Sylus

ʜᴇ/ɪᴛ 18

[sylusizhere]

Masterlist

Jujutsu Kaisen

Hello, my name is Sylus, I'm 18. I only write for male or gender neuteral readers, female readers are welcome, just be respectful.

I have a lot of interests and they lessen or grow over time. At the moment I write for..

A lot of you most likely saw me, or followed me when I wrote Love and Deepspace so here is the link for every fic I wrote, I do not currently write them anymore, but it is possible for them to pop back up.

Love And Deepspace

[pykeling]

older stuff while i’m busy learning genji

[sylusizhere]

actually just busted absolutely everywhere

[sylusizhere]

If you want it back, I'm here waitin, come take it back

ღ. # synopsis ─ that was what life was supposed to be, not this, not this twisted mess of what could be if he was more of a man than he is.

ღ. # tags ─ leon scott kennedy x (gn)!reader, angst, both povs, happy ending, maybe a smutty part two, who knows, re4 leon's jacket but can be read any leon.

ღ. # word count ─ 752

The breakup was rough to say the least, Leon had commitment issues and attachment issues in one, so asking him to commit to you was hard and asking him to leave was even harder. So inevitably you had to avoid him, for his own sanity and yours. "Baby come on, I know.. I know." His voice was so warm, so gentle it almost made you cave and turn around, to run back into his arms like you were meant to.

But that wasn't right, if he wanted you, he was going to man up and find you, he can either commit to you or leave you the hell alone. That was how all this began, living your day to day life with no phone, knowing he'd message, knowing he would call. In some ways it was nice, to be disconnected from that part of the world. Your family probably thought you were crazy, or finally fell of the face of the earth, but it didn't matter, because you had hope Leon would come find you.

You had his jacket, the brown leather with a fluffy inside, it was his favourite one, you had always stolen it but this time he couldn't get it back so easy. The jacket was teasing you as it sat on your bed, Leon had laid there when you two first met too, why did it feel like the world was taunting you for doing what was right?

↓

Leon stared at the message, it had been a week now, of him staring at the last message you sent before you disappeared, he knew where to find you. So why hadn't he? He could get up off his ass and find you, tell you he was sorry for being an idiot and live happily with you. But it was deeper than that, he had to protect you, umbrella was still out there somewhere and everything be damned if they found out you were important to him.

People were out there that wanted to hurt him, physical damage did next to nothing to him so the next best thing was mental damage. Something that would scar him from the inside out. He thought back to that night, someone had broken in, tried to snatch you out of bed when he was fast asleep next to you. Had he not woken up then he would've lost you, and if he doesn't get the fuck up now he'd really lose you. And worst of all someone else would get you.

Part of him wondered if he deserved you, he knew you deserved someone who could communicate properly and was a better person, someone who had a better grip on themselves. But.. You were his, you had been for so long.. Right? You were his.

Okay, he could do this, he could show up at your door and tell you the truth, tell you how he really feels and how badly he needs you. As he stood and began to make himself look presentable he spun around looking for his jacket. No.. It wasn't here. Okay, now it was a quest of getting you back and his favourite jacket. He could do that.

The drive was silent, usually you would be the one controlling the radio, choosing some song he had never heard of, then you would call him some name to make fun of him. That was what life was supposed to be, not this, not this twisted mess of what could be if he was more of a man than he is.

↓

You froze at the knock, Leons jacket brought tightly around your frame, surely it wasn't him. As you opened the door your heart fell into your stomach, he wasn't supposed to be here yet, he was supposed to take his time or maybe not even come at all. "Before you slam the door, just listen."

You nodded but stayed in place, not letting him come inside. If he wanted to play footsies for a good amount of time he could at least fix it by standing in the rain like they do in romance movies. "I'm not prince charming, and I'm not able to appear at the perfect time just to sweep you off your feet. I'm a traumatised agent that kills insane bio weapons and makes cheesy oneliners. But I am willing to try. I want to commit to you, come home to you after missions and hear you fuss over the smallest of bruises. I want you."

[sylusizhere]

Give in to desire, I can make you feel so..

ღ. # synopsis ─ deviancy comes with more emotions than just, happy, sad, anxious, it comes with emotions no one wants to speak of.

ღ. # tags ─ connor x male reader, newly deviant connor, detective reader, hank is tired of this shit, will probably make a part two.

ღ. # word count ─ 980

It was foreign, for an android to be in this situation, touching a human this way. Warm synthetic skin gliding along sweaty hairs, it was even more foreign for a human to be touching something so deep inside an android. Perhaps he should've researched if this was safe or not. Hopefully he booted up properly after this, if not he supposes he could be okay with this being the end. "Connor, just to clarify.. If I tug one of these it's like.. Stroking my dick?"

The sheer vulgarity of your words made his LED flash between red and yellow for a moment. "Yes, I do believe-oh." That was what it felt like to be touched so intimately, it was as if tiny fireworks were exploding throughout his entire body. Now Connor could understand why humans spoke so highly of this interaction. "Please do that again." Despite the unfamiliar-ness of this he needed more, he wanted it to keep happening, to feel those explosions over and over.

