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fumifooms · 1 year

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Analysis of Laios’ succubus and theories on what it means - deep dive on Laios’ desires in human connections

Laios’ succubus is a very odd incident. I have some particular interpretations of why it was Marcille, and why things went down the way they did.

We know that a succubus shows what one desires, stated in canon as “an alluring form”; yes often in a romantic or sexual sense, as seen with Chilchuck’s succubus being entirely set on looks and seduction, meanwhile Marcille’s does have a focus on chivalrous noble demeanor as well, showing romantic behavior and personality. BUT with Izutsumi we also see that the liaison doesn’t have to be romantic or sexual at all, either, in Izutsumi’s case it’s a familial bond she craves. So perhaps we can say that the succubus exploits a desire based on connection, in whichever form that takes. Marcille wants an emotional connection foremost(which is also reflected in how it’s a character she knows very well and not a stranger. Perhaps romantic.), Chilchuck wants pleasure(a simple pleasure not unlike alcohol, perhaps such a connection is free of the more risky or unpleasant parts of a relationship, he doesn’t have to worry or to think and can just let himself go. Sexual.), Izutsumi wants a mother figure that can offer her warmth and comfort with who she doesn’t have to be tough (Familial), and I believe Laios’ is platonic and centered on his desire to have people with who he belongs and can be himself with…

But Laios’ case is more complex, it has layers. The thing is, even if Laios wanted to have someone able to turn him into a monster—which it didn’t even have to be, could straight up have just been a monster with such powers—, it didn’t have to be someone he knew. You could say the succubus wanted to disarm Laios’ suspicions with someone he knew and that was nearby, but the succubus seem very direct in every other case, simply appearing with someone’s greatest appearance even though both Marcille and Chilchuck were fully on guard and the succubi knew it. "Believability" isn’t an important factor. No, his succubus being someone he knew was important. It being Marcille was important.

There’s a TLDR at the end of this if you want to cut it short. For everyone else, strap in everyone, if you don’t know me hi I’m Fumi and I made this 3k words long analysis and theorizing bc I am autistic much like the character in question and I think this is both fascinating and has a lot to say. In this I offer both platonic and romantic reasonings and I do go rather in depth in Laios’ psychology and relationships to dissect what ever could this damn cryptic event MEAN. Spoilers for the succubus chapters obviously and also the last few arcs of the series so… Spoilers for the series as a whole!

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So attraction wise it’s kinda unsure where Laios stands. He does sort of logically list off aesthetically pleasing traits of the orc’s wives, but besides that… Not really, or he never voices it anyways. He and Marcille never share like “omg you’re pretty” moments or anything. Senshi gets more compliments than either of them through the series lmfao. Maybe Laios is asexual, maybe he simply doesn’t show outwardly his attraction much or even maybe isn’t self-aware about it, regardless… Laios HAS implied preference for Marcille’s looks in the past. With the orcs, he said that “tallmen like long ears”. Laios’ shapeshifter of Marcille has her hair down just like her succubus, which by Kui is explained to be because she had it down when she revived Falin and it really marked him, though it could also be interesting to see it as his mental image of her as her most authentic self, I’ve seen it theorized that it’s a preference too but I think that’s disproven. But of course the most damning evidence itself… The succubus scene. It could have been anyone else in the party, certainly Senshi shares Laios’ interest in monsters much more already. We shouldn’t discredit the way Laios was blushing madly once she revealed she was a monster, that made her more attractive to Laios for sure, but he still wouldn’t have reacted that way if it was just anyone. The contexts are very different, but we can compare it to how Laios reacted when Lycion turned into a wolf man in front of him for instance. Laios certainly doesn’t act that way with Izutsumi- and it’s confirmed like a page later that he does see Izutsumi as a monster already. AND!! Laios starts blushing madly BEFORE she says that she can turn him into a monster- and we can safely assume that the blush isn’t out of simple fluster but out of desire/infatuation since he clearly wants her to bite him in the next page and his blush does not relent at all.

There’s something we could say about Laios’ liking of Marcille being born out of companionship rather than aesthetic attraction, on familiarity and intimacy. As members of the same party they’ve spent a lot of time together and we’ve seen that Laios trusts in her and relies on her for her skillset and avice. If Laios’ interest in her developped more naturally and gradually, valuing the familiar bond they have, I don’t see why he’d be acting all blushy and lovesick every time they interact or whatever, which is the explanation I have for Marcille genuinely being Laios’ most alluring form but him not freezing at the sight of it. That could also be a reason why he physically rejects succubus!Marcille instinctively, because something about her feels off or different (which is sorta the most direct interpretation of the scene, since Laios’ first thought is that it can’t be Marcille and must be a monster).

[Edited in: Oh my god. The picture above is the last page of the dullahan chapter, chapter 57, a chapter that centers around Laios and Marcille’s relationship through flashbacks as Laios is on the brink of death and sees his life flashing before his eyes (he remembers how they first met, etc, which is also interesting to note that on the brink of death he reminisces about her the most). The last page of that chapter, more or less the thesis of the chapter in which we see Laios opens up about the real reason he and Falin go dungeon diving to her after them having a rough meeting but she turns out to also have an interest in dungeons, has Laios go "she starts out frowning but she ends up smiling! Wether its’s about eating monsters or about me :)”. That chapter is the one right before th succubus chapters. Laios’ most alluring form wasn’t “just” Marcille, it’s a SMILING Marcille. Which is why the succubus had such a weird and off demeanor right away (which gets knocked off once it doesn’t work and becomes a more Marcille-like Marcille)! It was only focused on smiling because it was the angle it was working from.

Oh my god it makes sense. It’s a direct narrative link, it’s as explicitly put with its story structure without Kui just stating it, besides, you know, the many times Laios says how precious her smile is to him. He’s like “I love her smile” and right next chapter the succubus is like “yes this is what he likes seeing most”. But… This also does mean that the focus might be less romantic, like Marcille’s significance doesn’t diminish, but then the alluring form might be less about her and more about the smile itself. About having a friend who looks at him like that, about someone who smiles after eating monster dishes or surpassing obstacles together… Or it can actually be so much more romantic. Like, maybe the smiling Marcille doesn’t work is because well, it’s not like Marcille, she wouldn’t just be smiling like that and behave like that (esp since his musing is about how her smiles are sort of “earned”, that she doesn’t smile right away but it’s sort of like a rewarding sight when she does). So then the most alluring form of Marcille doesn’t work because she doesn’t convincingly BEHAVE like her. His most alluring form isn’t a Marcille-lookalike, it’s her as a whole. More on the succubus shifting/switching in its approach later.]

Anyways.

Where was I. Ah yes, “It could have been anyone else in the party, certainly Senshi shares Laios’ interest in monsters much more already.” But then that’s the point isn’t it. I think Laios’ succubus being Marcille is because his wish isn’t so much focused on her, or on becoming a monster, but on not being alone. On being understood. On having others finally share his interest. On not only becoming a monster, but having someone to share that with. A trusted friend, a companion, or a lover, it matters little in my interpretation, the bedrock of it stays the same. And this is why it’d be someone he already knew instead of someone new, because it’d defeat the point, and it was maybe Marcille because she’s the most vocal about finding monsters disgusting: it’d have finally been a shift in her that she now liked monsters. And again this brings back to when he talks about her smile, when he says that she starts out unhappy with eating monsters, but ends up smiling by the end of it. Her smile itself represents that though first impression or reflexive dislike, someone can turn around and end up liking it anyways, it’s hope for his interests to be liked and perhaps for him to be lovable as well, that it’s possible to be accepted.

But I do think it would be a mistake to say that there’s absolutely no romantic interest, that it’s plainly platonic or another kind of interest misplaced and idealized in her. What we saw with the other succubus is that they 100% act in ways that the person desires, sure Izutsumi’s start attacking after a while, but that was after pushing them over the edge, and succubus Marcille wasn’t being agressive nor did she have a reason to be (even when she could have with Laios’ choking, she didn’t turn to violence, so she was 100% still in seduction mode). Ultimately the goal of the succubus is to make physical contact to be able to suck their essence, but the way they go about achieving that is tailored to the individual’s desire, Marcille’s kissed her hand and Izutsumi’s offered a hug. The succubus can identify and embody complex desires, often subconscious ones, shown with Izutsumi’s. They go straight to it without complex subterfuge either. Chilchuck’s succubi were very direct because that’s what he wanted, Marcille’s was courtly because that’s what she wanted, Izutsumi’s offered motherly comfort and affection because that’s what she wanted, and Laios’ is Marcille attempting to kiss him. Let that sink in.

Laios why are you choking the supposed key to your heart?

Ok so the theory that Laios’ desire is to have a deeper companionship from an existing companion is pretty tame and surface level I’d say, but strap in… The way Laios reacted violently to Marcille trying to kiss him is VERY interesting. The first thing he thinks about is that she isn’t Marcille so she must be a succubus, then confusion at to why it’s her. He’s even afraid of what the others would think, feeling… Shame? With how he imagines Marcille would be horrified that he likes her that way. Fear of rejection?

But no no, what interests me is the shift that the succubus makes. It seemed very confident at first, went straight in, but when overpowered shifted the direction it was going in- shifted from a desire for Marcille to a desire for a monster Marcille and whatever deeper desire that hides. But??? Succubi did not make mistakes as to what someone wanted thus far, possibly that has never ever happened before by human records. Could the succubus truly have miscalculated what Laios desires? It’d be hard to imagine that the succubus would misunderstand what type of companionship someone wished for or what approach to take, since it’s done complex cases before too, Izutsumi being very much in denial before it & at first. In Izutsumi’s case, even with her complex feelings over it and her two souls desiring different things, the succubus did not miss its mark, and ultimately it was having a second soul for who the succubus wasn’t alluring that allowed her not to be frozen to the spot. But with Laios the succubus fully switches strategy.

The thing is that succubi don’t usually need to switch strategies, because the form and approach they take always work and always leave the victim frozen. Izutsumi bypassed this because of her two souls, but was still frozen and struggling to reject the succubus at first. And yet? Laios did. A succubus’ victim is supposed to be instantly frozen, and yet Laios acts on instinct and defensively agressive as soon as his reaction time allows. And well, it’s hard to really come to a logical conclusion as to why, since we have no idea of what rules can override a succubus’ temptation besides multiple souls… C’mon regular Marcille can’t be the winged lion/kenksuke’s desire bc of the loose hair being Laios’ mind-Marcille we’ve gone over this /hj Although, since it’s confirmed that the winged lion was watching with the dream Laios gets induced right after, maybe he’s what allowed Laios to be moving? It’s possible that it’d have frozen him otherwise, even if Laios with his full rationale wouldn’t have accepted the kiss faced with supernatural allure he might have gotten paralysis from being overwhelmed, similarly to how if Chilchuck had his full rationale he wouldn’t allow a woman like his succubus to kiss him (he’s always stayed faithful to his wife even after 4 years of separation, give the guy his earned credit). Getting somewhat offtopic, but something to say about how if that’s the case once again the theme of ‘irrational desire you crave vs what you truly want/need’ that is present throughout the manga would be reflected.

My best guess however on why Laios reacted so quickly and forcefully is: trauma. The more recent arcs with Laios suggest that Laios has deep-seated trauma over humans. He dislikes humans as a whole, that was like, pretty much stated, though perhaps exaggerated. As a kid he fantasized about monsters wiping out human towns. We know Laios has been ostracized for most of his life by others, in his village and in the military, and beyond social rejection it’s shown he got beaten in group too and it was implied that it happened regularly. But damn, disliking humans to the point of wanting to be a monster and murderous genocidal reclusive envies and all of that stuff? That is massive trauma, massive identity & belonging issues and hint at massive trust issues.

So then, the negative reaction could be because of Laios’ deep trauma with humans. Because of trauma getting activated, not due to a miscalculation on the succubus’ part but due to a contradicting dislike of the desire that makes the form inherently and straight out of the gate un-alluring, Laios’ repression being so strong that he’s able to affect his own desires in that way, or an instinctive defense response to the trigger (a human). Even though Laios hides it well, once again recent arcs (and some other moments) make it clear that Laios still has some innate dislike of humans, which in canon is a term that all races like elves fit in. He has a bias against them, perhaps even an innate distrust of them. Who knows how aware he is of it, or how much control and will he has over it. What if Laios reacting agressively to it was his defense mode tied to this kicking in, a survival and security instinct, stopping any possibility of Laios wanting a romantic relationship with a human? Any chance of that human getting close and being hurt by it, either rejected or stabbed in the back? It’d then make sense if Laios is unaware and doesn’t understand his attraction to Marcille then, if it’s a sort of self-made blockage, denial. And that’d make full sense with how, when Marcille is suddenly a monster, then all of Laios’ reluctance is gone and he’s fully enthralled, all that it took was taking away that one blockage for Laios to be utterly charmed. It takes away the trigger element, humans, and replaces it for something safer. A desire for connections, but connections with people that are ‘safe’, people who also don’t fit in with society, who are part of his interest in monsters, who would accept and understand him. I think that Laios does desire human connections, specifically, but can’t allow himself to pursue them either from conscious or unconscious trauma, so though he does desire it he can’t accept that he does/can’t accept the relationship even if it’s handed to him on a silver platter.

Conclusion

The succubus’ shift could then be either that it switched from one wish, a wish for Marcille, to another, a wish for companionship in monster-liking, or that it stayed on the same fundamental wish, but had to improvise with the new information (that Laios is human-averse)(not bc it didn’t exist previously but bc it wasn’t manifested) to take out of the equation the thing that was holding Laios back (from giving in).

But well, the fact that the rest of the party is included does lean towards the former, but in any case that doesn’t erase all I’ve spoken about, all about how Marcille is 100% the focus of this whole thing. It could still be a bit of both. But it is interesting that he worries about the party’s reaction to seeing his succubus being Marcille, and when she shifts into monster Marcille he *still* worries about the others: “b-but what about the others?” He’s a mess, with his most alluring form seducing him, and he still has a shred of resistance in him to question how the others would react, and it’s only when she says that they’re already monsters too that he truly gives in. Is he really so afraid of ostracization? Of losing the people he cares about due to judgement? Then the mention of the others in the party can simply be something the succubus added on top to unlock another “blockage”, the same way she added Marcille being a monster on top of the basic premise of Marcille; Take out the immediate dismissal of humans first, and then the fear of loss and judgement from other friends so Laios can finally stop worrying and give in. That worry/framing I’d say makes the latter more credible, because it’s not the premise of the alluring form but an extra.

In the end, like the recent arcs kind of spell out, the thing central to Laios’ character is less so a love for monsters and moreso a dislike for humans, and this is what this puts on full display.

Laios’ most alluring form is Marcille, a human that doesn’t understand his interests and thus him, and regardless of everything else that Marcille is, that is so traumatic to him that all of his being immediately rejects it.

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Thanks for coming to my ted talk! I’ve spent so much time thinking about this and wording and rewording this same train of thought, also it’s the end of my college semester and I’m going crazy

Tldr: My personal fav theory for Laios’ succubus is that Laios really values Marcille’s smile a ton like it’s often mentioned, and that’s what his most alluring form centers on. I’ve got a ton of different interpretation on the why it’d go for a kiss? Since it tailors its approach to the person’s desires, but obviously something goes wrong with Laios’, which is really interesting because even with Izutsumi who resists because she has 2 souls so one part of her can always remain unaffected, the succubus hit bullseye on her most alluring forms. But regardless of that, I think his desire for Marcille (either her or what she represents, wether as a platonic ideal or something else) isn’t wrong/untrue perse, but that Laios has such a complex with humans and intimacy and connecting with others that his defense mode kicks in and that’s when the succubus has to shift into a different, safer desire: one that doesn’t involve humans but that still shows connections and acceptance and belonging. Also Laios realizes that it isn’t Marcille when she goes in for the kiss, which if his allure for her is based on familiarity since they’re friends and all could make sense that it’d break him away from it, or since it’s a liking based on familiarity he doesn’t freeze, or maybe it’s because the winged lion has its eye on him. I think that’s so much more likely with how Kui makes even her jokes be character moments or at least consistent, and also with the tension of the scene, than just the scene being a gag about how Marcille doesn’t mean much to Laios actually.

I think there’s a lot to be said about why Marcille is special to Laios, why her smile means something to him, etc, and I don’t think saying Marcille is special to him is exaggeration or reaching at all. Laios, Marcille and Falin are the golden trio, she’s the deuteragonist, she’s the only other character in the main party whose goal in going back for Falin is Falin and who has a bond with her and Laios outside of being coworkers, in post-canon they live together, happily, in the anime’s ending they’re emphased on by dining out all three together... I could go on. Marcille has the benefit of being very trusted by Laios, not only with the time they’ve spent together but how she was Falin’s friends first, the person he himself feels so protective of and has been so consistently ostracized throughout her life. Marcille represents a positive odd one out that’s like, the good example of "humanity can be good and safe and warm actually". Which is a big reason why imo Marcille is like, the secondary protag and with Falin they form the golden trio. She’s central to the story in many ways including making Laios see that humanity is worth saving and sticking with, but that’s a topic for another analysis. One such reason is how his first meeting with her went: it started really badly but ended with her coming around and unexpectedly sharing their interest in dungeons, which made him and Falin open up about the real reason they go dungeon diving, perhaps for the first time. There is just so much that goes into it but Laios seems generally very expectant of rejection: in the climax chapters after he transformed back as a human and was hiding out in the woods, pre-canon in an extra where we see him battling himself on if he should suggest eating monsters or not. But another one, the one I truly want to bring up in this post, is how genuine Marcille is! And funnily enough, how dramatic she is, and how her elf ears change position depending on her emotions. Like, let me compare her affectionately to a dog for a second, but dogs move their ears and use whole body language to communicate, and I think that part of Marcille, really strong emoting, with her ears and body language on top of her often dramatic facial expressions, reassure him. Like ok, maybe he can’t tell when Shuro and Kabru would lie to him, but Marcille? She wears her heart on her sleeve and her feelings on her whole self. And that takes away some of the stress and trauma he has with humans, explains why her smiles would “put him at ease”, doesn’t it?

