. He showered you in gifts; clothes, jewelry, wines, books, everything he could think of. When his visits became few and further in between, you hated the nerves you felt. You hated the way you wondered when he'd come back home to you. You were messed up, and it felt like it was all your doing. You broke your professional rules. You let him into your life. You told him everything he needed to know to get to you. You let him claim you. You were Baron Helmut Zemo's little lamb, and he'd never let you forget it, leaving bruises on your thighs and hickeys on your neck to show any and everyone you were a protected little omega, and woe to anyone who caught your alpha's wrath.

You then had to watch in horror as his actions became known on the news; he'd never given up his plot to destroy the Avengers. He'd succeeded more than he could have ever dreamed of and now, he was in jail. He'd be in jail for the rest of his life. It felt like losing your husband all over again, the pain deep in your heart hurt twice as much now. You practically had to go through detox to get used to life without your Helmut around you. You were still protected by his mark but you'd never get to listen to him shower you with praises while he cleaned you up after sex. You had to get used to a life without being on his arm and you hated yourself for craving his attention and companionship that you'd still claim to hate.

He smiled so happy when they stopped while waiting for the door to open. He spoke in Sokovian so nobody around understood him "izgledaš prelepo kao onog dana kad sam te pogledao, jagnje malo." "What'd he just say?" Your superior asked, looking between the two of you. You felt that familiar stone in the pit of your stomach, he'd have you doing his bidding in no time. You were already wrapped around his finger. You shook your head and looked at your boss "he's mistaken me for someone else." "Jedva čekam da stignem, jagnje," Helmut said with a smirk before he was pulled away by a member of the Dora Milaje, leaving you with a wink.

-malo jagnje - мало јагње - little lamb -jagnje - јагње - lamb -moj voljeni? - мој вољени - my beloved -омега - omega -izgledaš prelepo kao onog dana kad sam te pogledao, jagnje malo - изгледаш прелепо као оног дана кад сам те погледао, јагње мало - you look as beautiful as the day I laid eyes on you, little lamb -Jedva čekam da stignem, jagnje - Једва чекам да стигнем, јагње - I can't wait to catch up, lamb