Your hands were warm and so soft, it was something he may crave everyday of his newly deviant life.

"Connor, I need your help. What the hell are you thinking so hard about?" The android slowly turned to Hank, now thinking about how to bring this up without sounding creepy. The precinct had said on multiple occasions, while not meaning to, Connor was.. creepy.

"I was… Thinking of the other detective I've been working with." He might've gotten away with it being nothing if he hadn't had bright blueish purple in his cheeks. Connor looked away quickly, hands coming to cover his face, he knew this was highly inappropriate. You and him barely knew each other, new partners that were working on a multi murder case.

"Connor. You know what kid, I don't wanna know." The older man pretended as if nothing had happened and continued working his case with the occasional question to the android. It was none of his business, he knew you would treat him nice enough, maybe a little wary of androids but you'd listen to any issues he had. You and Hank weren't close per se but he knew enough to trust his android son into your grasp.

Hank peeked up over the screen eyes scanning his partners face. "Have you told him?" As if the gods themselves were cursing Connor he stiffened at the sound of your voice. You were joking with some other cop, a nice smile on your features, if he was struggling to focus before it was much worse now.

"No. I have not, I do not properly understand every bit of my… Emotions yet." If it was as simple as 'yes I think about you sexually.' Then he might've told you the moment it happened, but there was more to it. Connor wanted you sexually and romantically, he had thought about asking you to go to dinner with him but thought against it because he can't consume food.

"Hank I need your kid. Going out to examine a body, or a few. Depends on how may our killer kills on the way."

"He's all yours, not bein' much help to me anyway."

Connor followed behind you obediently, a small nervous smile on his features. He had sat in your car multiple times, you even let him drive once. Though it was most likely because you were tipsy from the bar. "So, wet dream about me huh?" Embarrassment, that was one an emotion Hank had taught him, that is how he felt in this moment.

"Detective I.. I know it is highly inappropriate, I apologise. I will run a routine check to figure out what is causing it." When the car came to a stop h found himself looking around, this was.. Not in town, this was in the middle of nowhere.

"Who said I was upset?" Connor tried to keep his composure, helping you when you asked for it and staying quiet when you didn't. Perhaps if he made as minimal impact on the situation he could pretend you didn't know and he didn't feel it. Inspecting the bodies seemed to last forever, usually he enjoyed working but in this moment, he wanted nothing more than to go back to the station.

"I'm not upset Connor, curious though. Can androids experience.. An orgasm?"

"I was not equipped for, sexual pleasure. But I have heard that there is a way for me to feel it without genitalia."

"Wait, you don't have a dick? So what's there?"

"I believe humans refer to it as 'Ken doll anatomy."

This was new information, to you, granted you didn't know much about androids and android anatomy so most information was new but knowing they could feel pleasure akin to an orgasm you suddenly had a new plan for after work.

Surprisingly with banging your android partner on your mind you were able to get your actual work done rather quickly, now was to see if Connor wanted to come over.. "Do you have anything else to do?" The android must've not heard you because he didn't respond, he just continued looking around. "Connor."

"I was assigned to you and Lieutenant Anderson, I go where I am needed by you two." Not really an answer but an answer enough you started the car and began the drive back. Connor's hands stayed glued to his lap, and his eyes looked at everything but you.

"So if I said that I needed you back at my place, you'd come?" You smiled at him as you watched his LED quickly change to yellow, cycle to red and back to blue. Sure Connor was newly deviant but he was well aware of what you were implying. For a moment he didn't reply or even acknowledge you spoke, then he turned to you, cheeks soft blue.

"If that is what you wanted from me, yes."

[sylusizhere]

Don't stop believing how you got here

ღ. # synopsis ─ resident evil men are best with weapons and malicious creatures, but making sure you remember just how deserving you are of what you have, is their specialty.

ღ. # tags ─ leon kennedy x reader, chris redfield x reader, angst w/ comfort, blood, zombies, canon typical violence.

ღ. # word count ─ 457

Leon S. Kennedy :

The blood gushing from your arm while you both shot endless bullets into the mass hoard of zombies reminded you of how serious this job was, how serious what you were and did was. It was easy to get lost in your head, in the swarms of evil that threatened the world, it was terrifying to realise that you and Leon were almost singlehandedly making sure the world didn't end. Of course you questioned if you truly deserved it all, after all.. You were an agent, and were you even a good one?

"Duck!" Leon's voice brought you out of the moment, the world coming back into frame around you, that's right, it was over. You and Leon were home, just got home actually. You watched his boots fly over your head and into the heap of shoes by the door, you really needed to clean that up soon. Life was different now, you both were responsible for much more than just yourselves or the place you called home. You were responsible for each other, for the world and for taking down whatever Umbrellathrew at you.

"How did you.. How are you so sure this line of work is for you?" He frowned looking at the way your usual shine in your eyes was gone, drowned under the fear of failure and worry. Leon knew how much failure terrified you, that even the smallest ding on the pedestal you had built for yourself would cause you to fall miles down. But he was also aware that you were capable of so much, able to do so many things, be GOOD at so many things.