I don’t remember wether I’ve mentioned this somewhere or just in my reblog linked at the end of the post, but while at first I thought the succubus going for a kiss on the lips heavily implied a romantic desire in Laios, now I have a couple different theories on why the succubus would have gone for that approach. I think the most likely is that, if the principal allure of his succubus is her smile, the succubus is like "as long as he sees her face right up until i can suck up his blood and he passes out I’ll be gucci", so it’s not about the kiss but about him seeing her face all the while until the very last moment, so he stays charmed.

Btw chapter 34 explores Laios’ relationship with touch too imo, and we see that he is uncomfortable with touch to some degree, very unsure and hesitant and tense. I feel like it’s something more shown in a bigger picture sense with his whole struggles with humans and extras, than just in any one page so go reread the beginning of that chapter if you want I’d say, but putting a page below as example anyways. I think it’s notable that it’s a character moment shared with Marcille too, she acts sort of like a bridge to humanity with social propriety and being extroverted in many cases. In the chapter Chil and Marcille point out how awkward he is with touch, but he learns to be casual/comfy enough about touch to do healing magic with her (something that was also enforced through him having to practice magic on Marcille turned to stone, he got a lot of touch exposure and magic practice done in those days. Dammit Laios, MArcille and touch is worthy of a whole analysis of its own). She’s just like, his human comfort zone, even if they aren’t that close at least at first, besides Falin he has literally like no friends and I think that itself shows how he doesn’t fit in well socially and that it’s a significant struggle for him. But yes what I was saying here is I believe there’s setup for him recoiling from touch like he did with the succubus (due to an instinctive aversion to touch made especially intense due to the succubus’ oddness and forwardness).

I have even more theories and rambling on details on the succubus here in a reblog, but unless I want to put in some pictures of Laios repressing himself around others and such I don’t think I’ll be touching this post again in a while

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #laios touden #scene analysis #character analysis #analysis #chapter 60 succubus #spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #marcille donato #autistic king of trauma laios #-points at him- that’s me!… That’s me!!#laimar #but this isn't laimar truthism #polished this up since it's been like what six months #looked upthe dates it's been nine months... Whew #something something 'the reason you're both touch starved and touch averse is you spent so long without human touch that you interpret any #touch as a threat'

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livsmessydoodles · 1 year

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honestly i think we moved on too quickly from this

like what do you MEAN they named the track that starts playing during the byler fight RIGHT AFTER MIKE SAYS "we're friends! we're friends" IN THE CLOSET??????? IN??? THE???? CLOSET?????? LIKE HOW BLATANT CAN YOU BE😭😭😭

stranger things has always named their leitmotifs/soundtracks very purposefully and something they love to play around with is titles with double meanings... whenever a track is played in more than one scene they always make sure to put in a name that works for all the contexts its used in

THIS TRACK SPECIFICALLY is used in two continuous scenes: mike and will's fight, and el crying alone in the staff room. they make it clear in the show where el is – they even make a point of showing the little board saying "STAFF ROOM" before going in and showing el alongside the brooms and cleaning material. placing those there DOES give the room the same function as a closet, so it justifies calling it a closet even after explicitly showing us its really not one, giving them plausible deniability

and putting into context how the name fits el's scene, there's really no other explanation to how it fits mike and will's scene other than the queer implications. especially when we consider at what moment the track starts playing in the first place:

right after mike claims he and will are just friends in a weirdly defensive tone.... and we know that a character claiming that their relationship with another character is platonic is a common romantic trope that stranger things itself makes use of frequently.... hmm🤨

and then we get to the most damning part of it all imo, the PARENTHESES

when they put "(At Rink O Mania)" in between parentheses, they're very much implying that bringing up rink o mania is simply an afterthought, and that the main, important part of the title is "In the closet". the part in parentheses is 100% connected to el's scene and used as a small explanation for why it fits her scene, by putting context behind the closet phrase to associate it with the location el is in. but when we consider the main title by itself, the phrase "in the closet" is directly associated with the queer phrase to refer to LGBT people who aren't open about their identity.

when they separate that part of the phrase from the specification of rink o mania, the queer implications are undeniable, especially when its such a popularly known phrase. the decision to name it this was completely conscious, and if they wanted to avoid those implications, they could have gone with a name more fitting, and not using the word "closet" altogether since it wouldnt really fit either scene...... yet they stuck to it😭

"In the closet (At Rink O Mania)" is a name just vague enough that if questioned, they could get away with explaining the name by alluring to el (even though shes not really in a closet) but its also specific enough that its obvious what they were actually referring to..... its a smart way of hiding their true intentions while simultaneously tipping us off. duffer brothers i am onto u

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dum1s-writings · 1 year

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Heya! I come from that-kid-fromtheplayground's blog! They reblogged your post and I thought It was pretty neat!

Um, If it's not much trouble then could I maybe get headcanons for being Alejandro's (tdwt) sibiling and being as hot as him and driving all the boys crazy just like he does with the girls but reader liking and flirting the most with Cody? Idk if I explained myself well lol /cries

[please, if you could maybe do the reader also protecting Cody from Sierra by putting her on her place? That girl creeps me out and also terrifies Cody and he's my fav character so... 💀]

Oh dear anon. Of course. Though I hope using gender neutral terms is okay. It's just what I work better with.

Info:

Reader is the younger sibling to Alejandro, so they'll have the same genetics. (

Reader is implied to look slightly more feminine than their brothers.

Any Spanish used will come from Google translate...I'm sorry.

I've decided the team Reader is on will be The Amazons, better for Cody and Sierra interactions.

Relationships: Platonic!Reader x Alejandro, OneSidedTDWTboys x Reader, Implied!Cody x Reader, Sierra vs Reader

Pronouns: They/Them

Warnings: Swearing, Manipulation from Reader, obsessive behavior from Sierra, terribly translated Spanish, only Alejandro being able to understand Reader and vice versa, Chris McLean

The World Tour contestants thought Alejandro and Sierra were the last surprises. But that changed when the young Spanish boy helped someone else out of the bus. They weren't super tall, just about 5'6" or so. They also looked surprisingly similar to Alejandro.

They had the same brown skin and dark brown hair, not nearly as long as Alejandro's. When they got closer to the contestants it was then the others noticed the lighter green eyes.

"This," Alejandro spoke up and pulled the shorter teen closer "is my youngest sibling, -Y/N-."

"Hola¹." Their voice was soft, but just as alluring as their older brother's. "I hope we can become good friends, even while competing against each other." -Y/N- smiled at the others and gave a particularly long look to Cody.

That was the beginning of the end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was an off day for filming. Slow and easy flying for the cast and crew. Team Amazon was in first class, enjoying the luxuries of winning. -Y/N- wasn't with their team, rather they were in economy. They claimed they wanted to see their brother but that went out the window fast.

The younger Burromuetro did talk to Alejandro for a bit. They quickly started talking to some of the other guys though. Especially since their brother was talking to the girls. They both had the same idea and plan going on, being siblings and all.

"So then what'd you do next, Tyler?" -Y/N- was sitting close by the (mediocre) high school athlete. The brunette teen flushed.

"Well then I pushed past some of the guys and-"

"Hey. Time for bed." An intern walked to the teens. "Chris's orders. -Y/N- head back to first class, please." The Spanish teen pouted for a moment but nodded and got up.

"I hope you'll finish the story later, Ty." -Y/N- leaned down and hugged the boy.

"Y-yeah, of course." The athletic boy agreed and hugged the other contestant back. This got a smile from the Spanish contestants.

When the lone Amazon walked back to first class they heard a happy shout of their name. Looking over they saw Cody. He was waving them over, happily but frantically. The teen happily bounded over.

-Y/N- quickly hugged their brother "Buenos noches, hermano²~". Alejandro hugged them back, also saying goodnight. "Buenos noches, tontos crédulos³~". They waved to the others, the boys waved back.

"Cody, mi hermosa florcita⁴." -Y/N- sat by the shorter Amazon member. Completely ignoring the very obvious glares coming from behind them somewhere. "Are you doing okay?"

"Uh I'll just say," Cody started off, looked to the side real quick and leaned into -Y/N- "being around you makes me feel safe." He finished off with a whisper. This caught the green eyed teen's attention.

"Well, Cody," -Y/N- pulled the boy as close to them as possible "I'll stay with you all night~" Cody's face got very very warm and very very red. Yeah he's had fans before, Total Drama and his boy band, but never has someone so pretty willingly doted on him....without it being Sierra and her creepy habits.

"Thank-" the boy's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Thank you, -Y/N-. I really appreciate it."

"Anything for mi hermosa florcita⁴~" Cody moved a bit closer to his teammate. From somewhere behind them Sierra nearly ripped into her pillow with how tight her grip was. She did end up ripping into it when the Spanish contestant ended up running their fingers through HER Cody's hair.

The late night hours seemed to fly by. Soon an intern started waking up the contestants. Breakfast was served and eaten, Cody was sticking by -Y/N-'s side. Sierra didn't do that great of a job hiding her anger.

When the Amazons finished eating -Y/N- went to economy class. Cody tried to convince them otherwise but that was pointless. The Spanish contestant made their way to the other teams. Gotta keep the guys thinking they had a chance.

Sierra immediately took the opening and nearly tackled Cody. The day before he was allowed to sit with Gwen and Courtney. Then -Y/N- came back and took up her rightful spot by Cody. The purple haired girl took the opening immediately.

The Burromuetro siblings were talking. It was quiet and in Spanish. Most of the others assumed it was about their family and home life. What they wanted to do if they won the money.

Around lunch -Y/N- went back to their team. What they were greeted with was quite the sight. Most of the girls were eating a 5 star lunch on one side. Sierra was being Sierra and that got to the young Spanish contestant.

"HEY!!" -Y/N- shouted and got everyone's attention. "ACOSADOR LOCO⁵!!" They stomped over to Sierra, who had Cody trapped in her arms. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm just eating lunch with Cody-kins." Sierra frowned and waved a hand dismissively. "No need to get so worked up over it." The girl held onto her victim teammate tighter, Cody was getting more visibly scared. "Can't I talk with my fellow Amazon?"

"When that teammate is Cody?" The Burromuetro crossed their arms, clearly more irritated. "No. You have NO self control when it concerns Cody." -Y/N- gestured to their trapped crush teammate. "He's absolutely terrified right now!"

"Now you pleito esperando a suceder⁶," the Spanish Amazon grabbed Cody and with all their strength pulled him away from Sierra "I recommend you keep away from mi hermosa florcita⁴."

Unknown to the mostly girl team Chris had heard drama happening and being Chris he ordered the crew to start recording. And ho-boy did he get the drama he was looking for. Sierra tried grabbing Cody while -Y/N- tried to keep him away from the stalker.

”Listen here you maldito psicópata delirante⁷," the Spanish teen was glaring at the tall girl "if you don't stop your mierda espeluznante⁸ I swear on my bisabuela's⁹ grave," -Y/N- grabbed the front of Sierra's top and got as in her face as they could "if I EVER see you bothering Cody again I WILL ruin your life."

"You can say goodbye to ALL your blogs. All your online followers. Your ENTIRE internet existence will be whipped out." Sierra was struggling to get her shirt free and when -Y/N- finally let go the girl nearly fell backwards. "I'll make sure of it personally." Sierra just nodded, actually kind of scared and wanting to avoid the Spanish contestant.

The younger Burromuetro grabbed Cody's hand, being careful to not squeeze it too hard, walked to a couple of seats further away from everyone and sat down. They ordered some food for themself and their shaken up teammate. The taller of the two placed their head on the other's shoulder.

"Let me know if that perra psicópata¹⁰ is bothering you okay, mi hermosa florcita⁴."

"Alright." Cody spoke quietly and held -Y/N- hand gently. "Thank you." In that moment the Burromuetro promised to themself they'd protect the shorter contestant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hola¹ - Hello

Buenos noches, hermano² - Goodnight, brother

Buenos noches, tontos crédulos³ - Goodnight, gullible fools

mi hermosa florcita⁴ - my lovely little flower

ACOSADOR LOCO⁵ - YOU CRAZY STALKER

pleito esperando a suceder⁶ - lawsuit waiting to happen

maldito psicópata delirante⁷ - fucking delusional psychopath

mierda espeluznante⁸ - creepy bullshit

bisabuela's⁹ - great grandma

perra psicópata¹⁰ - psycho bitch

Hopefully this was what you had in mind.

#dum's rules #total drama world tour #total drama x reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn!reader

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sailorblossoms · 2 years

Text

Heteronormativity was trapping for the main four in CO. Yep, even Penny

I've often talked about how it hurt Agatha and Simon in much more direct and invasive ways (comphet). They're the damsel/prize and the hero who were pushed into a performance of traditional straight conventions, which wasn't what either of them wanted, but they were unable to see outside of it. They were friends, and they could see the other was pretty (not remembering if Agatha talks about Simon being handsome directly, but she does talk about how beautiful and handsome his parents were, so). But they weren't in love, and weren't sexually attracted. However, heteronormativity tells you than a boy and girl being able to see the other is pretty is enough to believe there's attraction.

Agatha and Simon share a braincell a lot, and they villanized Baz (~The Villain~) in the same silly, over-the-top fairytale style (srly Agatha? Poison in tea?) as if Baz was gonna show up with his widows' peak and dark eyeshadow wearing a long, dramatic ass cape to Evily Steal Away Agatha (did they seriously imagine Baz as a classical queercoded villain? Simon does say he looks like an alluring old black and white movie actor when he just wakes up... I joke but also, wait a minute–). Baz fell for the same fairytale bs too. He didn't know shit about their relationship but imagined they "stood in front of the sunset, looking into each others' eyes while the wind caressed their hair with romantic drama" or some shit, and he thought that based on optics alone ("the golden couple") (WS tell us he did watch movies such as the Princess Bride, which has this kind of imagery). Most importantly, it made Baz afraid. He felt much safer pretending to be interested in the girl than letting Simon know his true feelings. He imagined Simon seeing him as monstrous (and given how often his vampirism is tied to his queerness, well).

Heteronormativy also tells us that platonic love is "impossible" between boy and girl. That girls must compete over a boy's attention, that a girlfriend must be the most important girl in his life, and female friends are not to be trusted. Simon's closest friends are girls, and while this bullshit never got between his friendship with Penny, it did affect the dynamic of the trio. Agatha felt like the third wheel–like she wasn't as close to either Simon or Penny as they were to each other, which can be isolating, given that they don't mention other really close friends outside of the trio. From her POV she felt left out, like what she wanted didn't matter as much, like she wasn't as important (even though the "gf is supposed to be the most important") and she was the one burdened with expectations while Penny could just be Simon's friend, free from it all, even though "they liked each other better". It'd feel unfair, and there's jealousy and resentment there, but it's not romantic. These are complex and very valid feelings for a teenage girl in her position, but it was flattened and reframed as "hetero competition" with Penny (as if romance's the only valid form of closeness between girls and boys) producing the truly cringe-inducing exchange "you're my girl" "Penny's your girl".

And Penny could sense this. She could sense something was fucking with the trio, but she didn't fully understand why. She was just like "what did y'all have to date??" but didn't go much deeper. She gets close when she thinks Agatha "isn't suited at all" to be Simon's girlfriend, but that she's still Simon's friend, one of Simon's only friends. And the way she thinks about this implies she has been thinking about this for a long time, maybe she was even vocal about it. "Has Simon finally realized?" she wonders, mistakenly assuming that Simon not wanting to leave Baz's house was about "not wanting to get back together with Agatha" when it was about not wanting to leave Baz.

That's another thing: Penny didn't pick up on the vibes between Simon and Baz. I know Simon's Baz-related behavior around her can feel so obvious to the reader that there's the temptation to say Penny suspected, but let me tell y'all: she did not suspect shit. She didn't!

It took until Penny watched Baz homosexually embrace Simon while calling him "love" for her to understand. Only then does she think "everything is starting to make sense" meaning that she's able to look back and understand in hindsight that there was no heterosexual explanation for the obsession those two had for each other. Only then. She didn't pick it up at Baz's house: she looked at them and basically thought "when this truce is over and they go their separate ways" while the reader knows those two are already on kissing terms. She saw Baz looking a little crazy at the thought of Simon running (or literally flying) into danger, and she was like "mayhaps there are leftover feelings from their rivalry?". She went along with Simon's stalking at first, she sat down with Simon to watch Baz play football while wearing his little shorts and she didn't pick up shit. She had to limit Simon's "Baz-talk" so they wouldn't just talk about Baz 24/7 and she still didn't suspect shit!! While that's partly just being clueless about romance, it's heteronormativity too: seeing what's classic, obvious crush behavior to the reader but not being able to realize what she's seeing (at least in part) because it's two boys. It only becomes obvious to her once they're "explicitly" behaving like a couple. (Then again, Simon was so unhinged about it you can't blame her for electing to just tune it out lol)

#simon snow #baz pitch #baz grimm pitch #penelope bunce #agatha wellbelove #snowbaz #carry on #simon snow trilogy

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jinjinranran · 2 years

Text

Jinae x Saeran 💗

I hc Saeran as bisexual (bcs I'm projecting lmao). He fell for mc for what kind of person they are and I really doubt their gender would be of much, if any, importance to him.

Also, what I like to think:

He's been through A LOT in his life, so his sexuality was the least of his concerns and he never really stopped to think about it. Only after he was free, maybe he had a conversation with mc about this topic and started to wonder about his identity.

And now in relation to my cmc/storyline - when Jinae told him she's bi and explained her experience, Saeran paused to think for a bit, and then said "hm... you know what? I might feel the same way.

You're the only one I care about though, my love."

...

maybe he's just mc-sexual 🤔😂

(I also very much vibe with pan and demi hcs for him I'm just casting bisexuality on my faves 😂)

Other characters: 💛 💜 🧡 💗 ❤️ 💚 💙 🤍 🤎

Jinae's story under the cut:

💗 Jinae Ahn ♡ she/her ♡ 20/21 yo ♡ bisexual

Jinae for a long time didn't think she could be anything but straight. She had crushes on boys, and had been in a relationship with one, so it didn't even cross her mind then. She did admire other women for their beauty, and in later teens, had girl friends she felt v e r y close to - looking back it was obvious that those were crushes - but she denied every thought that would imply those feelings weren't just platonic (because thinking about kissing your besties is not gay at all, am I right?). Or pushed them away to worry about later. She needed to focus on her dreams of becoming an idol, and her contract didn't allow dating anyway.