You moved to settle on the couch, slide your boots off, take off the heavy gear that seemed to weigh thousands of pounds. "I know that I like helping people, I like... Saving people who need it. And this line of work is for you, because it's what you wanted, you want to help, to save and you spent so many years of school, and hard work to get here." Leon's voice was comforting, like a lighthouse amongst the storm, he was right.

You chose this line of work because it's what you want to do. Fear will not hold you back from saving people, from the world and from themselves.

Chris Redfield :

Chris was a loving man, clingy, needy and most of all full of love, which he directed ALL of it to you. Which meant he noticed when things were askew. "You haven't touched your ice cream, I can put it back in the freezer if it's too melty." You watched his hands caress your own, thick calloused fingers so tentatively showing your own over worked ones love. Even on your best days it was hard to believe that you deserved everything you had in this moment, in this life.

You had a stable home, were going to finally be apart of your dream job, a loving boyfriend and a strong WIFI connection at all times. "Chris, how do you know that the life you always wanted and now have is meant for you? How do you know, you deserve it?" Your boyfriend was quiet, his hands withdrawing from yours as he pondered the question, he had lived an insane life as is so he tried to keep a happier perspective when it came to topics that would have a saddened answer.

"Life isn't defined but what you feel in one moment, what you feel over the entirety of your life is what your life will be defined by. If you sit here your entire life wondering if what you have and have gotten is enough what does that say about the life you lived?" Chris didn't really answer your question, if anything he put more questions in your head, and yet you felt more fulfilled then you had moments before. "Quit worrying about if you deserve what you have and eat your ice cream, before it turns into soup and then I drink it."

The house felt warmer than it did when it was full of your worries, life felt less daunting then it did moments ago, at the end of the day, this was your life and you were happy to say so, happy to be apart of something so peaceful. And that was enough to remind you that worrying isn't worth it.

[sylusizhere]

No turning back, hold on to them railings

ღ. # synopsis ─ falling for your subordinate is not what's meant to happen in the workplace, but when your subordinate rides you like there's no tomorrow what do you do?

ღ. # tags ─ past smut, they're both idiots, chris redfield x albert wesker, jill is here too! to make fun of chris, this is lwk slop and rushed im sorry, love confessions (?) they're gay.

ღ. # word count ─ 2.7k

Wesker's hands are surprisingly delicate, smooth and soft against Chris' own whom are calloused and rough like bricks. In some twisted way it reminds him of home, if either of them felt the others touch they'd calm down in an instant. It was both comforting and disgusting, Albert was ashamed, he was not a man to be wedded let alone loved.

"The night can end here.. Or you can come with me. To mine."

It was a genuine ask but the pleading look in Chris' eyes was more genuine than anything he could've said. He wanted Wesker more than anything else in this moment, he had wants and needs, but did they align with his superiors?

"Is this truly what you want? I assume you're aware I have no plans to do this again after tonight, I have no plans to do it tonight either." Yes he meant it, yes it were true, and yet Wesker found himself nodding toward the other man. No he didn't want to be wed, or loved, or perhaps maybe he was scared.

Chris smiled like he had just been told he won the lottery, but he didn't explode, he kept just how excited he was hidden deep inside his gut. Well aside from his hand never leaving the others thigh on the drive. He could settle for one night, he could settle just for tonight. He could, but he'd wait as long as Wesker asked, everyone knows love waits.

The drive wasn't long by any means, and yet Albert was sweating so bad he might've been able to pass it off as rain.. Had they been sitting outside. "Maybe we shouldn't." Redfield would never touch him without proper consent and permission even if he did technically get both prior.

"Do you not want this?"

Being a superior and willingly laying down bare for your subordinate was wrong, in a number of rule books, a number of handy books and probably one of the most frowned upon actions within a company. Did Wesker really care about the public eye or was he worried about doing something dumb and regretting what becomes of him and his favourite co-worker?

"I do."

The younger frowned as he unlocked his front door and opened it for the other. Had he made a mistake inviting his boss into his home, with the intention to bend over? Chris set his keys down, sliding his jacket off before putting it on the hook and then moving to take the others. "We don't have to have sex, want something to drink? I could make us dinner."

The scariest part about one night stands with someone you genuinely care about is the chance it doesn't stay a one night stand. The chance that weeks later they show up in the rain, on their knees begging for more, begging for, forever.

Wesker turned, gritting his teeth at the sad dog eyes he was met with. He took his sun glasses off tossing them behind his head and beginning to take his vest off. If he was going to do something stupid he was going to make sure he enjoyed every second. The younger's eyes lit up as he began to follow suit of the older but he knew better, he didn't receive orders to undress.

"Stop."

Albert's skin was smooth, pale and blinding in the sunlight. It was uncharted territory begging to be covered with bruises and scratches, but orders were meant to be given then followed. Free for all was less fun and double the mess. "Don't touch." Clothes slowly began to cover the tile under their feet, it was smooth but cool, grounding in a way.

Chris listened, letting his hands remain at his sides, thick fingers twitching with need. A loyal dog who followed orders was far more sought after than an angry dog who bit. So his hands stayed, even when Wesker's fingers came so close to his throat to unbutton his work clothes. Even as focused fingers slid his pant zipper down and slid the entirety of his clothes off.