Her whole plan of pushing all suspicions away was ruined by one woman she met at 18. She completely swept Jinae off her feet, her voice and touch making her feel dizzy, her smell intoxicating - there was no point in denying any longer, and after many hours of Google searching and analyzing her whole life she realized - accepted - that she's bi.

Sometimes she wondered if all her male crushes were fake and she's actually a lesbian - but this theory was thrown out of the window by a smooth, alluring voice in her phone, introducing himself as a game developer.

She didn't fall for Ray right away. Yes, she thought he's attractive - the most beautiful man she's ever seen, even with those dark eye circles and his magenta coat, a little too big for his a little too thin frame - but Jinae is cautious with her feelings, and doesn't open her heart to just anyone.

Ray was... a fascinating individual for her. Who really was this guy, and why was he so obsessed with her? She'd lie if she said she didn't like the attention she received.

Very soon her mind was occupied with him and only him. Did he eat? Did he sleep? Or had been working all night again? I miss him. I want to hear his voice. I want to see him. Jinae wasn't sure if that's the beginning of love, or if she's just getting obsessed with him as much, or even more than he's with her. But she was certain of one thing - she wants to stay with him, no matter what's going to happen.

#mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #saeran #saeran x mc #ray #mystic messenger saeran #mystic messenger ray #mystic messenger cmc #custom mc #original character #headcanon #mystic messenger hc #my art #pili oc #oc: ahn jinae #cmc pride series 🏳️‍🌈#excuse my cringe writing attempt lmao I just have Many Thoughts bcs it's about Saeran afterall 😩

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emphasis-all-mine · 5 years

Note

Hi! I really love your writing (i am so in love with paper skin) so if you're willing, 16 with klance for the ask thing? :D

S8 Canonverse-ish, but let’s pretend it ends a whole lot better and Allura lives and even though you don’t see him at all Adam is alive and engaged to Shiro (yes these are v. important details.😉). Thank you @thetolkiengeek for giving this a once-over. :D

20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

“Lance?” Keith asks, tentatively knocking on the side of the open doorway.

Lance is sitting alone in one of the lounges on the Atlas. He looks up from his tablet at Keith.

“Yeah?” he answers. “Uh, you can come in? It’s a common room, mullet.”

Keith is wringing his hands. “Okay I should just say this so–Shiro and I were–ugh.”

“What?” Lance chuckles. “You look nervous, Keith what’s going on?”

“I’m from Texas, Lance.”

He rolls his eyes. “Gasp. Shock. Horror. Keith, how dare you keep this secret from your team,” he deadpans.

“I speak Spanish. I mean, I understand Spanish. I understand like contextual things I just can’t speak back fluently and I–”

“Do you want lessons or something? I can give you some fun Cuban swears and slang words.”

“I know…” Keith hesitates. “I know contextual stuff. I’ve snuck into night clubs in Austin to see some concerts and shows… Some of the were drag shows. So I know slang.”

Lance doesn’t respond.

“I heard you and Veronica talking.”

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t trying to listen in. You two were arguing really loud and you can’t just un-hear things, right? But I think you weren’t saying it in English for a reason, and Shiro was saying you probably had this expectation of privacy—I didn’t tell him what I heard, but I heard it. So it’s not fair to like… lie by omission, and pretend I don’t know what I know.”

Lance nods. “That’s definitely… yeah I would want to know and I wouldn’t have been happy if you hadn’t said anything.”

“So… I know that you’re bisexual. And you haven’t told your parents,” Keith sits down next to Lance on the couch. “Veronica was really mad about that. Are you two going to be okay?”

Lance rolls back his shoulders, rubbing his neck. “Yeah, she just wanted me to say something before the Atlas left Earth. I had this pact that if I ever got on an off-planet mission from the Garrison I had to come out if I hadn’t already.”

“Makes sense.”

“I probably should have then, I just didn’t really think that they’d get it. ‘Hey, so I know I’m going on a date with a space Princess, but I also like dudes, whatcha think?’” Lance laughs. “There’d be a lot to unpack, yeah?”

“Dating a girl doesn’t mean you stop being bisexual.”

Lance groans. “You sound like my sister.”

Keith bites his lip. “I never got to tell my Pop.”

“And you regret it?”

Keith nods. “I hope he knew. I mean, I never said anything about girls or whatever. But I never got to say the words to him when he was around. I never got to look at him and say ‘Hey Dad, I’m gay’ and feel relief or rejection. I guess I can pretend he’d react how I’d want him to, like telling me he loves and accepts me. But what if he wouldn’t have? I’ll never know for sure.”

“Did you tell your Mom?”

Keith nods. “She said if falling in love with an alien was any indication, that he’d believe love is love no matter what.”

“Well yeah, then I think he would have to,” Lance chuckles.

“You wanna know the fucked up thing? I would have still wanted to tell him even if I knew he would reject or disown me. He died not knowing a really important part of me… even though he kept important parts of my own history from me.”

Keith looks at Lance. He nods him on to keep speaking, looking deep into his eyes.

“I resented him for not telling me about my mom, that he knew I was part Galra. I hated him for leaving me before he should have,” Keith presses his mouth together. “I hate myself for not saying it the moment I knew.”

Lance looks down at his tablet in his lap. “When was that?”

“When I was eight and I wanted to watch The Birdcage because I loved Robin Williams movies and someone in my class told me I couldn’t because it was about two men that were married and I was like 'Men can do that?!’ And then I asked my teacher and he sent me home with a note for my Pop.”

Lance laughs. “Seriously?!”

“Yeah, he took one look at the note, grabbed a bottle of bourbon, took a drink, and proceeded to explain to me what 'gay’ and 'lesbian’ meant. He took another shot of bourbon right after and told me that I could see the movie—when I was older. Not because of the gay stuff, but because it had too much swearing and I wouldn’t understand all of the jokes.”

“Did you see it?”

“Yeah, I actually woke up at three in the morning and watched it on cable while he was asleep. They censored the swears, so I figured it was okay?”

“What did you think?”

“I think I wanted to marry the son, he was cute,” Keith smiles. “I was pretty stoked that men could get married to other men. I mean, I didn’t know it still was illegal so I just kind of kept that in the back of my pocket.”

“So… I wanted to be Clark Gable in It Happened One Night,” Lance smiles. “I wanted to be that kind of suave, worldly, fast-talking and sharp-witted guy. And then I wanted to be Han Solo. And then Captain Kirk.”

“But then, one day you realized you wanted them to be as suave and charming with you too?”

“I still think about the walls of Jericho coming down in that movie. And sometimes there’s a girl on the other side, sometimes there’s a guy.” Lance licks his lips. “That’s the only way I can think to explain it.”

“You flirt with girls a lot.”

“I never learned how to flirt with guys,” Lance shrugs.

“If it doesn’t work out with Allura, I’ll teach you–” Keith’s eyes go wide. “I… totally just said that out loud. Oh fuck. I am so sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

Lance stands up. “That’s too bad. Would’ve been a really smooth, suave line if it was intentional.”

“I guess,” Keith watches as Lance stretches out long limbs. “You can have it for if you ever need to flirt with a guy, I mean, I guess it’s just like flirting with a girl only––ugh. Flirting is not my thing. At all. Ever. Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, gonna go call my parents. I can’t really keep putting it off, especially if I break through the walls of Jericho, and there’s my dream guy on the other side.”

Keith smiles. “I’m happy for you, Lance.”

“Then maybe we can watch The Birdcage and It Happened One Night as a way to keep me from hyperventilating in case it doesn’t work out?”

“That would be fun, but I’m hoping it works out the way you want.”

Lance nods and turns to leave, but spins on his heels. “For the record, it didn’t work out with Allura. We’re just friends.”

“Oh?”

“Which you knew, because Veronica and I were arguing about that too.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean to hear that either. Also the stuff about a long-haired friend that you wanted to ask out next.”

“I might have almost had a teeny-tiny, itty-bitty, full on panic-attack type meltdown when she asked if she could ask them out. So she called me out on harboring a not-so-secret crush on them. I fessed up to Allura that night about it. She said it was okay, and she always thought we’d be better together than her and I.”

“Wow, that’s really mature of you both.” Keith says. “So, Veronica pretended she wanted to hook up with Romelle? I mean, I’m guessing she’s the long-haired friend in question.”

Lance laughs. “Actually, mullet, I already asked out the long-haired friend on a movie date.”

Keith blinks.

“I’m not sure if he sad yes though, he’s being really vague. Guess I have to work on my guy-flirting some more.”

From the Writing Prompt Meme!

#klance #klance ficlet #em answers #l-x-ie #s8 canonverse-ish #s8 but without everything bad #veronica is the sister we need #implied allurance (platonic though)#coming out #tw: homophobia mention #tw: biphobia mention #writing prompt meme #writing prompt #em writes #spoiler: the walls of jericho come down and Keith is there #spoiler: keith knows the entire fosse fosse fosse monologue #spoiler: lance loves clark gable #;)#I hope you like it even though we changed prompts!!

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lovelybarnes · 2 years

Text

rockefeller- s. rogers

pairings: steve rogers x reader, platonic tony stark, natasha romanoff, and wanda maximoff warnings: a little angst, takes place around christmas and a christmas tree, but to keep it as open as possible, it doesn’t imply that it is celebrated/any beliefs, since it wasn’t mentioned in the request about: request! friends to lovers with steve rogers basically a/n: something happened, so i was unable to finish and post this before, but i hope you like it!

you had woken up with glittering eyes, still riding the high from the touch of steve’s hand on your waist from the day before, soft words played on a smile you’d only ever seen directed at you doing nothing but give you hope that maybe you did have a chance with not captain america but steve rogers.

gentle butterflies in the same shade of blue as steve’s eyes hadn’t stopped fluttering in your stomach, pleasantly pulling a hopeful smile from your lips, fingers pulling at each other in the hopeful thoughts that your feelings were returned. when you looked at your reflection in the mirror, skin glowing bright, a dumb little grin plastered on your face, the unmistakable glimmer in the color of your eyes, you could feel the pull of the rational side of you calling you dumb.

the other part of you, however—the one that bit her lip whenever she snuck a look at the man, only to find his eyes already on her, the one who felt happier with the hope so rarely given in her field of work—cut it with a sharp pair of scissors each time steve’s ears turned a bright red whenever you complimented him on something or when he’d wink at you or wordlessly communicate with you whenever you were preoccupied with something else.

yesterday had been the push off of the dangerous cliff into a clear, warm pool of water on the side that had seemed bigger, enticing enough to convince you to take the plunge, even though there resided a dark, freezing ocean right next to it; depth unknown, pain and cold shock already clear from the sight of it.

the relaxed shoulders and the raised chin couldn’t be helped as you walked through the compound, the excitement of being able to see steve in the kitchen in the morning like always etched deep into your bones, hurrying your steps and making the transparent blue of the welcoming sea so much more alluring with the prospect of walking to the room with his hand in yours.

it was perhaps why you didn’t hear the other voice in the kitchen, and absolutely why you were caught so off guard.

“i really like how this shirt looks on you, steve. seriously, i don’t think i’ll ever look at another man in blue the same,” a voice giggles, golden blonde twirled around a long finger as the other hand preoccupies itself on steve’s shoulder.

your steps slow, unintentionally pausing in the doorway when you finally notice the young agent standing in front of steve, large doe eyes blinking up at him as she laughs again, another compliment accompanied by the batting of her lashes. steve’s ears and cheeks are tinged pink at the attention, as his hand reaches to the back of his neck, flustered, “heh, that’s kind of you to say…”

you gulp down the hope that had been brewing in your throat since steve had pressed his lips against your cheek in a goodnight kiss the night before. you don’t want to feel like this, like a lovesick teenager brewing with jealousy at the sight of someone who is not even theirs with someone else, but at the sight of the agent sidling up even closer to steve, you can’t seem to help it.

“you should totally wear more blue, you look super good in it. are you going to train right now? i’d love to come by and observe,” the agent says, a long pause before she continues innocently, “your technique, i mean.”

at the bob of his adam’s apple, you forget your appetite for the tea you drink each morning, an awful feeling in your stomach that makes the environment much too hostile for the fragile butterflies that turn the dark color of the other side of your cliff, appearing much larger than it had seemed a few minutes before.

you blink fast while you walk away, sniffing away the embarrassing lump that warns you of the hot feeling of tears that will soon make your eyes shine in a completely different way. stupid, you berate yourself, everything. crying over a man, thinking he could ever—stupid.

you wipe at your nose angrily, too preoccupied with keeping the tears at bay to notice the room you’re entering contains your friends. wanda and nat’s attention is immediately on you when you walk into the room, eyebrows already furrowing when they notice something off about you. wanda can practically hear your inner turmoil while natasha can see it in your downcast face and wet eyes, clearly distracted. tony sees you’re upset easily, the years of knowing you are never more clear than when he recognizes each little indication that you’re upset.

you break out of your concentration when you hear your name being called, neck snapping up to meet the concerned faces of your friends. the little voice comes back to tell you how pathetic the noticeability of the fact you’re upset is—over the likely death of something you were sure was never going to happen anyway, so why were you so distraught?

the answer is staring at you in the face, poking your brain with a stick, but you refuse to acknowledge it, not when there are three people staring at you, almost as if just waiting for you to burst into tears.

“c’mon, y/n. what’s wrong?” natasha urges after you don’t answer her audibly the first time, instead opting for the more obvious not-okay option of a weak smile and a watery shrug.

“it’s stupid, it’s nothing,” you wave her off.

“somehow, i disagree.” nat says, searching your features for any specifics of what could be going on. you make your face as blank as you can, sure she could find exactly what was wrong if given enough time.

you begin to reassure her it’s nothing when a loud giggle surely belonging to the woman hanging off of steve’s arm in the next room over bounces off into the walls of the common room. you cringe without meaning to, the echo of steve’s voice following soon after.

natasha’s lips part as she realizes the cause of the glossiness of your eyes, elbowing wanda gently as if to let her know.

“is this about cap?” tony asks, catching on easily, “because i’m going to let you know right now that a man whose name is steven and grant is one who is not worth your effort.”

you laugh sadly, “not all of them are a rogers that open doors and steal snacks for you.”

“i knew it was him.” tony deadpans, shaking his head.

“even so, anyone who makes you shed them is not worth your tears,” wanda tells you, a sad smile on her face. you bite your lip, looking down, about to defend someone for a reason you’re sure is pitiful.

“maybe,” you settle on instead, exhaling a short breath, “i’m gonna go take a walk.”

wanda watches you go sadly, natasha and tony’s eyes trailing after you until you step outside of the compound, where you let your shoulders sag again and the disappointment fall over you in waves.

tony’s jaw clenches, “i’m going to freeze him for another century.”

natasha rolls her eyes, “all of my hard work down the drain over a recruit flirting with him. this is great, do i have to spell it out on their foreheads?”

“i wouldn’t blame you if you did,” tony sighs, looking at you as you walk away from he compound.

natasha seriously contemplates it as she marinates in her anger with tony, wanda chewing on her lip from their side as they try to figure something else out, distractedly cutting fruit that will inevitably be dumped into a bowl designated to her stress baking.

a few minutes later, the man of the hour himself strides into the common room, looking around when he enters.

“you,” tony groans, rolling his eyes. steve’s eyebrows join in confusion, stopping his wandering eyes to stare at tony in confusion, sighing.

“what now, tony? did i eat your cereal again? steal your cookies?”

“as a matter of fact,” tony lifts a finger, “yes to both of those things, but right now, you fucked up a lot more than that.”

steve just looks confused, about to ask a question before realizing there’s no point. he turns away from tony, continuing to look around, “where’s y/n? she said we’d watch movies together today.”

“she’s busy,” tony responds curtly.

“we’re watching her favorite one today, she seemed really excited,” steve continues, directed towards the girls.

“when’d you see that? before or after leading her on?” tony interjects again, and at his words, steve turns back to him again.

“what are you talking about?” steve finally asks.

“i’m sure they taught context clues a hundred years ago, tinker bell.”

“don’t play games, tony. not when y/n is involved.” steve warns. tony rolls his eyes again, about to bite back before steve continues. “and what the hell are you talking about?”

natasha interrupts before things can get too intense with the two of them, licking her lips as she shifts her crossed arms, “look, steve, it’s fine to flirt, you know i’ve been encouraging it for a while, and while i think it’s great you’re looking into your options, i really don’t think it’s great that you keep making y/n think you like her—which, i know you do, by the way. we all do—and then show interest in someone else immediately after. so either make what you feel for her clear to her or leave it alone, because you’re only hurting her.”

at the look of bewilderment on steve’s face, natasha straightens, “and don’t give me that ‘i-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about’ look because it’s bullshit and only makes me want to punch your face in. flirt with recruits all you want as long as you don’t keep stringing y/n along if it isn’t gonna happen, okay?”

“i’m not— stringing her along, and wasn’t—i wasn’t flirting, i mean, she flirted, but…” steve cuts himself off, realizing his words won’t do any fixing in a room where you weren’t, where only the people least likely to listen to him were. “where did she go?”

“she took a walk,” wanda offers, but stops him when he begins to walk towards the door you left through, “give her a minute, okay?”

steve hesitates with his hand at the knob, nodding as he lets himself out to pace.

blurred lights of all colors encompass the huge tree decorated in ornaments of different shapes and sizes. the green of the tree is nearly completely covered with the ostentatious baubles, and you can barely see the bright glow of the star sitting at the top of the tree where you’re standing, the cold metal of the railing hard underneath the arm that you lean against, but it doesn’t matter, the pretty lights are enough to leave you in a place where you feel calmer.

the rockefeller tree has always made you feel at peace. it doesn’t even have anything to do with christmas, just the sheer fact of it. standing next to it makes you feel so much smaller, your problems even smaller, more manageable, like their weight isn’t as heavy as it was in the compound. and, as childish as it may sound, the glitter of the lights leaves you too mesmerized to think about anything ele. it almost looks like stars in the sky if your city wasn’t too bright to see such an amount of stars. silly as it may be, you find yourself throwing stray wishes at the tree sometimes, ranging from simple ones asking for the chocolate bar you bought yesterday to still be on the counter when you got back to harder, more impossible ones. you’d even asked for tony to let you keep a dog in the compound once.

you aren’t sure when—or even if you ever told steve that about you, but he finds you at the forefront of the tree among the stray people surrounding it after nearly half an hour of being there. more people are beginning to file into the space surrounding it, the night arriving and gifting the lights that hang off the tree a blank canvas to be displayed on.

you’re in the middle of thinking about a wish when you feel a familiar presence behind you. you let your head tilt to the side, sighing softly, “steve?”

“how’d you know?” steve asks, stepping closer to you until he’s shoulder to shoulder with you.

“well, i’ve basically been trained to know when there’s someone watching me, and you have a particularly heavy presence.”

steve makes a little noise, and you finally turn to him, allowing him a view of your tinted eyes, the red of dried tears blatantly clear to him, screaming at him to suck it up and tell you before you realized you were too good for this.

“i wasn’t flirting,” comes out of his mouth instead, and he cringes at himself when he sees you nod with a sort of understanding look on your face. “lydia is very… pushy, and i wouldn’t—flirt with anyone.”

“why?” you ask, innocently tilting your chin in a way to try and hide your hope.

“because… uhh…”

“do you not want to date anyone yet?” you wonder, genuine concern in your tone at the implication he might be uncomfortable.

“no!” steve interjects, making you draw back, so he tries it again, softer this time, “no. i do, just, a very specific person.”

“who?” you question tentatively, holding back the gates of the oceans of pain at the thought of it being someone else and the hope that maybe you were right all along.

you barely realize that you’re staring at steve until he meets your eyes, gently blinking lights swimming in the glittering blue of his irises, pupils searching your face for something that you’ve held in your hands for so long, handed to him since forever and he’s cradled even without his notice.

warm hands settle on your cold cheeks, giving you an opportunity to slip out from his hold in case he was reading the entire thing wrong, but at the lack of a sign that you will, he gently pulls you closer, and your lips meet his in a burst of emotions, gates torn open with the movement of his lips against yours, the love that has been so clear and in front of you finally spelled out with the kiss that weakens your knees, leaving you standing only due to the thin space between the two of you.

you’re breathless when you pull away, your fingers suddenly trailing on his jaw, a thumb lightly pushing against a swollen petal of a lip. you sniffle, “so who is it?”

he laughs, kissing you again.

331 notes · View notes

captainrogers-ass · 3 years

Text

Leather & Spice - Zemo x Reader One-Shot

Summary: You could never say no to a mission when it was Sam Wilson calling, yet cooperating with a convicted mass murderer hadn’t exactly been what you were expecting. Wounding, maiming, killing; those were all in your job description. Acting as Helmut Zemo’s lover was not.

Word Count: 4900

Pairings: Zemo x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic), Bucky x Reader (platonic)

A/N: Ok so I know I’ve been super inactive and I know this isn’t strictly Chris Evans related but I’m currently obsessed with TFATWS; more specifically a certain mass murderer. I’ve substituted Serbian for Sokovian, although Zemo talks to Bucky in Russian. As always, any and all feedback is much appreciated. I hope you enjoy!!! Let me know if you want a part 2!!!

The call had been tense, brief, and widely lacking in any important information, and yet you had still gone anyway.

No matter how many times the Avengers had screwed you over you couldn’t help yourself when Sam Wilson called. Your resistance was futile. He was too charming to say no to, and you were pretty sure he was perfectly well aware of that.

The private jet had been a nice surprise in all honesty. Sam had seemingly always had a knack for finding the seediest alleyway or dingiest motel room to meet up in whenever he called for your help, so you couldn’t help but smile at the change in scenery. Your boots clicked loudly on the tarmac below as you approached the plane, your hand pausing as it connected with the railing of the stair car, a small smile escaping onto your lips as you tried to contain your unusual excitement.

A butler with greying hair and aged skin greeted you at the entrance to the plane. He was dressed in a neat, black suit and smiled at you kindly upon your arrival, his arms already extended as he motioned towards your luggage.

“Oh, thank you,” you said with a smile as you handed over your bag.

The cabin was lovely; spacious, lavish and filled with two grown men who were currently too enthralled in their escalating argument to take any notice of your arrival.

Bucky and Sam were sitting next to each other; Bucky slumped over within his seat with his arms folded across his chest, Sam perched at the edge of his own seat, his hands raised passionately before him as he berated Bucky in a tone that was clearly trying to stay relatively calm but was miserably failing. You cleared your throat as a small smile escaped onto your lips; these two hadn’t changed one bit.

Sam’s eyes met yours first.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, immediately rising from his seat and striding the few steps towards you, engulfing you in a hug. “I wasn’t sure, you’d come. I haven’t seen you in so long!”

You laughed as you managed to extract yourself from Sam’s embrace.

“You know I can never say no to you, Sam,” you chuckled.

“It’s because I’m too handsome, right?”

“Sure.”

You turned your attention to Bucky who was now standing just slightly back from Sam, their argument apparently forgotten as Bucky smiled kindly towards you.

“Hey there stranger,” you said as you gave Bucky a brief hug.

“And here I was thinking I was the most antisocial person I knew,” he retorted.

“I haven’t been avoiding you two, I promise. I’ve just been busy.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “With whatever it is you do.”

You laughed but didn’t answer his implied question.

“This jet is a nice touch. How in the hell did you afford this?” you questioned.

The atmosphere changed immediately, the smile on your features faltering slightly as you felt the tension rise around you. Bucky turned his eyes to the floor, his figure hunching over slightly so that he looked far smaller than he usually appeared. Sam averted his gaze as well, instead turning to look at something past your shoulder.

“It’s mine actually. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Having worked in secret services your entire life you found yourself quite shocked at having failed to notice the third man on board. There was no doubt that this man hadn’t been in the main cabin upon your arrival, but having failed to recognise his presence until he spoke was an unusual oversight on your part; especially since he was standing quite close to you.

As you turned around you registered three things before your eyes landed upon him. Firstly, his accent was unusual, captivating and alluring, not one that you could outright recognise on an initial introduction alone. Secondly, his cologne was extraordinarily enticing; a dark, spicy smell that washed over you and filled your senses all at once so that you couldn’t help but inhale deeply to try and get another whiff of it. And thirdly, his presence was remarkable. Even before you looked upon him you could tell that this was a man of wealth; his tone, his posture, his cologne, his everything, oozed sophistication.

And then your eyes met his.

“I’m Helm-”

Before he could finish you grabbed the hand he had been in the process of outstretching for a handshake, twisted it behind his back before shoving him up against the wall of the plane with quite possibly a tad more force than was strictly necessary. A grunt escaped his lips as you did so, but whether it was from pain or surprise you couldn’t tell.

“Y/N!” Bucky and Sam yelled in unison.

“Would someone care to explain to me why there is a convicted criminal on board this plane.” Your voice came out far calmer than you were expecting.

“Well it is my pla-”

“Shut up,” you, Bucky and Sam all said in unison.

You pushed his contorted arm higher and a flicker of pain crossed his features for just a second, yet he remained silent. His face was pressed against the wall, your body weight holding him in place, and yet his eyes were trained on you, a piercing blend of hazel and gold that sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t resisting at all—which was surprising considering he could probably overpower you with his military history—and he no longer made any obvious outward indication that he was in pain even though the placement of his arm would suggest otherwise.

“We need him, Y/N,” Sam finally spoke up.

You struggled to pull your gaze from his, lingering for what felt like years.

“And his life-long prison sentence just happened to be up, I suppose?” you replied.

You couldn’t quite tell, but the subtle vibrations coming from Zemo made you think that he was laughing.

“Well, Bucky was the one who actually broke him ou-” Sam began.

“Oh yeah blame it on me,” Bucky exclaimed.

“Were you not the one who broke him out?”

“You know we needed him I was just the-”

“Ok, ok, boys,” you interrupted. “I really don’t care whose fault it is. What’s done is done. But will someone please explain why the hell we need a mass murderer’s help?”

“Well, there’s this new terrorist organisation called the Flagsmashers,” Sam began.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Zemo interrupted. You pushed him up against the wall harder but he continued on unfazed. “But I feel like this story is going to take a while so is there any possibility that I can have the function of my arm back, please?”

There was that accent again, so unusual and yet so smooth that it took you a few seconds to actually register what the man was saying. You glared at him for several seconds but eventually loosened your grip.

Immediately turning around, Zemo brought his hand up to rub at the arm that had been angled uncomfortably behind his back, his gaze never leaving yours. Your eyes travelled down his figure, taking in the luxurious coat draped around his shoulders, the well-tailored purple turtleneck underneath that shaped his frame well, and the expensive-looking black gloves that clung to his fingers. When your eyes returned to his a smile was peeking through onto his lips.

“As I was saying before, I’m Helmut Zemo.” You noticed that he didn’t extend his hand a second time for a handshake. “But I take it you already knew that…Y/N, is it?”

You didn’t answer, simply continuing to stare at him through slitted eyelids.

“I would say it is a pleasure to meet you,” he began again, making his way over to a small bar cart as he poured himself a drink. “But it was actually a surprisingly painful introduction.”

Extending a gloved hand towards you Zemo offered you a glass of the brown liquid. With some hesitation you accepted, your eyes never leaving his as your hand brushed over his gloved one.

Tearing your gaze from his you made your way to the seat in front of where Sam and Bucky had been previously sitting. Taking a sip from your drink you motioned for the two men to reclaim their seats.

“So, tell me about these Flagsmashers.”

“If we have to do something about this, I’m the only one that looks like a pimp,” Sam commented, looking down to admire the colourfully decorated suit he was wearing.

The four of you were currently walking across an empty bridge, the lights of the bustling city burning bright in the distance.

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing; a sophisticated, charming, African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger,” Zemo replied, passing his phone to Sam, a photo lighting up the screen.

“He even has a bad nickname. Hell, he does look like me though.”

You walked closer to Sam, leaning over his shoulder to get a look at the picture. You laughed slightly to yourself.

“You sure you don’t have some alter ego you’re not telling us about?” you questioned.

“Ha, ha,” Sam responded dryly.

“So then who am I supposed to be?” you asked Zemo. “Some stunningly beautiful millionaire who also happens to look exactly like me, I presume?”

The sarcasm was obvious in your tone and yet you were still surprised at the small laugh that left Zemo’s lips. It was deep, dark, and didn’t last very long, but it was charming. You turned away from him and looped your arm through Sam’s instead, pretending to need assistance with walking from the six-inch heels Zemo had you wear.

The dress he had presented to you on the plane was surprisingly stunning. It was black and fell just above your ankles, a large slit running up the left side of the fabric and a cowling neckline that accentuated your figure perfectly. The back was low, the straps criss-crossing across your shoulders doing little to provide any solace from the evenings cold wind.

“In a sense I suppose that is correct,” Zemo responded. “You will be playing the role of my date.”

Your head whipped around to stare at him.

“Excuse me?”

Bucky and Sam tried in vain to hide their snickers. You punched Sam lightly in the arm.

“The Smiling Tiger, the Winter Soldier and I all have reputations that we can rely on here in Madripoor. Nobody knows who you are Y/N and that makes you the most valuable person here. By limiting you to just my date people will begin to underestimate you which makes you a valuable asset if things begin to go South.”

His words made sense and yet you refused to admit it.

“He’s not wrong, Y/N,” Sam whispered to you.

“I think if Bucky can pretend to be the Winter Soldier,” Zemo continued. “Then you will be perfectly capable of pretending to be my date.”

“No, I think Y/N still got the short straw here,” Bucky said, causing you and Sam to begin to snicker as a scowl appeared on Zemo’s face.

A black car began to approach you on the bridge, pulling up beside you. Just before you could open the door a gloved hand enclosed around the handle.

“Allow me, draga.”

He opened the door and motioned for you to enter. You met his gaze, raising an eyebrow up at him.

“I’m not your date just yet.”

“A lady should always be treated with respect whether she is one’s date or not.”

You hadn’t been expecting a response, yet he had provided one so quickly and with such sincerity in his voice that you couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows at him. Your gaze lingered upon his for several seconds before he provided you with a curt nod.

You entered the car without another word, Zemo following in behind you so that you were now sandwiched between him and Sam with Bucky sitting quite comfortably in the front seat.

The drive into town was mostly quiet. You enjoyed looking out the window at the bright city, mesmerised by all the neon signs and blinding lights. The streets were riddled with guns; hidden in holsters on people’s hips, tucked into the backs of pants, or simply waved around nonchalantly. You checked the holster attached to your thigh for good measure.

Glancing into the rear-view mirror you could have sworn that you had met Zemo’s gaze for a split second, but with a blink of your eyes his head was now directed out the window, his gaze fixated on the passing buildings. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but returned your gaze to the window once more without a word.

The streets were crawling with criminals when you reached the bar. Guns were being waved around as if they were a fashion accessory and blatant felonies were being conducted out in the open with no attempt to conceal anything.

Zemo exited the car first, and as you scooted across the seat to make your own exit you found that familiar gloved hand was already extended towards you. Looking up, your eyes met his, taking his hand without a word. You were now in character and you were going to play the role as best you could.

You didn’t let go of Zemo’s hand as he helped you from the car. Instead, after waiting for him to close the door behind you, you looped your arm through his as you had done to Sam only minutes previously, this time leaning into him much more closely than you had done with your friend.

If Zemo was surprised at your gentle touch he did not show it. Instead he flexed his arm to bring you slightly closer before leading you, Bucky and Sam into the bar. As soon as you had exited the car it seemed as if the whole street had their eyes on you. Your heart fluttered nervously in your chest, but your features remained neutral even as your eyes roamed freely around your surroundings.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” you whispered to Zemo. “But I think you should’ve given me something a bit more revealing to wear. This dress is beautiful, but I look so out of place.”

Zemo turned to you with a smile on his face.

“Any woman on my arm will always be dressed in the finest of silks. It would be far more suspicious if I made you wear a more revealing dress, trust me.”

His voice was low as he spoke to you, his gaze fixated on you as he smiled cheekily.

Your heart fluttered nervously once more.

The bar was loud, hot and filled with half-drunk people rubbing their private parts against each other. The popular neon lights trickled in to the establishment, casting contrasting shadows of yellow and red across the space.

A bartender greeted you as you approached the bar, his face stoic and void of emotion.

“Hello gentlemen,” he nodded towards Sam. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

Zemo answered for him.

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby.”

The bartender turned to Sam.

“The usual?”

Sam nodded.

When the bartender returned with a snake and began to gut it right in front of you you couldn’t help the small smile that crept up onto your face when you realised what was happening.

“Ah,” Zemo began, “Smiling Tiger, your favourite.”

His tone was slightly mocking and it nearly caused you to burst out laughing right there, but you managed to retain your composure. Sam turned with a resentful look on his face to see you and Zemo trying to hide the smiles that were creeping on to your faces.

“I love these,” Sam said as he raised the glass to you.

You leaned your head on to Zemo’s shoulder in an attempt to hide your snickers. Sam clinked his glass against Zemo’s, and after some hesitation, downed the shot in one.

The smile was wiped from your face as you felt a presence approach you from behind, struggling against the instinct to reach for your weapon. Zemo felt you still beside him and immediately turned to meet the approaching man, placing you slightly behind him.

“I got word from on high,” the man said. “You ain’t welcome here.”

Zemo’s voice sounded nonchalant as he responded.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists he can either come and talk to me,” Zemo looked behind him to where Bucky was standing.

“New haircut?” the man said to Bucky with a scoff.

Zemo’s voice was deep and demanding, grasping the man’s attention once more, “Or bring Selby for a chat.”

The man left but now your senses were on high alert as Zemo turned back to talk to Bucky. Your eyes scoured the room, noticing several men beginning to approach you. Slowly your hand began to travel down to your gun.

“Not yet, dušica.” Zemo’s gaze turned to Bucky just as one of the approaching men placed his hand upon Zemo’s shoulder. “Zimniy soldat. Ataka.”

Without hesitating Bucky grabbed the arm of the man who had touched Zemo, bending it painfully backwards. You watched on with bated breath, worried for your friend as he reverted back to what he once was, not because he wasn’t able to handle the fight—he wasn’t even breaking a sweat as he took on three guys at once—but because of what this little act might have on all the progress he had made.

Your gaze flickered to Zemo for a split second to find that he was smiling.

“It didn’t take long for him to fall back into form,” he whispered to you.

Ever since this trip had begun you had slowly started to become desensitised to the fact that you were in the presence of a mass murderer, often forgetting at times that the man before you had caused so much pain and suffering. But now it hit you all at once, causing you to become quite repulsed by the presence beside you.

Wanting to remove yourself from his side but knowing that you couldn’t you instead leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“If you smile again from Bucky’s pain, I’ll punch your teeth in so that when I burn you to death they won’t be able to use your dental records to identify your body.”

To say that Zemo was surprised at your comment was an understatement as he whipped his head around to look at you, his mask of composure forgotten for a split second as his eyes met yours. He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes told you that he had not been expecting such a response. His gaze fell to the floor and you thought, just for a second, that maybe he was about to apologise, but when his eyes came back to look at you his mouth remained closed.

He noticed the change in your attitude immediately. Whilst you did not disentangle your arm from his, you now distanced yourself as far as you could from his side, your touch no longer the comfortable presence he had begun to enjoy, now cold and impersonal.

The sounds of guns being cocked brought your attention back to the room.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us,” Zemo quickly whispered to Bucky. “Otlichnaya rabota, soldat,” he said louder.

Everyone in the bar paused as Bucky let go of the man he had been in the process of choking.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender interrupted.

A small sigh of relief escaped from your lips.