"Good." A small line of praise, barely audible to anyone, but Chris heard it, he heard it so loud it sounded like a command. "What is it you want Chris? Why did you invite me here tonight?"

"I want you."

The day after doing something sexual is blissful, it reminds you that good things do last even if they aren’t lasting in the moment. Yet in this specific moment Wesker can’t think properly, had what he and Chris done.. Was it wrong? Were they wrong for doing it? Or were they both just as they were the day before it?

“Cap, have some files that need your signature.” Chris voice was smooth, filling the small room that had become Wesker’s home at work. He really should’ve chosen a better place to imagine making out with his subordinate, his office now entirely smelt of Chris, of what they could do.

“Yes. Leave them there.” Chris knew him better than that, he had been crushing on Albert for months now, he spent countless hours learning. He even got him to admit he wanted what they had done last night so why was he so against it now?

Chris sat on the others desk, watching him pace the small space. “Did you not want it?” Wesker wanted to side eye the other man, maybe even punch him in the throat because it was the opposite. Albert had wanted it, worst of all he wants more. Denying yourself of what is inches away, and practically perching itself for you. Was rather difficult..

"What're you going on about?" Wesker's tone was more accusatory than he intended it to be, Redfield had nothing to be sorry for, he hadn't done anything wrong. Had Wesker pushed himself on the other?

"Of course I wanted it. Did you not?" What a blessing miscommunications were during what could be the most important moment in either of their lives. Chris suddenly stood, sliding to pull the curtains down, the room was just theirs, no one else mattered right now.

"You think I didn't want that? That was something I had been dreaming about. Are you crazy?"

Albert shook his head and sat down at his desk, now he had to face his mistake, letting himself fall for someone who was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Chris wasn't stupid, well not when it came to most things, he could tell when he wasn't wanted somewhere. So of course he nodded and turned to the door, perhaps Wesker just needed a few minutes to calm down, to come to terms with what he had done.

The office air changed in an instant, it was cold and unwelcoming like coming home to your empty bed when all you want is to hold someone else. This is how it was meant to be, Wesker was meant to face the world, cold and alone. So of course he did, as the days went by he avoided any kind of communication with Chris that wasn't strictly work related, he locked himself in his office and focused solely on work.

Chris on the other hand was on top of everything, he kept his paperwork proper and his work on the field clean. He could get Wesker's attention if he continued to be the best worker on the force, right?

"What did you do to him? No ones seen him leave in a week." Jill's voice might've been comforting had it not been about this situation, Chris didn't know what had went wrong. Sure they had sex but it was good sex and they both consented to it, they both wanted it just as bad as the other. She frowned as her friend seemingly deflated at the mere mention of their superior, whatever happened must've been bad. At least that's what everyone assumed.

Chris frowned, fingers tracing the bracelet that laid tightly around his wrist, no one knew where it came from, one day the Redfield just showed up to work with it so tight on his flesh it looked like it might've hurt. Wesker had said it was just a gift, a reward for a mission well done but the heart that was written on the note it came with said more than the other man would've ever said. Jill couldn't help rolling her eyes, she knew too well this was some lovesick dog act that would either win over their superior or end whatever they had started."Walk me through what went down that night."

"I caught him before either of us went home and I invited him over, I didn't even think he'd agree. Why would Wesker even agree to have sex with me?"

"But he agreed didn't he? Keep going."

"On the drive home I put my hand on his thigh, you know like they do in the movies! I thought it was cute and he didn't push me away but he was second guessing if going to my place for sex was the right thing to do. Obviously I didn't touch him, I even offered to make dinner instead of have sex with him. But then he started undressing, he got into that scary mindset he only uses when someone's in trouble."

Jill groaned in annoyance but urged her friend to continue, if this was going to be fixed she had to hear the entirety of the story and fix it from the second it went wrong.

"He took his clothes off and then slowly started to take mine off.- Should I keep going? This is kind of.."

"Yes."

Chris continued the story exactly as it happened, because it had been the only thing on his mind since it happened.

Wesker wasn't at ease, his brain was far to focused on doing this right, he was stiff. Perhaps that should've been Chris' first sign that this wasn't right but he was excited, he was finally going to sleep with his boss that he had been crushing on for months. "I assume you want to bottom?" Albert asked searching in the bedside table for lube, deep in his gut he knew this was incorrect, he should be making out with Chris, showering him in affections. But the impending fear of doing this wrong, of making this something they'd forget in the next day filled his gut. "I can do either, what do you prefer?"

Oh Chris always the one catering to others, but tonight, tonight he would be taken care of. Chris laid naked on the bed with a bright smile on his cheeks, it was pathetic really, being so happy for mediocre sex. Wesker found the lube and moved to kneel between the others legs, the warmth of the younger's body heat almost masked the fear filling him. This wasn't a stranger, and it certainly wasn't a quick fuck that they both would never speak of again. This was something that could reoccur, something that could blossom into a true lasting story.

Albert moved to kiss the other, one of his hands squeezing the others throat so tightly it might've hurt had it not been insanely sexy to the other. "Wesker please." A small ask in a room that seemed to be so big in the moment, a plea for more, a reminder that his subordinate wanted this just as much if not more than he did.