The back room was poorly lit and smelt of alcohol and cigarettes, the wall to your left illuminated by small televisions that displayed the security camera footage from all over the bar.

Selby—a middle aged, menacing looking woman with short, platinum blonde hair—was sitting upon one of the luxurious couches, dressed in an ill-fitting suit with a loosely tied tie hanging around her neck.

“You should know, Baron,” she began, tapping her hand against the head of the couch. “People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.”

“Not a demand,” Zemo responded. “An offer.”

Zemo took a seat on the couch opposite to Selby’s, his hand in yours as he motioned for you to sit next to him. You paused for just a second before perching yourself so that you were instead sitting in his lap. As much as you didn’t want to be in this position, when you went undercover you did it well. Zemo’s face showed no hint of surprise, but his hands fumbled for a split second, unsure of where to place them before he rested one on your waist and one on your thigh, quite high up so that he was basically at your knee. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed and you found yourself quite surprised at his willingness to respect your boundaries.

Selby raised an eyebrow at you.

“A lot has changed since you were last here,” she said, her gaze now fixated on you. It made you feel uncomfortable, but you didn’t show it as you leaned back into Zemo’s touch. “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

Zemo’s gloved hand began rubbing circles on your knee, your skin exposed from the slit in the dress. You were pretty sure he wasn’t aware he was doing it, but you weren’t altogether against the touch.

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

“What’s the offer.”

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum, and I give you him.” Zemo’s gaze turned to Bucky who remained stoic and impassive in the corner of the room. “Along with the code words to control him, of course.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately.” She paused as she considered the offer. “You were right to seek me out. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank…or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo questioned.

“Oh, the breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron.” Selby’s gaze shifted to Bucky before it returned to land on you. “Who is this beautiful creature you’ve got with you?”

You felt Zemo stiffen beneath you.

“Ah,” he began, his voice somehow having grown deeper. “This one isn’t part of the deal. She’s mine.”

There was an intensity to the way he said mine. It was subtle, but it was there, and Selby noticed it as she quirked an eyebrow up at him.

“Are you sure about that, Baron?” she responded with a laugh. “These young creatures get so restless. Are you sure she’s not bored with you already?”

Zemo’s hand was now gripping your thigh a lot lower than where it had previously been and a lot harder; not so roughly that it hurt, but hard enough for you to realise that he was unsure of how to proceed. You turned your gaze to Selby who licked her lips as your eyes met hers, before turning your attention back to Zemo. He looked up towards you, a confused look flashing across his eyes as he tried to figure out what you were about to do. Having made your decision—and before you had enough time to really question what you were about to do—you leaned down towards the Baron and collided your lips with his.

Zemo hesitated at first, his lips unresponsive against yours for a split second before he returned the gesture. His hands came up to tangle themselves in your hair, your own hands gripping the base of his scalp. You slipped your tongue into his mouth and turned slightly so that Selby had a clear view.

You made sure the kiss was dirty and ferocious, and it left both of you breathless as you pulled away from him.

You turned to Selby with a smirk on your face, wiping some saliva from the corner of your mouth with the pad of your thumb as you maintained eye-contact with her.

“Not quite yet,” you said.

A viscous smile spread across her face but before Selby could respond Sam’s phone began to ring, and everything went downhill pretty quickly from there.

When the sniper shot came through the window you didn’t have time to be surprised, immediately leaping to your feet, gun already in hand. Before Selby’s henchmen had even had time to react you had already shot a bullet into two of their chests, Bucky taking out the third man in the room.

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead,” Zemo said, quickly making his way back down to the bar with you, Sam and Bucky close behind, your gun back in its concealed holster.

Descending the stairs quickly, Bucky leaned back with a smirk on his face.

"Told you you got the short straw."

Punching him in the arm to try to get him to shut up you quickly realised your mistake as you brought your hand to your chest, pain flaring in your knuckles at having collided with the vibranium. A short laugh escaped from Bucky's lips.

"Focus," Zemo called from the front of the group.

You made your way back on to the street quickly, following Zemo as he hastily walked in a direction that you hoped would get you off the main strip. Looking around you as you walked you kept noticing people getting notifications on their phones and a bad feeling began to grow in your stomach.

A round of bullets were shot towards you, the proximity of the bang causing your ears to ring painfully. All four of you ducked immediately as you scrambled away quickly. Bucky and Sam ran forwards and Zemo, grabbing your hand swiftly, veered off into a small alley way, his hand never leaving yours as he ran. The sound of several footsteps followed close behind you, but before you could reach for your gun Zemo crowded you into a small alcove.

“What are you doing? They’ll see us here,” you angrily whispered. Your hand began to reach for your gun once more but Zemo stopped you.

“There’s too many of them,” he said quickly, peeking out from behind the alcove to spy on the approaching men.

“We’re sitting ducks here. I can probably get a few shots out if-”

All at once Zemo whipped back around and placed his index finger upon your lips to stop you from speaking.

“I’m truly sorry for this.”

For the second time that night Helmut Zemo’s lips were now upon yours, kissing you far more softly than you had kissed him before. His body was crowding yours against the wall of the alley way, his broad form easily shielding you. The footsteps got closer and closer, all the while you kept kissing the Baron. This time there was no tongue, just gentle lips upon yours as he kissed you tenderly and slowly.

That cologne you had first smelt that morning engulfed your senses now so that it was all you could smell. Your hands came up to grip at the fur collar of his coat, pulling him closer by the furred lapel, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the softness of it.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered the approaching footsteps; how close they came to you before they past right by, the group of men not giving you a second glance as one shouted orders to the rest in a language you couldn't be bothered to recognise.

At some point Zemo's tongue ended up in your mouth, or maybe it was your tongue in his. Either way you couldn't recall who had initiated it, and couldn't quite find the effort to care. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek whilst the other became entangled within your hair, pulling at your roots slightly so that you moaned at the feeling.

You moaned.

Pushing the baron away from you you immediately put as much distance as you could between the two of you. His lips were red and swollen and you were quite sure yours looked the same, both panting slightly as the cold air illuminated your breaths.

You could feel your cheeks begin to redden immediately, and swiftly turned away from him to hide your embarrassment.

You could still hear the men who had been following you, their footsteps far quieter now as they continued down the alley.

“I think they’re gone,” you finally said, having allowed the awkward silence to grow palpable between you.

“Yes…yes I think you’re right,” he responded, not meeting your gaze.

The sound of footsteps coming down the alley filled your ears once more, and this time you didn’t hesitate as you pulled your gun from its holster.

“Woah, easy there tiger, it’s just us,” Sam said, his hands held upwards in a sign of surrender.

You let out a sigh as you saw them and immediately felt Zemo’s gaze fall upon you.

#zemo x reader #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #daniel brühl #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #MCU

118 notes · View notes

shepherds-of-haven · 3 years

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Hello dear author, please give us some noble life lore: like "(chapter 6) she's wearing a different perfume from yesterday's [...] You wonder if it means anything, the way fans or colors do." well? does it mean anything? and if so, what do different scents mean? (like citrus-y and herbal in the chapter because lavi is ready to fight a bitch and get to work/investigating or...?) and colors if it's not too much ? thks!

Hi, thanks for your question! There's a lot to unpack about aristocratic culture in Blest, probably way too much for me to attempt it here... I'll try and talk about perfumes for now, though!

Flowers are extremely important to nobles, both in their color, type, and scent. Sending specific floral arrangements to people--be they friends, admirers, or enemies--can have extremely pointed messages. Wearing specific colored flowers can, too. This applies to perfumes and scents as well--the scent of jasmine means something very different from the scent of rose--but I'm not going to get into the absolute specifics today, just the general outline of things!

In the broadest sense:

Single Floral (perfumes and scents dominated by a single flower): these vary in meaning depending on the flower scent itself; for example, a jasmine scent might imply jealousy and the need to watch yourself, while gardenia in the afternoon is for tea (gardenia at night is intentionally confusing); lily of the valley means someone's out for blood, but this is rarely used because people don't like to advertise that feeling for maximum effect. :)

Floral Bouquet: this is the most common type of perfume for most, and heirs and heiresses can sometimes pay exorbitant amounts to develop signature blends and scents that allow people to identify them as individuals. (For example, Lady Summerfield, Lavinet's friend, is famous for her signature scent, the formula of which is a carefully-kept secret: no one even knows the perfumer who developed it. Connoisseurs have detected notes of posies, pears, rose, gardenia, and bergamot, but the exact composition is unknown.) These tend to be more identifying flavors than particular meanings or messages, but not always; and when they do have messages, they're obviously more multi-faceted and layered than the single flower perfumes.

Fruity: a fairly common subclass of scent, fruity smells tend to be mixed with floral scents and are almost always sweet. Depending on the fruit used as the head note, the meanings can vary. Sometimes there's a conveyance of coyness; other times it's a sweet innocence (such as visiting a suitor whose advances you're pretending not to notice as a subtle hope that they'll go away or understand the rejection--kind of like deliberate friendzoning?? like hey you might think this is a date but I think it's just an outing between friends!!); many times it's an invitation, whether romantic or sexual or platonic, depending on the situation and scent. Fruit scents are worn exclusively during the day.

Amber: these tends to be the scents around casinos and game parlors, consisting of notes such as ambergris, vanilla, incense, wood, and occasionally smoke. Amber scents are almost always connotations of wealth and power, and therefore are common to wear to business meetings and situations where rivals are present. Wearing amber scents to a meeting of friends is considered sort of strange and alienating, whereas wearing them to social occasions like parties can be seen as either boastful or attractive. Amber also tends to connotate luck.

Woody: these tend to be scents with head or heart notes such as sandalwood, cedarwood, vetiver, patchouli, and others. Woody scents and perfumes are not common among nobles around the Central Territories or the South, but become slightly more common the more North you go (still fairly rare). They're more common among the upper/upper-middle class, but when worn among nobles, they tend to give vibes of "I'm just chilling, let's be calm or leave me alone"--sort of like a submissive display, to indicate they're not looking for trouble.

Leather: these tend to be scents such as honey, tobacco, tar, wood, fire, or leather, and these can have a variety of meanings depending on the context. Sometimes it's like "I'm tryna fuck tonight and it's going to be nasty, dirty sex, not sweet romance" or it can be like "I'm out for blood" or even "stay farrr away from me if you're the one who pissed me off because I'll cut you". Leather scents are worn exclusively at night, and rarely.

Chypre: this is a hard class of scents to describe - these tend to be fresh citrus scents mingled with softer, darker notes like oakmoss, patchouli, musk, or bergamot?? A white tea sage or a green tea bergamot blend might be considered chypre. Chypre scents tend to be friendly but not necessarily as alluring or inviting as floral scents like rose. They may be worn to occasions like baby showers, birthday parties with close friends, or graduation events. Depending on the scent blend, though, they can also mean different things.

Herbal: these are sharper herbaceous scents than chypre, with scents like lavender, grass/moss, or coumarin (similar newly-hewn hay). There can also be citrus smells like orange or lemon, but herbal scents are generally considered "green." Herbal scents used to indicate a level of boldness or scrutiny (you would wear one while going to see Lady Isolde in her parlor, to indicate that you're either watching her or that you won't back down). Famously, an aristocrat wore an herbal scent called Brute to their trial, so it's become popular to wear the same scent to either proclaim innocence or unapologetically acknowledge fault (like "yeah I did that, and I'm not sorry about it!")

I will say that colors often do mean things to other aristocrats, whether in a fashion and aesthetic sense or as a message to others--like wearing a red dress or outfit after a breakup is a big "fuck you" to your ex while wearing anything with a yellow sash indicates "hey I'm respectfully not dating anyone for X amount of time out of respect for my ex but I am also interested in someone here and am totally down to pound if you're willing to wait"--but it also varies by region and local court culture, so there isn't a universal template there!

Thanks for your question!

#Shepherds of Haven #perfume #scent #scents #smell #smells #cologne #worldbuilding #fashion

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thestorytellersapprentice · 3 years

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Why Do-yeok

I cannot believe I'm writing another one of this "Why" post. I thought it's a one-time thing with Love Alarm... But, here I am. Maybe because just like the previously mentioned Netflix series, Nevertheless causes huge discourse among its viewers. Team Potato and Team Butterfly. Jae-eon and Do-hyeok. Sanctuary or the gravitational pull.

And first off, an important note: my intention by writing this is not to seek any debate with anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, so here's mine. Feel free to read it or definitely not to read it if you're firmly on Jae-eon's corner and you can't imagine Na-bi with anyone else but him. I just want to sort out my thoughts simultaneously through writing this. And this is gonna be a bit long, I suppose.

So, as the title already declares, I'm Team Potato all the way. And, yep, this means I'm thoroughly on Do-hyeok's side and I want him to be happy because he deserves it. (Still need to see what's in store in the final episode, but I'm perfectly okay with an open ending: Na-bi ends up not choosing anyone but herself, as long as her friendship with Do-hyeok remains intact.)

And this comes down simply because of who Yang Do-hyeok is as a person.

If Do-hyeok is real, then you can bet that I'll date him myself too. At the very least, I'd definitely like to be friends with him.

Why?

Because....

One. His whole vibe is just so....warm and comfortable. We often see Do-hyeok's cheerful sides. He smiles a lot (and boy, Chae Jong-hyeop's smiles are just so endearing, but we're talking about the character here. Ahem.) He's attentive, thoughtful, and open. And he's not only like this with Na-bi. He, by nature, is a very friendly person, as you can see from his interaction with Do-yeon, his cousin, also with Na-bi's friends and the hyeongs in the noodle restaurant that he works at.

And I like it a lot that even just after Do-hyeok confesses to Na-bi and she turns him down, the very next day, they're able to speak with each other normally and just talk about his videos and how she'll watch them and give him feedback. That night, Na-bi also answers his call with a smile on her face. They joke around and not even stopping after Do-hyeok throws her some arguably-cringey-lines (if uttered by other guys and not handled properly). Clearly, Na-bi's very on ease and comfortable with and around him despite everything that has happened.

She even says this on her own: "And most of all, I feel comfortable when I'm with him."

Two. With Do-hyeok, the communication is sterling. Honesty and communication is also very important in a healthy relationship. Your partner isn't a mind reader, so you gotta tell her/him what you feel and think about, especially when you're having a hard time, so you both can work on it together. And our potato guy is the perfect example of openness and honesty.

Even when he's having a hard time, he doesn't lash out (unlike a certain someone), but he communicates it clearly to Na-bi: "I saw you and Park Jae-eon going into your house together. I know I said that I could wait for you as long as it takes. But I felt so jealous."

Do-hyeok also casually throwing lines like: "It's nice to hear your voice. The whole neighborhood seems empty without you." which can be really cringey, but hearing these with Chae Jong-hyeop's delivery = it's just Do-hyeok openly sharing his thoughts. And, again, he's not just like this with Na-bi. That's just the way he is. He openly states his concerns and thoughts to people close to him.

After her first disaster relationship and Jae-eon (who's a master deflector on all personal questions and is truly opaque), IMO someone like Do-hyeok is what Na-bi needs. With Do-hyeok, she never has to guess where she stands. And Na-bi responds to his openness accordingly. She shares her worries and not-so-good moments ("I was spacing out because the critique went badly. I got scolded. This semester is really the worst. I didn't get accepted to the exchange program as well.") And of course, Do-hyeok responds by reassuring and encouraging her.

Three. They begin as friends. Childhood friends, even. And while some may point out that she friend-zones him, I beg to differ. The expression on Na-bi's face when she first sees Do-yeon and hasn't recognizes her is not the expression of someone who sees her just-platonic-friend conversing with a girl. You can practically see the gears in her head turning and she suddenly looks unsure: "Who is that girl talking to Do-hyeok?"

But anyway, iIluminatedquill has written here and here what I want to say and more, so I won't add any more here, other than this: it's my own personal preference as well. I'm just more drawn to romantic relationships which also evolve from friendship. I feel that lust will only get you so far, and the companionship aspect is what makes it long-lasting. (Even in my personal life, my boyfriend is not only my boyfie, he's my friend and partner in crime also.)

Four. Do-hyeok has good and normal relationships with his family. He obviously has good relationship with his Grandpa (judging from the way he's reviving his Grandpa's noodle place until his Grandpa feels better) and is close with his cousin, Do-yeon. While this is based on what's been shown and even though we never see or hear about his parents, I think it's safe to say that Do-hyeok most probably grows up in a loving family and he carries their values with him as he approaches his relationships with people as an adult.

Again, this is mostly personal preference, but as someone who highly value family, for me this is another point for Do-hyeok. I'm not saying that someone with dysfunctional family cannot form loving relationships, but it's what one aspires for.

Do-hyeok cares for people. He takes care of them (e.g. voicing concerns over Do-yeon's plastered hand, preparing umbrella and coffee for Na-bi, etc etc). And, sadly, Jae-eon's distant family background just makes him even more detached and non-committal towards people.

As for Na-bi, she wants to learn from her mother and not following in her footsteps. "I promise myself I would never date while watching my mom." It's heavily implied (and is practically confirmed by her aunt) that her mother dates around as well, and from the one scene we're shown during her birthday weekend, she always feels like her mother neglects her and she's upset about it. So, yeah, Na-bi wants to live differently, and it's clear who's a natural at it already.

Five. I can see them growing together. Yeah, Na-bi's mostly the one who needs to sort out her life, but she also can be a good influence to Do-hyeok. She gives him feedback on his videos (as an example) and he builds upon that.

From Na-bi herself: "I don't want to ever disappoint Do-hyeok." She sees him as such a good guy and always receives things from him. I interpret her line here as her desire to improve herself, to be better. And that's how a good relationship should be, right? It brings out the best out of each other.

That's it from me for now.

I guess some of the points up there can be different priorities for different people, and that's okay. As I've said at the beginning of this post, this is all mine, so feel free to disagree.

To me, Jae-eon is like this very strong gravitational pull: he's sexy, mysterious and very alluring, yet he displays oh-so-many red flags. It's all such a rollercoaster ride with him: very fun and thrilling, yet can also cause you extreme dread.

While Do-hyeok is like a sanctuary. He represents safety, stability and ease. With him, it's like strolling on a park somewhere under the sunshine: things feel warm, pleasant, and cozy.

Na-bi probably still feels the gravitational force of Jae-eon. It's hard to shake off completely on such a short span of time, but I hope she remembers that just like her namesake, she always have her own strength to fly and defy gravity.

#jtbc nevertheless #team potato boy ofc #yang do hyeok #yu na bi #chae jong hyeop #han so hee #just my thoughts ahead of the finale #drama please don't disappoint me!

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fell-in-love-didnt-you · 4 years

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Carry Me Away With You: SnowBaz Fanfic

Simon Snow doesn't expect much from life. His father has drilled into him from the beginning two things: work alone and never trust vampires. Simon breaks both rules in a matter of days. After he collapses at the doorstop of an unknown house, he's pulled into a world he has no idea how to escape from. The question is: does he want to?

...

AH! This is my Carry On Big Bang 2020 fic. I'm so excited to have finally posted it. It also comes with AMAZING artwork by the extremely talented @thehoneyedhufflepuff on tumblr (who's also a fantastic writer on Ao3 with the @ The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff - I'd definitely recommend the Fire-verse fics). Please, please, PLEASE show them some love both on here and tumblr. The artwork is magnificent and exactly as I envisioned Simon and Baz in this time period. (scene from fic) (title scene-isn't is beautiful?!)

Here’s the link to the tumblr post!

Thank you @carry-on-big-bang for giving me the opportunity to work with such an amazing artist and fellow fic writer and for putting on such a wonderful collaboration project. I have truly enjoyed every interaction I had with @thehoneyedhufflepuff and encourage everyone reading this to go give them a follow and read their amazing work on Ao3.

As always, here’s the link to the Ao3 version in case you prefer to read that way: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150491/chapters/63625177

On to the fic!

Lover.

The word felt foreign on Simon’s tongue, like a heavy alcohol or a long-rusted coin that played on the tip of the tongue. There was nothing else, though. ‘Fling’ felt like a small blanket: it covered the important parts (the lovemaking, the flirtatious smiles, the sharing of a bed), but it also left out the parts that made Simon’s legs turn to jelly (the deep conversations, the sweet cheek kisses, the touches that lingered for hours afterwards).

Partner, however, did not fit either. Partner implied official courting, and this…was not that. Official courting entailed walks in the park with a supervisor, love letters sent in perfumed envelopes, and an eventual proposal of marriage.

It did not entail laying bed together with only centimeters of space between, breaths mingled in the shared space. It certainly did not entail what had occurred a mere half-hour before now. ‘Partners’ did not entail premarital relations, and those relations certainly did not occur between a supernatural creature of nightmares and a boy raised to kill such creatures.

Simon placed his hand tentatively on the side of Baz’s face. His eyes were closed, but Simon knew better; sharing a bed for the past month had taught him when Baz was truly gone to the world. The pounding pulse point and flickering of eyes gave the vampire away. He was resting, but not out.

“Darling,” Baz drawled, and it made Simon flush (not that he wasn’t already red from head-to-toe; Baz had that effect on him). Baz’s eyes cracked open, and he flashed a smile that forced Simon to see what made vampires so alluring to the regular eye. “Darling, do you have any idea what time it is?”

A laugh bubbled out of Simon’s chest, and he looked past Baz’s head to stare at the grandfather clock that stood ominously in the corner of the room. It was one of Simon’s favorite objects: dark blue, a sun and moon facing opposite each other, stars sliding past as did the hours of the day. Baz had bought it for him a mere three months ago, placing it in their shared chambers so Simon knew the time.

Baz was weird like in the sense that there were no clocks beside this in the manor. Time is cyclical, he had explained to Simon once. He hated it because it reminded him that of what he was: stuck moving forward in his mind while his body remained in the past. Simon progressed forward, though, and he had been adamant about having at least one way of telling time. He’d even withheld himself from Baz until the vampire had conceded, a glare on his face the entire time.

Simon often stared at that clock as they made love.

The clock read slightly past two in the morning, and Simon told Baz as such. Baz hummed in response and placed his hand on Simon’s neck, thumbing a mole that rested above his pulse point. Often, that mole would have a ring of purpled bruises around it after nights like this, and the very thought had Simon suppressing a smile. Baz, however, did not conceal his affection, and he placed a long, slow kiss to Simon’s lips.

Simon had long ago (give or take three months) begun to categorize the kisses they shared. The most common were the ones shared in private that would have the public outraged: brushes of lips against cheeks and foreheads even though they were not married. What a scandal, Simon thought distantly. Those kisses occurred in passing when one of them would be running to the study or just about to leave the house for some reason or another. Simon adored these brushes of affection that had no real bite; it meant whatever this thing that was happening was more than sex.

Simon ached for the bruising crush of lips that occurred when they fell into bed. He yearned for the swelling of lips and clashing of teeth and maybe the accidental cut of a fang-on-lip. Even the tiniest bit of venom would set his body aflame, and Simon likened it to the fever, only where Death had touched him before, Baz now did.

The ones Simon treasured above all others were these kisses: no heat, no bite, but also not something entirely platonic. A feather-light kiss on the cheek could be taken romantically if it were between a man and a woman, but Simon knew that, if ever caught, Baz would claim brotherly affection for Simon, explain that that’s how his Parisian family acted, that physical affection was common between two friends. These kisses, on the other hand, would have them thrown in jail. Simon would be forced to flee over the crime of homosexuality, and Baz would pay his way out of a scandal.

There was no denying that these kisses that occurred in this bed were of the utmost romantic quality and kind and would put many husbands and wives to shame.

Baz drew back and smiled, his eyes still pleasantly closed. He sighed through his nose, and Simon allowed himself to steal a glance. This was so new, and he was afraid that one wrong look would shatter the beautiful bubble he’d surrounded himself in. Baz had probably done this with many people before. He was…older. That’s all Simon knew. There was no discernable year or century to pin him down in, but Simon realized months ago that Baz had seen the sun rise on this Earth possibly over one-hundred-thousand times.

Baz had probably been in love before. The thought made Simon blue. Baz was his first everything; Simon was Baz’s first nothing.

It is probably love, Simon thought as Baz slowly peeled his eyes opened. There was no explanation other than a spell of sorts (not like a witch’s spell, but like a spell of sickness) that Baz’s vampiric charm had placed Simon under. His father used to warn him that vampires were excellent charmers and that the only way to save oneself from their grasp was to remain alert at all times.

Simon’s father would be rolling in his premature grave right about now.

The sheets shifted between Simon’s legs as he pressed closer to the lukewarm body across from him. Baz never ran hot; his skin was usually cold to the touch. Nights like these, however, coerced the little blood in Baz’s body to rise to the surface, turn him a color like the living, and make him vampirically burn up (though vampirically burning up meant room temperature for humans).

Baz pressed his lips into the mop of curls atop Simon’s head and breathed in deeply. His arms came to wrap around Simon’s back, and his hands splayed across Simon’s shoulder blades. He said something, though it was muffled by Simon’s hair.

“Hm?” Simon asked, turning his face upward to look directly at Baz. He pushed the raven hair out of Baz’s eyes. “What did you say?”

Baz subconsciously turned his cheek into Simon’s touch, and Simon bit at his lip to keep in a smile. “I said,” Baz murmured, turning back to Simon, “that we are spending Christmas in the Surrey House this year. I forgot to tell you this morning.”

Simon giggled at that, and Baz lightly slapped his side. Of course Baz had forgotten to say that this morning; other…happenings had occurred. Simon had also giggled because calling it the Surrey House put the building to shame. In Dorking, the manor (as it should be called) sat on acres of sprawling land that included part of a natural river, a small section of local woods, and a large field. Baz’s family’s business was still a mystery to Simon, but he at least knew how Baz made his money. Wine was apparently very expensive in large quantities, and the cellar of the manor could hold the worth of an entire village.

The manor itself was no laughing matter. Crafted with the finest cobblestone, it had stayed in Baz’s family for centuries, and even with what little Simon actually knew of Baz’s family, the amount of rooms in all the property Baz inherited gave away enough to know that many children had been born. Because Baz was the eldest (cue laughter) and had lived the longest (cue even more laughter), all the property had been passed to him.

And now Simon reveled in it. The large London townhouse they occupied for the majority of the year was Simon’s favorite. The memories here were richer than any fine chocolate or wine that Baz could procure.

“Why can’t we spend Christmas here?” Simon asked quietly, his fingers idly playing with the long strands of Baz’s hair. “We’ve never just stayed-“ Simon stopped himself prematurely. He wanted to say ‘home’ but couldn’t let that word slip from his mouth. He’d stayed with Baz in this house for almost three years, and he’d never left to live elsewhere, but the word ‘home’ insinuated something Simon would not admit to himself. He started again: “We’ve never had Christmas here.”

Goosepimples raised on his arms as Baz’s hands drew nonsensical lines across his back. Baz lowered his head down, and his lips were pressed against Simon’s forehead as he explained, “We’ve never done a lot of things, darling.” The pet name caused Simon to blush and stutter, and he could feel Baz’s smile against forehead. “We always spent Christmases in our other properties when I was little.”

Simon thought about that for a moment. He did not have very memorable Christmases growing up. His greatest gift as a child had been a stocking with three ripe oranges in it. Simon had known the money his father had sacrificed to buy such fruit. With Baz, however…he’d never had such wonderful gifts in his entire life, and they hadn’t even been given to him for celebrations.

Simon recalled one morning where he’d complained of his weathering shoes, and not even four hours later, Baz had presented him with the nicest pair of leather boots he’d ever seen. Sure, they were not to be worn in public (Simon had received an entire outfit from Baz’s…sister? ...for going out in), but they were gorgeous and, no doubt, expensive.

Then there was the jewelry - the gorgeous amethyst ring that sat on the bedside table had been a birthday present last year. In truth, Simon had not expected anything from Baz in any capacity when they’d decided he could stay in the house for an indefinite amount of time. He’d not expected that, in the middle of the hottest summer in a long time, Baz would nonchalantly pass him the most expensive thing Simon had ever set eyes on and insist he keep it. He’d not expected Baz to tell him it was an heirloom dating back at least one-hundred years, and he’d not expected to later cradle it to his chest and cry.

As if to add to their conversation about Christmas, Simon looked over towards the window and saw snow falling outside. The snow had been coming down steadily over the last few months, but it had only begun to stick recently. He smiled to himself as he watched the windowsill become more and more covered. Snow had brought him here in the first place; it was only natural he be thankful for it now.

…

He was almost dead; that Simon Snow was sure of.

He could not feel his toes, and the crystalline breath puffing out from his mouth was becoming smaller by the minute. He was dizzy, hungry, and more tired than he’d even been in his short life. A cut on his forehead trickled blood into the snow beneath his feet, and he barely had time to register why or where he was bleeding before he fell onto the pavement beneath him.

Thank Christ he was in an alleyway. Had he been in the street, feet would have stepped over and onto him, and he might crack a rib. Although, Simon thought to himself, this was a fate worse than death. Perhaps he should let the Lord have Their way with him. If this was to be his death, then why not welcome it?

Simon could not go home. His father would never accept a defeat like this. Simon could practically hear the frustration that would be present if he tried to make his way back to their little house on the outskirts of town. How was it that Simon had been out hunting vampires for three months and not caught a single one? How was it that Simon had left a strong, capable, young man with fervor in his eyes and returned a skeleton of his former self?

The truth was simple: Simon was very nearly dead. He knew he’d caught the scarlet fever, and Simon also knew it would kill him like it had killed thousands of other.

Simon dragged himself to his feet and rounded out of the alleyway, turning onto a dimly lit street lined with houses. This is not such a bad place to die, he thought to himself. Maybe no one would pilfer his body for the money that did not exist or the jewelry that was absent. Perhaps he’d retain some dignity in his death.

Simon stumbled barely two meters in front of himself before he fell down against the door of a nice house. He could feel the warmth through the door. It was almost sad to die on such a lovely doorstep. Telling by the clickity-clack of footsteps from behind the door, he’d probably disturbed the lady of the house. Somehow, Simon could not find it in himself to care as he slid into what must be death.

But it was not death. Indeed, Simon had lapsed into a comatose state, but he awoke to the sounds of a plate clattering onto a table. The room was warm, and when Simon tried to move his hands, he found himself between a lovely down comforter and an even lovelier mattress. A fire burned brightly in the corner of the room, and he watched as a silhouette of a man moved in front of the flame.

“Am I dead?” Simon asked, his voice hardly above a whisper.

The man laughed, and he sat down beside the bed. His face came into view, and Simon saw the most beautiful person God had ever created. Then the beautiful man brought a cool washcloth down on Simon’s forehead, and Simon then realized how much he was burning up.

“Lord above, no,” the man answered. His touch was gentle across Simon’s aching head, and he placed the towel down a moment later to instead bring a glass of water to Simon’s lips. Simon arched into it, and a pained noise escaped his lips as the water slid down his throat. When was the last time he’d had water? Did brown snow count?

After the glass was drained, Simon began to take in his surroundings. The room looked to be one of a rich man: the walls were lined in beautiful wallpaper, plush rugs were laid down across the wood floor, and the size of the room was larger than the house Simon had grown up in. The man wore a waistcoat with a gold pocket watch, and his hair was swept back neatly from his face, though a piece was falling into his eyes. Could Simon even call him a man? Upon further inspection, he could not be older than his mid-twenties, and even that was a stretch. There were no wrinkles or stress lines, and his eyes held a kind light.

“Are we,” Simon started, his voice cracking on the second word. A second glass of cold water was placed to his lips, and Simon began again. “Are we sure I am not dead?”

The man smiled. “Who are you?” he asked, brushing back matted curls from Simon’s head. Simon internally hoped he did not look too worse for wear. “How did you come to be on the streets?” the man continued.

Simon did not know how to answer that. His name would be a good place to start, though he wouldn’t give his full name. “I am Simon.”

…

The packing for the Surrey manor proved to be more difficult for Simon than he’d originally anticipated. They’d be gone for the second half of December and a little into January, and the capacity of Simon’s suitcase was being tested to the highest degree because of his coats (courtesy of Baz’s…sister?). Baz had not said to pack lightly, but Simon didn’t like the idea of bogging down the carriage with an extra suitcase. Plus, Baz had already sent ahead a few trunks of clothes and other things to the manor earlier in the week.

Speaking of the devil, Simon nearly leapt out of his skin as cool arms surrounded his middle. Of course, there was no need to be frightened. Simon had long since been used to both the temperature of Baz’s skin and Baz’s ability to be deathly silent.

Baz’s chapped lips brushed against the nape of Simon’s neck, and he pressed a chaste kiss there. “Packing?” he asked, as though he did not see the myriad of clothing strewn about the room. The wardrobe was open haphazardly, revealing Simon’s messy side. He never put away his clothes with care like Baz did. They were clothes. Why did they deserve such high care?

Simon placed his arms over Baz’s and leaned into the embrace, closing his eyes and resting his head atop Baz’s shoulder. The fact that Baz was a behemoth had once bothered Simon, but now it made lounging together easier. Simon could always fit his head neatly onto Baz’s shoulder, and Baz’s hands fit perfectly in the dip of Simon’s lower back.

“Unsuccessfully,” Simon replied, sighing through his nose. “If we were not going for so long, I would not require so much clothing.” Baz chuckled behind him, and Simon smiled to the ceiling. He ran his hands idly over Baz’s exposed forearms. Today, Baz had stayed inside the house and, therefore, had not changed into any outerwear or even bothered to keep his long sleeves down to his wrists. Truly, it was a state of undress Simon had never expected of the wine merchant to be capable of. Simon had expected the ‘young’ business tycoon to always be dressed in a matching frock and waistcoat and buttoned up to the nines, but formalities had long since disappeared between them.

“Is there also business to attend to in Surrey?” Simon wondered aloud, pulling himself away from Baz and turning in his embrace. When they were this close, Simon had to tip his head up to look Baz in the eye. Baz nodded, and Simon sighed. Work plagued the both of them.

“Not on Christmas,” Baz reassured, bringing up a hand to tip Simon’s chin up. “Not in the whole week before or after Christmas. I cleared all of it for us.”

Us. The word made Simon swallow thickly. He nodded, walking away from the warmth of Baz’s hold (that he got from Simon’s body heat) and rummaging through the wardrobe. Simon heard Baz sigh, and after a few moments of silence, he assumed Baz had left. However, a whisper only a hair’s width away surprised him.

“Pack what I brought you from France,” Baz whispered, pressing another chaste kiss to that mole on Simon’s neck. Then he was gone.

A furious blush ravaged Simon’s cheeks, and he needed a few moments to steady himself. France. Baz’s purchase in France. That trip alone turned Simon’s internal temperature up a few notches. It seemed like ages ago, but it had really only been two months since France. The French had strange ideas of erotica, and Baz had seemed to be in line with all of them. Pack what I bought you from France. Christ, Simon hadn’t looked at it since France for a reason. It embarrassed him, and the fact that he liked that embarrassment made him even redder.

Simon opened a small (locked) drawer on his side of the wardrobe meant for expensive jewelry and priceless cufflinks and pins, and he pulled out what Baz had bought him in France.

…

The paperwork piled nearly a meter high from the floor. Baz entrusted the various receipts, warehouse reports, and paperwork tracking of the wine to Simon. Officially, Simon was brought into Baz’s household to deal with the paperwork that accumulated at the end of each month. Unofficially, Simon had been brought into the house to die.

Simon admitted to himself that this was a much better outcome. When he’d fallen against the door five months ago, who could have known he’d end up with a well-paying job? So well-paying, in fact, that Simon was able to send lumpsums of money back to his father under the pretense that it was payment for hired slayings. His father was none the wiser as to the actual situation of Simon’s employment.

As Simon crossed some ‘t’s and dotted some ‘i’s, his thoughts ran to Baz. They had been doing that more often as of late, and while Simon had once been able to pin it down on acquainting himself with his employer (friend), he could no longer fall under that umbrella. The thoughts (once just about the upkeep of Baz’s hair and the price of his clothing) now turned to running his hands through that hair and peeling away that expensive clothing until it lay on the floor beneath them.