"You bottomed? You're telling me you rode that? You're like double his weight."

Chris groaned in annoyance before continuing.

Wesker's lips were hot, his tongue wet between Chris' lips that were dry, he really should've put lip balm on beforehand. The kiss was surreal, they were kissing in bed, naked, together. "What is it?" Perhaps he was just horny beyond his brain but the older man's voice sounded like something he could listen to for the next thirty years. Maybe longer if they lived that long.

"I wanna be on top of you.." Chris whined, nails digging into the others shoulders. This was real, he was really going to ride his boss, and worst of all he's totally going to cum way too early. Wesker moved their positions trying to hide a groan as his dick was pressed flush to his stomach. The lube cap opening seemed so quiet when the only other noise was their breathing, and Chris' whines.

Before Albert got a chance to use the lube on his own fingers the other man had it spread across his and was already moving to finger himself. It had been a long time since he did this, at least in front of someone, he knew Wesker's eyes were watching his every move closely, what spot got the biggest reaction.

"Putting on a show hm?" The older man smirked, one hand settled on the others hip while the other gripped Chris' neck to pull him into a kiss. Well more so a make out because now that he had him, he certainly didn't want to stop. Was there such a thing as too much kissing? Could he potentially bore the other to death if they kissed for too long?

"So he wasn't fully there? But he didn't want to stop and was clearly into it?"

"Yeah, but now that I think about it. Maybe it just wasn't good enough for him?"

Before Wesker could properly react Chris was slowly taking him in, inch by inch. It was heaven, neither of them had, had sex in enough time that they both might've blown their loads early if they didn't have kissing to focus on. Plus, Albert was pretty sure sex wasn't nearly as memorable if you both came early.

Once he was fully seated he waited, both for himself and in hopes that Wesker would quit hiding his face and kiss him again. "Cap. If it's that bad I could-" He could've offered to leave.. Nope, this was his apartment, well he could leave to give him space.

"Move."

Once again it was a simple command, something familiar and something he could follow. But it was ice cold, the usual warmth that followed his words when he spoke to Chris was gone. When had his tone changed?

"How did you not notice-"

"Shut up, I was kind of focused on his dick."

"So you were thinking with yours?"

The entire floor froze when they heard it, that familiar click of Wesker's office opening, Chris shot up but froze at what came next. "Christopher, my office."

It wasn't a long walk, but as Chris stepped toward the room he had been eyeing for weeks, he couldn't help but feel as though it was acres away. Surely he had a number of eyes watching his every move, after all why did Wesker who had been completely silent for so long suddenly want Chris?

The air was warm in the office as he closed the door behind him, Albert was waiting for him, he sat at his desk with his fingers laced on top of it before speaking. "Retelling our night together to another agent isn't what I thought I'd hear today." Chris stood straighter as his face flushed, was Wesker listening to him?

"I.. I wanted another opinion to try to figure out why you dissapeared that night and avoided me." The older mans head sank, he shouldn't have left the second the other fell asleep that night and he shouldn't have tried so hard to make it perfect because it freaked himself out in the end. For a moment the guilt and anxiety about that night swirled in the small room. "Was it not good? I mean It had been awhile since I did it with another person but I didn't think.."

"Actually, I wanted more. I wanted to keep going until the sun rose, but you were already fast asleep after the first round. I thought perhaps I bored you to sleep, I'm older after all I prefer more kissing to.. Other methods."

The genuine laugh that bubbled out of Chris' throat made the room feel homey, it was slightly insulting given the situation but the relief they both felt made it worth it. "You thought.. The kissing was boring to me?" Wesker's cheeks warmed in embarrassment, his feelings for his subordinate really were turning him into a soft ball of mush. Perhaps if this was wrong, for once he didn't need to be right.

[skelesass]

you seem so tired

[sylusizhere]

this is the end of me

[sylusizhere]

We all need someone to stay

ღ. # synopsis ─ everyone needs someone to know them, to see them and maybe to kiss.

ღ. # tags ─ hurt with comfort, soft asshole logan, kissing, unrequited love, not really, angst, logan howlettx male reader, logan loves in his own way, sex jokes, mentions of blood and death.

ღ. # word count ─ 4.1k

Logan had been spending days pissing you off for weeks now, always torturing you, pressing your buttons just to see how far you'd let it go before breaking. Except you never did, or if you did, you never let him see it, sometimes you'd disappear for days on end, was that when you broke down?

Sure you had your reasons for avoiding him in the moment of weakness and he sure as shit didn't deserve to see you at your lowest lows if he couldn't handle you at your peak of highs. But it made his stomach constrict at the idea you went to someone else for comfort, when he was here.

In his head he was trying to help, you didn't tell anyone your problems, you just swallowed them into the darkest pits to let them fester. If he remembered correctly you had said 'no one needs to hear those' when Charles had asked what thoughts were keeping you up at night. Each time you came back from your quiet getaway you were different, put together, and for once calm.

Of course Logan felt better about upsetting you when you returned refreshed and happier but the second your brow started to furrow at every conversation, when bags darkened under your eyes, when you got quiet and made yourself as small as possible. He was there to save the day, his way, even if it killed him to watch you run.