Simon cleared his throat and refocused on the task ahead. He’d lost track of a sentence concerning a shipment of sherry to a port in Boston. As Simon read about a spilled barrel, a hand on his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts.

Baz’s chuckle reassured Simon, and he looked up from the candlelit paperwork ahead of him. The stack on the floor had to be completed and filed within the week. An entire day of Simon sitting at the desk had already elapsed, and he could guess why Baz had entered this small study that had been given to him.

“Have I missed supper?” Simon asked, looking back at the death certificate of the sherry. Baz’s hand lingered a moment longer before falling away, and Simon missed the cool touch through his thin shirt.

Baz came to lean over him and stare at the document in front of Simon. “No,” he replied, his breath ghosting over the shell of Simon’s ear. Simon’s eyes flicked to the side, and he was met with a Baz deep in thought. “I’ll have to speak to my Boston warehouse manager. Sherry is too expensive to be wasted.” Baz turned to look at Simon, and the close proximity of their lips had Simon’s face heating up. Hopefully the candlelight covered the flush of Simon’s neck and face.

Simon turned away and pulled a separate document out, and responded, “You were compensated with the price of a barrel and a half for the ruined barrel.” He pointed to the line in question where the price was brought up, and Baz hummed noncommittedly in his ear.

Very suddenly Baz was standing behind Simon, and Simon floundered to turn in his chair and face him. Baz was still deep in thought, though Simon couldn’t imagine why. Sherry was not Baz’s largest exports if the receipts were to be believed, and even if it was, why would it give him such a headache? A single barrel in six months was nothing compared to what some other merchants lost in a single day.

“Something on your mind?” Simon asked. Baz’s eyes slowly ghosted over to Simon, and Simon had the distinct feeling of being seen but in a distant sort. Like Baz had recognized a version of Simon that existed before and was instead remembering that Simon.

After a moment of silence, Baz regained composure and smiled. His canines flickered in the light, and Simon fought the urge to cover his neck. Of course, there was no reason for alarm. Growing up with his father, however, left some stones Simon was willing to leave unturned, at least where it concerned Baz.

Who was not a creature of evil.

“We should eat,” Baz suggested, looking towards the door of the study. “It should be about time.” As if on cue, the bell signaling supper rang, and Baz smiled again. “Join me?” he asked, as though Simon could deny.

Simon had picked up on the habits of his employer (friend) in the first few weeks of living together, but they seemed to become stranger as time went on. Baz hardly ate, and when he did, it was only a few bites. Most of his diet (in front of Simon, at least) consisted of wines and cheeses. No substantial food ever made its way into Baz in front of Simon. That was not to say that Baz could not eat sometimes later when Simon was not around, but it made no sense to Simon that Baz would invite him to eat in the dining room only to actually eat later.

Unless…

Simon shook the thought from his head, and it was soon replaced with images of a rather biblical sense.

…

The Surrey manor was alive and bustling when they arrived. The snow had nearly postponed the trip, but it had let up in time for the carriage to safely carry Baz and Simon to the manor. The Surrey manor had more servants than their normal lodgings did, and when Simon had first asked why years ago, Baz had not answered.

Simon partially knew why now. The part he knew was that Baz kept his more expensive wines in the cellars beneath the manor. That answer used to satisfy Simon, but now it caused him to wonder more and more. They had promised honesty once after Baz’s nature had been revealed. The promise had been broken only once, and it had been by Simon, so he didn’t have a right to question Baz’s extra patrolling of this particular property.

The trunks were carried to the room by two men Simon had met briefly last year at the manor, and then Baz was swept away into work. Tonight, a key investor was scheduled to dine with Baz, and while Baz hadn’t directly said it, Simon was to remain scarce throughout the night. At least he’d brought a few packets of paperwork that needed doing.

The room he’d previously occupied here was locked, and a servant instead directed Simon to a room he knew Baz had occupied the last time they were here. The bed, while not as comfortable as the one back in London, welcomed Simon comfortably, and he laid down to rest for a few moments. As it often happened when Simon was left alone with his thoughts, they turned to Baz. The investor coming over tonight both invested in and bought the most wine from Baz. That was the only reason Simon had to be scarce tonight. Usually, Baz showboated him until Simon’s feet grew tired, but with the higherups, a previous street boy who did the paperwork usually set them on edge. How could they trust their money with a boy of no more than twenty-one who only knew basic economics and had not studied traditionally a day in his life?

A soft knock at the door had Simon sitting up, and a servant walked in carrying a tray of supper. Simon then noticed the lighting had changed significantly and realized he had fallen asleep while thinking about wine investors. He thanked the servant and ate in silence, staring around the room. An ornate, golden clock stood in the corner, and Simon laughed quietly. A floor length mirror occupied another corner, and a dark wood wardrobe already filled with their clothing sat against the wall. Overall, it was a plain room in comparison to their normal lodgings, but Simon felt the hints of Baz in the room. The comforter was a deep, wine red, and the bedframe was made of cherry wood. Ornate carvings decorated the tops of the posters of the bed.

The Surrey manor deserved to be a real home, Simon thought. He and Baz used it for maybe a month out of an entire year, and it sat empty for the rest of the time. About every two weeks, Baz would send a few servants to tidy the place, but other than that, these two weeks were the longest anyone lived here. Simon had to wonder if this had once been Baz’s childhood home. It was simply too large and too grand for it to be a getaway or a vacation home. The location was optimal, the plot of land was supreme, and the aura exuded warmth. This had to have been something to Baz. Otherwise, he’d have sold the property long before Simon came into the picture.

A servant came to collect his plates, and Simon was once again left in silence. The bustle of London - people shouting, carts rolling by, factories churning - usually lulled Simon and comforted his always anxious mind. Now, there was only the occasional laugh from downstairs and the chirping of a bird here and there. The silence chilled him to the bone.

Simon set to work on the stack of papers before him, deciding that the scratching of pen on paper would soothe his weary soul. The monotonous chore that was paperwork left Simon feeling purposeful. If Baz trusted him enough with finances, then he would do a damn good job at it. Of course, this was a far cry from what his father would have wanted.

Simon’s mind often turned to his father these days. If Simon remembered the date correctly, his father’s birthday had just passed. They’d never celebrated when Simon lived with him; there was too much training and prepping to be done. At the end of the night, maybe his father would allow Simon to have a sip of port, but that had happened perhaps three times over the years. Celebrations just were not important when there were vampires to hunt and kill. His father had instilled the idea that vampires were virgin defilers into Simon’s mind, and while true for the situation between Baz and himself, Simon had come to realize that most vampires simply wanted to be left alone.

His vampire just so happened to want the opposite of that. A hand at the back of his neck caused Simon to nearly spill his inkpot, and perhaps doing paperwork on the bed was stupid. Baz laughed as Simon carefully closed the inkpot, placed the wet paperwork on the bedside table, did away with the pen, and finally looked up.

Baz’s tense face seemed alight when he looked down at Simon, and Simon smiled as he rose up on his knees. The mattress only added to their already obvious height difference. Simon came to rest at Baz’s shoulders, his knees sinking into the duvet. He did not mind, however, as it was the perfect height for him to place his hands atop Baz’s shoulders and rub. The muscles there seemed knotted with stress, and Simon sighed.

“Are you ever not wound up like a clock?” Simon asked, dragging Baz onto the mattress. As tonight’s outfit included a three-piece suit, the act of stripping Baz took longer than Simon would have liked. Finally, pale skin exposed itself, and Simon kept his shudder at the sight of Baz’s back to himself. They had spoken of it once before: the scars had been from a brutal whipping exactly once in his childhood, but his vampire skin had not healed properly because of what he was whipped with. Now, scars littered the expanse of his broad shoulders, and Simon pressed chaste kisses to each. It was routine now.

“You know how I hate clocks,” Baz replied. Simon laughed and pressed one last kiss to Baz’s back, lingering for only a few extra seconds. Luckily, someone had placed oil in the bedside table, and Simon slowly warmed it between his hands as he sat on Baz’s thighs. At the first press of Simon’s hands into Baz’s lower back, Baz let out a groan loud enough to shake the house.

“How was supper?” Simon asked, working a knot in the lower of Baz’s back until it loosened. This was his absolute favorite (non-sexual) thing to do to Baz. It was another way of being useful, and Simon prided himself on the fact that only he could provide this relief to Baz.

“Long,” Baz replied, groaning again at the pressure of Simon’s palms. “He wanted to withdraw his investment because of that fucking barrel of sherry.” Simon dug the heel of his palm into the middle of Baz’s back, and the crack that sounded through the room caused Baz to let out an orgasmic sound. “Fuck, I love it when you do that.”

Simon’s face flushed, and he coughed as he continued rubbing circles into Baz’s back. The silence did not stretch on uncomfortably, but there was something in the air neither of them were able to address. “So, he wanted to leave because one of my fucking stupid warehouse managers dropped a barrel. I told him about the price for breaking a contract, and he still seemed to want to leave. Thank God for whiskey, because I think that’s what got him to stay.”

As Simon lazily rubbed the excess oil into Baz’s skin, he found himself listening to Baz’s sherry problems and not even being bothered by how boring they were. He logically knew that if someone else was telling him about the trials and tribulations of shipping sherry, he’d fall asleep, and the realization made his stomach lurch. He knew what this was, and Baz knew, too. When would one of them say it, though?

…

They had fought before. Once, Simon had forgotten to do a few pieces of paperwork that nearly cost Baz a key investor, and they had dished it out for a good half-hour before both going out for some time to decompress. Simon apologized, and Baz did, too. Simon had been tired during that round of paperwork; Baz had been stressed all day before finding out about Simon’s mistake.

But this was different. This wasn’t about paperwork or investors or wine. This was about Simon and Baz. This was about feelings, and Simon sucked at feelings. He’d inherited it from his father. Being raised to be a vampire slayer could do that.

This was also, coincidentally, about vampires.

“You lied to me!” Simon shouted, hastily packing his belongings into a trunk. Granted, there were not many things to be gathered. It was more for show than anything else. “I’ve lived with you for nearly two years, and you’ve lied to me the entire time!”

Baz stood in front of the fireplace, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists. He was strangely composed for such an explosive conversation. Simon wanted to throw something at him, punch him, make him respond, make him yell. It wasn’t fair that he was the only person angry. This wasn’t going to be a one-sided argument.

“Do you have anything to say to me?” Simon demanded, finally stopping his movements and just…standing there. His shoulders slumped. There were tears in his eyes.

Baz turned slowly on his heels. Finally, Simon saw his face. It gave away nothing; Baz was always stoic during moments of high tensions. When Simon had nearly died those first few weeks, Baz’s face had remained a blank sheet. When his…sister? ...had died in childbirth and the letter had been delivered, Baz had said nothing and simply locked himself away. Now, though, there was no room to separate the two of them. There was no veil of death that cleaved them apart. There was only three meters of wooden floor and carpet.

Baz closed his eyes, and Simon watched as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. “You lied to me, too, Simon,” Baz finally murmured. The orange light of the fire made him look like a statue on fire. His eyes seemed to be ablaze, though that could be literal given the circumstances of his humanity. “I’ve lived with someone raised to be my murderer for nearly two years. How do you think I feel?”

Honestly, Simon had not thought of it that way. However, the part of his brain that his father had trained screamed at Simon that Baz killed innocents to live and that he was probably more than a few lifetimes older than Simon. It unfortunately cast everything into a clearer light: why Baz did not eat in front of Simon, why he left for days at a time on ‘trips’, why he had so much property and no living family.

“Have you killed people, Baz?” Simon asked. He desperately wanted to leave the house and never turn back. He should have listened to his gut. It had screamed at him for over a year that Baz was not human. Simon should have taken his father’s lessons to heart. He could be dead now. It was only a miracle that Baz had spared him.

“How dare you!” Baz snarled stomping away from the fireplace. Finally, Simon thought. Finally, this anger could be mutual. He stopped just a foot short of Simon, hand pointing directly at Simon’s face. “You don’t know shit, Simon Snow! How dare you say that! How dare you!” Up close, Simon saw more tears gather in Baz’s eyes. “Are you asking yourself why I haven’t killed you yet?”

“Fuck you!” Simon retorted, pushing Baz’s hand out of his face. “You’re a fucking liar, Baz Pitch!” Simon didn’t know why he was crying so suddenly. Well, he did know why. He’d just thought that Baz would be honest with him concerning everything, and this felt like a betrayal of the deepest kind. “You…you lied to me!”

Simon covered his face with his hands, feeling the dampness soak the sleeves of his shirt. Damnit, he thought. Why couldn’t he keep it together for ten minutes?

His hands were pulled away from his face, and before Simon could curse Baz for it, cold lips were pressed against his own. He vaguely understood that this was a kiss. Simon had never kissed anyone before. Training to kill vampires ruined any chance of his social life. Baz’s hands, still holding his wrists, slowly travelled down to Simon’s waist, holding him steady as he pulled back.

Simon was still crying, though no choked noises were escaping his lips anymore. “I don’t understand,” he whispered, because he really didn’t. Simon was not a product of fine breeding. He did not have status or wealth. He was human. He was male. But Baz’s lips on his own had felt realer than anything else in his life prior had ever felt. Simon rested his hands on Baz’s biceps, feeling the warmth leave his fingertips. “I don’t understand,” he repeated, looking up at Baz through clumped lashes and tears.

In response, Baz smiled down at him softly. There was no malice, and while Simon did see canines, he was not afraid. “Do you really believe I would have kept you here if I did not care for you?” Baz asked, running a soothing hand through Simon’s hair. “Even just a little bit?”

Simon burrowed into the space where Baz’s shoulder met his neck and hiccupped, feeling fresh tears spill down his cheek. Baz’s hand stalled in Simon’s hair, and he hastily began to apologize, which made Simon cry heavier.

Hours later, with the candles extinguished and the anger from the day gone, Simon realized Baz had never truly answered any of his questions.

#snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #rainbow rowell #carry on #carry on big bang 2020 #regency era #fanfic #love confessions #vampire!baz #vampire hunter!simon #mordelia grimm #simon works for baz #wine merchant!baz #enjoy!

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1-1snailxd-art · 5 years

Text

Sanders Sides oneshot fic - Magic Beans

Type: Magic au (kinda...like my own magic universe)

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remy/Sleep, Virgil (Patton and Roman are mentioned)

Relationships: I’m tagging losleep put it’s mostly platonic cause they’re roommates (oh my god they were roommates) and analogical because that’s the bit, implied royality.

Warnings: Remy swears...he said b**ch.

Words: 2032

Summary: Remy steps in when his sleep deprived roommate wants to quit magic school before even attempting to learn magic. A visit to his favourite coffee shop seems like the best way to snap Logan out of the funk he’s in.

Authors note: Look, I was sad, I watched @blinksinbewilderment stream on instagram and they mentioned a losleep/analogical magic coffee shop au (no angst) and I tried something.

General Taglist (let me know if you want on or off): @thequeensphinx @ollyollyoxinfree @celeste-tyrrell @pumpkinminette

Bonus: @aowrot did some art of Remy (click to see). I approve of his style and floating hat. Honoured to have fanart done for this little tale.

———————————————

“Girl, you know there is a bed right there for a reason.”

Logan sat up stiffly when the sound of Remy’s voice filled his tired ears, along with the crinkling of paper as he moved.

“I am…aware.” He said, squinting up at the man highlighted by his desk lamp. “I did not intend to sleep here.”

“Well, you did, and if that schedule is correct, you have class in an hour.”

Normally that comment would have caused Logan to bolt upright, but instead he slammed his head against the desk and groaned in frustration. If Remy’s statement on time was correct, he’d probably managed a maximum of 2 hours of uncomfortable sleep and was nowhere near ready to give his presentation on wand construction.

“You learning through osmosis now?”

“If it were possible, I would.” Logan mumbled into the paper before sitting up to rub his forehead. “I shouldn’t even bother. This whole thing is pointless. I’m not going to get into the magic course anyway, so I might as well give up and go to sleep.”

“Right, bitch, we’re out!”

Logan gasped and fumbled over his words as Remy suddenly pulled his chair back and pulled him up by his arm.

“Wha-where are we going?”

“We need a magic elixir to find my annoying, magic obsessed, roommate because that ain’t you right now.”

“That is ridiculous.” Logan huffed, unable to pull out of their friends firm grip. “Even if some personality changing elixir did exist, you wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

“True, but you don’t gotta bring it up.”

Remy was kind enough to at least grab Logan’s satchel as they left their tiny dwelling and headed into the town centre; leading the conversation so Logan could walk in reasonable silence. When the pair had first moved in together, they had hardly interacted beyond cleaning and rent day. Remy was either working or out at someone’s party until the early hours, while Logan filled his daily schedule with work, class and study. At one point, Remy questioned if the man ever slept or understood the meaning of free time. However, over the past month, Remy noticed a shift in Logan’s behaviour that he couldn’t ignore. Dishes were left piled into the sink more often, curse words penetrated the thin walls at all hours and he found an empty jam jar left on the count with a spoon in it. The jam was the final straw for Remy because it was too weird to be considered normal for his formally perfect roommate.

“May I ask where exactly we are going?”

The further they walked into the busy centre, the more Logan wanted to return to his room and forget the real world existed.

“I told you. To get an elixir.”

“That was a joke, so what is the truth.”

A sideways glance with a raised eyebrow was the only response Logan received as Remy took his hand and quicken their pace down the street. Rounding the corner Logan groaned as he saw the painted sign for ‘The Magic Beans’ and understood what his black jacket clad mate had meant by elixir.

“Coffee? Seriously?”

“Serious as a heart attack, babes.” Remy said, holding the door open for Logan to walk inside. “Trust me, this will perk you right up.”

“You’ve been partying with Patton again haven’t you?”

“I will not apologise for appreciating Roman’s poppin’ parties with that puffball dancing around. That kid has more energy than 100 shots of espresso.”