"Upsetting him will only get you so far. Talk to him."

Scott's voice invaded whatever safe haven Wolverine had dug into, inside his head, now what remained was you conversing with Xavier and Magnus. "I ain't talkin' to him. This is easier." Even though this was a shitty arrangement, it allowed him to keep an eye on you, and more or less take care of you.

Logan shook his head as if to further his point before turning on his heel toward the door, pretending the real reason he did this didn't exist was easier than telling you that every time he saw you with someone else he wanted to rip their throat out. He had no right to be territorial, you weren't his in any capacity and yet his heart skipped when you offered him a smile.

As he walked his brain went through his thoughts, through the feelings he felt around you, through the next ways he'd piss you off until you exploded, to who you went to for comfort.

Scott was the only one who knew, he had figured it out and tried to gently coax the truth out of the shorter but that resulted in an argument. Though the truth did come out after a multitude of curse words and names directed at the other. 'This isn't going to satisfy you forever, you have to do something.'

Summers had once said but who was Logan kidding, he wasn't satisfied now, and he probably never would be.

Logan stopped in his tracks looking up at the sky and inhaling deeply, something was wrong, a storm was coming.

The thunder had ruptured the sky far too quickly for any of you, no-one was properly prepared, now the mansion was so silent it seemed unlived in. No one making a single sound as if to keep the peace the building had away from the roaring thunder and pouring rain.

You didn't mind the rain, thunder was okay but the loudness of it all and the silence of the mansion that usually bubbled like home, made your chest hurt. The last thing you needed was stress on top of the luggage of emotions you were already feeling and yet here Logan was, probably coming to torture you more.

"You're driftin' again. Penny for your thoughts? That saying is dumb..." It was a ramble, but there was something underlying in it that made your grip on the mug soften. Genuine concern, he was seriously concerned for you and asking for genuine words to know if you were alright.

For a moment you didn't respond to him, awkward silence drifting over the room like a thin blanket of morning dew, just cold enough to make you shiver, but gentle enough it was almost comforting. "Logan, why are you here. You make time to upset me and now you want to know why I'm upset."

He laughed, you thought it might've been genuine until you heard the sharp intake of breath after, it was nervous. "No, I didn't ask why ya were upset. I asked what the hell you're thinkin' about."

Sure he was right and maybe that's what pissed you off the most, he was infuriating, poking and prodding at your weak spots. "Why do you care? So I can tell you and you can use it against me?" Logan scoffed and for a moment you saw a small sliver of regret in it, but it was gone even faster than it came.

"If I wanted to use something personal against you, I woulda' already bub."

The pet name was infuriating, it set your insides ablaze and made your face feel warm. He was an asshole, and yet he had wedged a place into your heart that no one else had, had the chance of doing. Maybe it was some twisted sense of consistency, the fact you knew it was coming at the end of every other week, that he would appear and make your life hell.

Perhaps it was the fact even though he aggravated everything inside you, you knew he was there if you ever needed something serious. The one time you had gotten messed up so bad in a fight you couldn't move, there had been a choice you had to make.

Swallow your pride and yell for him knowing that he was in radius to hear or die, here and alone.

You remembered it like it was yesterday, blood seeping into your suit and your limbs tingling before you lost feeling in them, your throat felt so dry, fingers trying to grip anything around you. Your brain only registering Logan, if you needed help you could count on him, he'd always come running. "LOGAN!" And come running he did, you heard him before you saw him, panicked breathing, and thundering footsteps.

Blood decorated his own suit and his claws were still out, blood dripping down the tips. But he was there, he came running, he found you amidst the chaos and had helped.

It was a fond memory now that you were alive and well, even if he was a dick. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if he thought about it too, if he had worried that you'd die in that moment. If he even cared enough to wonder about foolish things like that, then again, if he hadn't cared, why had he come?

"Do you remember when we got stuck inside that prison together with Scott and Jean. They had separated us before the walls collapsed, we all were stuck fighting our own battles until the rest of the prison had fallen too? Do you remember when I-"

"When you yelled my name? I ain't gonna lie to ya bub, I thought you were gonna die there."

Your insides hummed in delight at the fact he remembered, that he still did think of moments like that, that he still thought of you. It was nice, to know that maybe for different reasons but someone you cared about and wondered about felt the same toward you.

"You came running, god it took you less than a minute to find me, I could hear the walls crumbling down before I heard your footsteps and your breathing... You came, why?" The conversation had suddenly took such a vulnerable turn it felt like the air had been taken from your lungs and shot so far away you'd never get it back.

For a long time he stayed silent, his breath was slow, so slow you thought he might've stopped breathing. Until his lips parted and he took one deep breath in. "I've lived a long time kid, seen a lotta people die, killed more. Some I've known, some I didn't. When you see so many dead in your arms whether the kill be yours or someone else's.."

This was the most civil you both had been since the incident and it felt like hope, that maybe this stupid charade would be over and you two could be friends..

"You learn that death isn't... Isn't the worst thing to people, that there's worse things out there than death. I knew you were scared, could hear your heartbeat, sounded like a fuckin' horse. Even if you did die then, I knew you didn't wanna be alone because being alone is scarier then death to you bub."

Tears filled your eyes, bubbling in the back of your throat, suddenly you felt like you were choking. The air was so far you felt like you'd die before it made its way back into your lungs, Logan was a dick. He pressed your buttons and upset you but he knew you. Logan saw you.

Your feet were taking you away before you could properly think about what you wanted, whether that was to curl up in his arms and tell him how scared you had been. Or to walk away and pretend this encounter never happened.

Wolverine didn't try to follow, it wasn't his place and he knew that, you weren't his to worry about. Not like this.

You shuffled your way back to your room wiping your eyes and taking deep breaths in. Your room was warm as if someone had diverted all of the pleasant feelings here, the second you closed the door behind you, you felt safe.

Logan wasn't here and he wouldn't invade this safe haven you had built at the school. Though as the warm water fell down the curve of your spine and to your feet you felt your mind shifting into the thoughts you hid.

If Logan ever found out how desperate you were to have comfort from him, not from Charles, Erik or Hank he'd never let you live it down. Even when the rubble had cleared, when the team had surrounded you both and medics came barreling down the makeshift path he hadn't let go. At the time you could faintly make out the rapid breathing and the heat that poured from his palms into your face.

He hadn't let you go when they said you had to be taken to the lab, and he sure has hell hadn't left your bedside, well that's what you were told. Charles was reliable about that sort of thing, but believing that the man who tormented your brain to annoy you, caring like that was... Unbelievable.

By the time you had laid down to sleep, your mind had quieted, shoulders and knees aching from the day. It was almost nice, to feel the warmth of your bed, you wondered if Logan was in bed right now too. Maybe he was in bed doing the exact same thing as you, laying wrapped up in his sheets, most likely shirtless.

The nightmares tormented him, made him run hot, he always slept as cool as possible as to not soak the sheets every night. Not that you stalked him or anything, it was just something you noticed, hard not to notice when a body like that is covered in sweat.

Logan growled, he could hear your rapid heartbeat from the other side of the hall. Sure he had guesses on what you were thinking about, most of them containing fewer clothes. As much as he craved to feel his skin on your own he stayed away, animals aren't friendly, they bite and they tear flesh.

Rabid dogs are not your friends.

Breakfast was quiet that morning, warm coffee and hot food covered the counters yet, silence was the only company in the room. It was comforting and unsettling all in one, had Logan left? Even if he had, Charles and Erik would be around, you could ask them for company, though playing chess wasn't exactly your favourite pass time.

"Mornin' bub. You have a nightmare or something last night?"

You practically jumped out of your skin barely swallowing your coffee before choking on air. "Logan, fucksake." A smirk blossomed on his cheeks making annoyance bubble in your veins, it wasn't a direct attack but it was an attack nonetheless. He had already noticed the stress coursing through your body like it belonged there, but it didn't if anything he belonged there.

The other man didn't say anything after that, simply grabbing a handful of bacon and eating it all in one go. It reminded you of a dog, a stray that hasn't gotten to be properly safe, properly at home. In some capacity you worried, not that it got you far, Logan was already pulling away the second he saw that look in your eyes. The one that always ended in death.

"They said you never left my side after the prison, even though I was out I could feel your presence."

That feeling swallowed the room again, the feeling of vulnerability swallowing everything in its wake. You were saying things too open, letting Logan see so deeply into your rib cage, this was wrong. He was going to find out. "Didn't trust anyone else lookin' after you. I mean yeah they're our team but they ain’t know you."

That's right, Logan knew you. He saw you.

A dog, an ever loyal mutt that never left and always jumped to conclusions at the sight of what it feared. A monster that bit and growled at anything that came near it, an animal that had no place amongst people.

"Does it hurt?" A small question to fill the ever growing silence. Logan could've played dumb, but it was a reoccurring question that surrounded his knuckles like small needles stabbing into his flesh. It was hard to get used to a pain when everyone around you reminded you of it, of what it was, what it made you.

Once again silence took over the room, he didn't respond, maybe he didn't want to talk about it. Or if he spoke about it, he would crumble, that years and years of pain, of loss would come pouring out of his heart into your palms. Which he never wanted to subject someone to, no one should have to see what he saw, to feel what he felt. What he feels.

Logan watched your face contort to a frown, guilt filling your features. "You probably get asked that all the time huh. Shitty thing to ask, sorry." The second an apology came from your parted lips he felt his teeth stab into his bottom lip, a growl filling his throat but alas, moments end.

"Ah good morning, a tree fell last night amidst the storm. Could you two clean it up? Scott and Jean need it to be clear to land."

Charles voice was gentle within the mess inside your mind, almost comforting. Though now you and Logan were going to be outside cleaning, alone together in an awkward silence. Anxiety welled up inside your gut as the silence continued, though now you both were outside picking up various sticks, branches and leaves.

Had you really offended him this much? In moments like these you wished to have a more useful mutation, one that would help you see things normal eyes couldn't. Someone else's thoughts, someone else's feelings..