Shuffling awkwardly around the couch in the stores centre, Logan watched as empty cups levitated their way into the kitchen and laughter echoed from full tables and booths. Jealousy gripped his gut as he watched how effortless some of the workers made magic seem. Clearly, they had been blessed with strong magic in their families, unlike him. Remy may have been perfectly content with a magic-less existence, but Logan wasn’t. He wanted nothing more than to point his finger at a book to guide it to him, or even just be able to use a wand. Anything that would make him more than what he was.

“This way bookworm,” Remy guided Logan to a secluded booth in the far corner of the store and ushered him into the seat. “Let me introduce you to my magic elixir of life.”

“I don’t understand the allure of a beverage brewed from bitter tasting beans.”

“You’ll understand soon enough,” Remy beamed, hiding his face behind a menu.

“Doubtful. I’ve tasted coffee before and it was far from an enjoyable experience.”

“Haven’t tried magic beans then, have you?”

Suddenly Logan understood why Remy was hiding his face, because he was sure he was trying to compose himself right now. The voice belonged to a man that made Logan’s brain come to a sudden halt; eyes lined black, purple highlights peeked through black hair, and glossed lips were pulled into a half smile that Logan couldn’t take his eyes off.

“He hasn’t.” Remy cooed, lowering the menu and leaning back now he could maintain a cool expression. “Logan is a hard one to coax away from study hall and your parents don’t allow take away.”

The worker chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, giving Logan a peek of his hip as the black uniform lifted behind his apron.

“Yeah, they are very protective of our recipes. Better safe than sorry though. You just want the usual, Rem?”

“Cheers, babes. You know how I like it.”

“Sure thing. And what can I get - ah, Logan, was it?”

Worry danced across the server’s eyes when he was met with only a stare in response. Upon releasing he had been asked a question, Logan cleared his throat and forced his mind to function enough to grab a menu without showing just how shaky his hands were.

“Ah-um-yes. Logan is, well, me.” Cheeks burning, Logan cursed his sleep deprived brain for being unable to form coherent sentences and tried to read the jumble of letters in front of him. “I’ll have a…um…”

With a sigh of defeat, Logan dropped the menu on the table and hopped he didn’t look too ridiculous smiling up at the other man.

“I don’t know what to have. I’m sorry. This isn’t really my…”

“Cup of tea?” He offered, seeming to immediately regret the comment as Logan blinked back.

“…ironically, I’m not a tea fan either, um…my apologies, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, sorry. Virgil.” Quickly scrapping his hand down his pants to dry it, Logan shook the hand Virgil had extended. “So, you’re a real newbie to this scene then. How have you survived studying?”

“He isn’t surviving, which is why I’ve brought him here.” Remy offered before he had to watch another awkward pause.

“Right.” Virgil let out an awkward chuckle and ran a hand through his fringe as he thought out loud. “So, coffee noob, not a tea fan, study-aholic. Do you prefer sweet or savoury flavours?”

“Oh, Logan is very salty.” Logan’s head snapped round and glared at his friend opposite him. “Girl, that look only cements my point. What do you recommend, Virge?”

“I think I’ve got an idea. I’ll be back.”

“Take your time,” Logan called after him as he watched Virgil walk back towards the counter.

“You’re so gay-ow!”

Logan kicked Remy under the table and spoke in a hushed tone.

“What the heck was that?”

“You’re smitten, kitten, that’s what.” Remy said, rubbing his shin under the table. “Thank Mama Remy when you get his number.”

“Falsehood. I’m going to kill Mama Remy while he sleeps.”

“Good luck with that, you’ll be too preoccupied to even think about me. So, what’s the most powerful wand core?”

“Phoenix feather strands with northern tree sap.” Logan replied without thought; resting his elbow on the table so he could comfortably massage his left temple. “What exactly is your plan here?”

“To find the nerd that wants to put magic into the Sanders name despite what his parents say. Should I buy a wand or make my own?”

“I seriously doubt I will ever be able to learn magic at this rate… and if you’re born with magic, and the wand is just for show, buy it; but you’ll need to make it if you’re not.”

“I think you’re gonna blow them away when you pass this course and get to make a wand. I can see you now;” pushing his glasses up onto his head, Remy gestured an invisible wand out to the side. “Wielding a wand crafted from a fallen elm.”

“Based on previous encounters, I’d say that is more likely Roman’s style. Given my birth is in the later part of the year, and my reduced sight, oak would be a much better fit.” Yawning, Logan fiddled with the corner of the menu until he froze at Remy’s laugh. “What?”

“Girl, you are going to ace that test.”

“Falsehood.” He said with more force than earlier. “With an infinitesimal amount of sleep and limited knowledge, it will be impossible for me to achieve a passing grade.”

Leaning onto folded arms, Remy locked eyes with his friend and smiled. “You just answered 3 key wand questions without batting an eye. I think you’ll be fine.”

Logan raised a pointed finger to rebut the statement, before realising what Remy had done.

“You are one bad elixir away from an evil genius.”

“I was born without magic because I would have been too much for this world to handle.”

“I will concede to you this time, but even if I do go to school, I will still need to stay awake for the test and practical examination. I don’t think I can function for another 3hours.”

“I’ve got you covered,” Virgil beamed, placing a tall dark mug in front of Remy and holding another out for Logan. “Chilled to help you wake up. Mild bean blend with a salted caramel mix; extra salt to balance out the sweet. All the buzz of Remy’s coffee, without the bitter bite and some cream on top just for show.”

“That hasn’t been on the menu,” Remy grumbled as he reviewed it one more time just in case he’d missed a new addition.

“I know.” Logan noticed Virgil shift nervously on his feet after placing the beverage down before him. “Thought I would make something special for the beginner.”

“You never did that for me!”

“Don’t act so offended. You were already a veteran drinker when you first came here.”

Tuning out the other voices, Logan glanced sadly between the clock on the wall and the personalised drink in front of him. He considered what Remy had just demonstrated and made a decision before speaking again.

“Thank you, Virgil, but unfortunately I can’t stay.” Two sets of eyes snapped to Logan as he carefully shuffled out of the booth. “Remy believes I can pass this test, but if I don’t leave now, I might not be able to even take it in the first place. I’m sorry.”

A smile crept back onto Remy’s face as Virgil grabbed Logan’s hand when he turned to leave.

“Wait…you said you needed something to help get you through the exam, though.”

“I-I-I’ll just have to…push through it I guess.”

“No. Here.” Grabbing the cup from the table, Virgil held it out for the other. “Take it with you.”

“But… you don’t do take away, here. What about your family recipes?”

“Yeah, well…this is my recipe a-a-and I want you to take it.” Cautiously, Logan took the cup and Virgil released his other hand. “Besides, when you return the cup…I’ll get to see you again.”

Logan almost let the beverage slip through his fingers in shock but nodded and hurried out of the store. Remy chuckled before carefully taking a sip of his own drink.

“The only thing that would have made that gayer, would have been if Pat and Roman were here sharing a rainbow unicorn.”

“You planned that whole thing, didn’t you?” Virgil breathed, not taking his eyes away from when he last saw Logan.

“Not entirely,” he sighed and dug into his back pocket. “I thought for sure the bitch would have paid.”

———————————————

What else have I done?

Writing masterlist / master post thingy

Check out my main blog @snail-giggles for random fandom reblogs and stuff

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yentotajaan · 4 years

Note

💖😍🙃

💖 Who are 3 people your character thinks are talented?

In no particular order:

1. Tariev Sul’rah. One of Yen’to’s few close friends. Yen’to admires his ability to wield both aether and steel in equal measure. He was particularly surprised to discover Tariev had affinity for thaumaturgy and showed it off to great effect at a few Spellstone Tournaments, despite the fact it tends to burn his hands. He can also fight with sword, axe, and bare handed. He even won a Grindstone tournament once. Yen’to may or not may not be a little jealous of his repertoire.

2. Kora Arbreaux. Similar to Tariev, she has shown skill with both weapons and magic. Conjury, swords, and daggers specifically. Yen’to’s lack of magical talent perhaps gives him a bias towards those without such a handicap. She has gotten far in the Grindstone tournament consistently and is not shabby at the Spellstone Tournament either.

3. Drake Sunspear. Relatively recently hired cook for the Shroudrose Teahouse and frenemy co-worker. Yen’to gives him a hard time for being a flirt, but the man knows his way around a kitchen. Often makes desserts alongside Raisan Arcmantle, but his savory dishes are to die for. Yen’to fervently hopes the menu get expanded because of Drake. Yen’to does not have to like someone to be able to appreciate their abilities.

😍 Who are 5 people your character finds attractive?

Preface: Five?! Attraction for Yen’to is centered around personality rather than looks, but appearance is still a factor. How someone makes him feel emotionally is key. In no particular order (or is it?):

1. Kora Arbreaux. Hyur midlander. May be somewhat obvious by this point. Reserved in personality and has martial skill that appears to match or exceed his own without being boastful. Is also quite cute with tomboyish short, red hair. Her past is still something of a mystery, which also intrigues him. Her subtle and subdued sense of humor matches his own. Yen’to finds a lot of common ground with her. Neither confirming nor denying crush status.

2. Faye Covington. Hyur midlander. Exceptionally beautiful with a wit sharp enough to cut steel. Has no obvious combat ability, yet her demeanor implies she is not to be underestimated if opposed. The epitome of a proper lady, even when displeased she shows grace and poise. Yen’to has yet to see her truly angry... and the thought scares him. She is also his boss and already engaged so any attraction is more like platonic admiration.

3. A'sharah Rahz. Miqo’te Sun-seeker. An acquaintance of Yen’to and friend of Tariev. Doesn’t act like how Yen’to feels most Sun-seekers typically act. Manages to juggle both raising a kid and heading up a Hingan trading company. Not afraid to get her hands dirty. Her skin has a lovely tan that shows she loves the sun as much as Yen’to hates it, yet is alluring to him.

4. Lethe Greatmountain. Miqo’te Sun-seeker. Another friend of Tariev’s introduced to Yen’to. Grew up in Limsa Lominsa like him and has a dry sense of humor. Also allegedly a capable fighter even though he has to seee her in action, although she does sometimes do the field work portion of her port authority job (i.e. arrests). Being willing to poke fun at Tariev along with him is a plus.

5. Fu Qalli. Au ra xaela. Long time bartender at Yen’to’s favorite hangout, Bar Saisei in Shirogane. A member of the Qalli tribe, her speech is filled with melodious intonation and a rythym that mesmerizes Yen’to. Despite the fact he barely understands a word she says since she is a walking thesaurus and he swears half the words are made up. Also more like admiration since she is in a relationship (multiple).

🙃 Is there a character concept you’d love to try out?

Several, but I should probably only list one. Over the years in other MMORPGs I have largely either played bratty rogues or do-gooder paladins/fighters. The concept of a venerable scholar/mage intruiges me. Someone who is older and learned and focuses primarily on research and magical ability. I don’t think that type of character shows up enough and is far from what I usually lean towards. Perhaps the character would even act as a teacher or mentor in a student setting.

Tagging mentioned chars: @tariev @fair-fae @outoftheshade @nightswithasharah

#ask #character study #balmung #bring it on

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like-rain-or-confetti · 5 years

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Request: A Little Love (Stefan x Reader)

"So this Stefan of yours, is he just a friend? Or are you finally introducing me to your boyfriend?" "I want to beat you to a pulp for asking such a thing." Vladimir scowled at you. "It's a valid question." "Not to me and my friendship with Stefan is simply that- platonic." "You've been around for so many years and never even considered it?" You tilted your head. "Of course not." "Why?" "Apart from our clear platonic boundaries and being raised in a time where that was considered unspeakable at the least? I already had a mate, romance is not something I'll miss out on. I've already experienced it." "Have you ever thought of moving on?" You asked. "I have, just not in the way of replacement." "You choose to be alone?" "If that's what you deem it to be." "If you don't have someone in the next four centuries, I'll marry you." You grinned. "If that's still a thing by that time." Vladimir scoffed. "I'd kill you if married to you. You're incredibly annoying." You gasped. "Hey! I was being nice! Whoever marries me in the future will sob their way down the aisle because they consider themselves so lucky to tie the knot with me!" Vladimir snorted. "Or sob because they know they're about to enter their worst nightmare." You gawked, at the cupboard in front of you before grabbing a frying pan and twirling, throwing it in Vladimir's direction. Vladimir sighed as the pan bounced off of his shoulder, a dent of his shoulder now protruding out of the pan. "That's the third pan you've proceeded to break on me and you know we can't fix it. I have to buy another one now." "Give me credit, last time it broke off your head." "Since you decided to hit me with it. You know it does me no harm but do it to annoy me." "Duh? I'm practically your best friend. That's my job. Well, maybe second best to Stefan...if it's as platonic as you say." "You know what, i suggest we fix the pan by letting me hit you with it." You kicked the pan away before he could get it. "No, no. That's my thing. Get your own." You were both quiet for a moment. "How long has it been since you have seen him?" "Fifty years." Your eyes widened slightly whilst nodding. "Are you looking forward to seeing him?" Vladimir glanced at you before smiling softly. "Yes. I am."

Vladimir wished he never said so. Whilst he didn’t appreciate your suspicions on his relationship with Stefan, it’s by far worse when he noticed that you and Stefan really got on...a lot...maybe a little too much. When he saw what was happening, he was ready to die right there and then. This would be a team up against him situation or force him to tag along to watch grotesque and overly dramatic romantic altercations.

“Doesn’t Vladimir shut you up?” Stefan asked. “He could try.” You grinned. “If he doesn’t i will.” “You could try, sure.” “You don’t know what your asking for, little one.” “Maybe, you should show me.” You grinned. “Maybe, i will.” Stefan turned to look at you with a grin. “Stop it.” Vladimir drawled, completely drained from repeating this same warning over the past couple of days. “i’m stuck with you two, in a car. Please just allow me to keep my sanity.” “Oh come now, Vladimir. Don’t be sulking and ruining our fun now.” Stefan said, eyes on the road. Vladimir huffed.

You tried to hide your grin, an idea popping to your head. You were sitting behind Stefan, making him free reign. You tried to make it seem nonchalant as you repetitively kicked the back of his seat. Stefan chuckled. “Just because, I let you away with more than Vladimir doesn’t, doesn’t mean you push your luck.” You continued kicking and squealed when Stefan grabbed your ankle, holding it hostage. “No! Give it back!” “No.” “There will come a time that you have to drop it to change the gears!” “Not unless i do so with your foot.” “Oh, so you enjoy restricting me, hm?” Vladimir muttered about the flirting once again which went ignored. Stefan grinned. “I could do much worse.” “Oh, i bet you could.” “That’s it, pull over.” Vladimir insisted and Stefan sighed, unable to find the will to change his mind. “Why?” You asked. “I’m not listening to another five hours of this, you two can make it there on your own. I’m making my own way.” Vladimir walked off. “Aw, come on Vladimir! You know you’re still my number one man!” “Shut up!” He called back.

“What a downer!” You scoffed before climbing to the front seat as Stefan chuckled. “You get used to it after the first few decades. I just let him get on with it.” “Do you think he knows we flirt much more frequently just to annoy him.” “Absolutely.” Stefan said. “So now that it’s just us, what’s the agenda?” “To make Vladimir wait as long as possible of course. I suggest we turn around.” Stefan said. “No, that’s just mean.” You grinned. “Though i do think we should stop tonight on the grounds of me sleeping.” “Now, that’s an idea.” Stefan nodded.

As planned the two of you stopped in the middle of nowhere, the desert of all places, for the night. You talked for a few hours before you were ready to sleep. You had climbed into the back seat, curled up against the door, your hood up. That was two hours ago, it was one in the morning and you couldn’t sleep. Your eyes opened to the moonlight and Stefan sitting in the drivers seat, perfectly still- like a statue. He had been so silent, it was bizarre but you could tell something was bothering him. He let out a sigh before abruptly getting out of the car, door slamming shut. You jumped slightly as saw him walk around to the other side of the car.

He climbed in beside you, shutting the door and turned to face you. You shifted to face him. “Do you often talk to others the way you talk to me?” You knew exactly what he was referring to and you paused. “Should i assume you wouldn’t tell me even if you had?” “Have you?” You shot back. “With a human? have you flirted?” Stefan nodded, leaning into the seat to somehow get closer to you. “To lure them away, to feed. Yes, I have.” “Are you going to eat me?” Stefan chuckled softly, being quiet and some how more alluring. “No. I won’t. Do you mean what you say when you did?” You took in a nervous breath. “A little. I thought i did but quickly moved on. Never the right person, so i played it off as jokes.” “I see.” Stefan moved in closer. “Do you mean it when you say such things to me?” “Wow, how did we get onto this?” “I ask because, i know my answer.” “You do?” You asked. “Have you ever kissed them?” He jumped to the next question making you blush. “No...i never let it go that far.” “Did you ever want to?” “Why are you asking?” You finally asked. “I want to understand you better. It’s better asking than making assumptions, right?” “If i tell you, you can’t talk about it with anyone.” “of course.” Stefan assured you with sincerity. “It wouldn’t be my business to tell.” You sighed. “I’ve been curious about it. Have you?” “No, i never let it go that far.” Stefan smiled, repeating your words. “However, I have wanted to.” “Really? When?” Your eyes gleamed slightly in curiosity. “Every time, i’m with you.” Your heart began to race. “I asked all of this because, i wanted to be sure. I didn’t want to assume anything.” Stefan explained with a smile. “Sorry, but was this an intense line of questioning to imply that you like me a little more than a friend would?” You asked and Stefan grinned. “Look at you go, that is exactly what i’m implying. That being said...” Stefan trailed off and planted his lips to yours in a kiss. He was about to break it but you moved closer to him, making him chuckle against your lips. He broke away. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to continue such relations.” “No need.” You said almost breathlessly. “I am one hundred percent ready to continue this.” Your gaze widened slightly. “What?” Stefan asked, cradling your face. “Vladimir is going to kill us when he finds out.” “No, actually i believe he’ll wish that he stayed in the car.”

#twilight #vladimir and stefan #the romanian coven #reader #one shot #oneshot #request

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