"It's like a reminder, that no matter what I do, who I save. Who I let die, no matter how much I grow, I'm still a mutant and will forever be the animal I was made into." Your lips lifted at the sound of his voice only to drop back down into the anxiety filled frown at the weight of his words. If anyone understood what it felt like to be an animal. It was him.

Logan shook his head and continued to move the tree parts away from the landing zone, he was letting you in, prying his ribs open just a sliver to let you see what remained inside.

"I don't think you're an animal.. I think, you think it's impossible to be anything more than that. Doing bad things doesn't make you a bad person, I don't think you're bad." Your heart was steering you toward him before your brain could figure out if this was a bad idea or not, this was another step in the right direction. Maybe despite how things were outside of the quiet bond of this moment, the relationship you two had formed was more.

Logan stiffened at the feeling of your arms circling around his waist, your face pressing against his spine. If he noticed the deep inhale you took he didn't tell you. Right before you were going to pull away you felt it, his calloused fingers sliding over yours and gripping them.

"Lets hope you ain't wrong bub. For your sake."

The mess had long been cleaned yet neither of you were ready to part, the steps of the school being your resting place. You could still feel it, the warmth of his fingers against your own, the callouses hard against your skin. "I didn't have a nightmare, last night I mean. Earlier you asked, when you scared the living shit outta me."

You didn't know who had made the first move but your fingers linked on the cold pavement, a grounding touch, something that would make the vulnerability you both were showing each other easier. "I was thinking about you. Before you make a dirty joke, no I was not jacking off to you." If you had been jacking off to him it would've made this conversation much easier.

"Jacking off to me? Never woulda thought someone like you would do something like that to the thought of me." Logan mumbled a smirk filling his lips as he turned to gaze at you, his lips looked over every part of your face, lingering at your lips for a split second. If it were possible to roll your eyes so hard they fell out of your skull it would happen now.

Your eyes fell to where you both were connected, fingers laced in a way that screamed intimacy. "I was just wondering about you, if you were heading to bed, worrying if you were okay." Logan was always 'okay' besides the anger that fueled every part of him, besides the longing for what once was.

"Next time come check, might do ya some good to go to bed with a peaceful mind and I won't have to hear you freakin' out anymore." An invitation, a confession, Logan didn't give many people that invite, didn't let people see into his head.

That night you couldn't help but have a repeat of the thoughts from before, wondering if another nightmare had struck him, nerves tight and head racing. Logan had said to come by, to check, to peek in on his life, to see what he hid from everyone else. Yes he had gave you permission to but it felt wrong, why had he given this privilege to you? Yet as you slipped on a jacket, slid out the door and across the hall to his room you gave up on wondering.

Before you could knock you heard it, the rapid breathing, harsh movements, he did in fact end up having another nightmare yet you were here this time. To comfort him, and maybe next time, he could be there to comfort you.

Knock, knock.

"Door's open." You were sure he'd send you on your way, mumble something about being fine but as your hand twisted the knob you realised he meant it. Logan was letting you into the parts of him he kept locked away from everyone, the nightmares, the parts of him he was ashamed of.

You closed the door softly, turning to find him sat on the edge of the bed claws stabbing into the sheets. "Hey.." Logan twitched at the sound of your voice, claws retracting back into his hands, but he didn't turn, didn't further acknowledge your presence. "This time you're the one being loud."

Logan was stiff, panting and sweat drenching his every limb. He looked awful and it made your insides twist. Your hands came to carefully grab his own, not forceful incase he didn't want to be touched, but the second he registered it he gripped yours. "Pretty sure this is the opposite of me giving you peace of mind."

He was right but you'd rather be here for him then sound asleep in bed thinking he was okay. "I won't stay if you don't want me Logan, but I.. I care." Wolverine turned to you at that, head falling down to stare at the wrinkled sheets between you two. You always were caring, maybe too much, trying your best to help anyone who needed it.

"I ain’t asking you to stay bub, I won’t make you do that. All I mean is that… That if you did for whatever reason that your dumb little head came up with. I wouldn’t push you away."

The next thing he said made the wind still, your heart stop. "I pissed you off because I knew ya'd explode otherwise, Scott said it would only work for so long before you hated me. But.."

Your lips lifted into a surprised smile, he had done it all in an attempt to help, a shitty attempt but it was for a good reason. You opened your mouth to speak but he continued, lifting your hands to his lips as he pressed gentle kisses to each knuckle. "It helped you in the long run but just pissed me off.. I hated seein' you go to someone else."

Giggles escaped your lips as you leaned back, how foolish he was. "Would it help if I said I wanted your comfort more than anyone else's?" Suddenly the worry of vulnerability was long gone, now replaced with the deep feeling of love and longing. Logan's eyes widened so far you were slightly worried for the sockets that held them.

"You're tellin' me.. This whole time you were wantin' me and I had no idea?"

The giggles turned into full blown laughter now, how stupid were you and Logan to dance around one another like teenagers who were afraid of their parents. "Scott was right you could've just talked to me." You both let go of each other and shuffled further onto the bed, laying to stare at one another.

Silence filled the room while you both looked at the other to make the next move, a night full of confessions now only needed the gentle touch of each others skin to complete it. You moved first, soft skin sliding to caress his cheek, at first he froze but inevitably leaned into it, pressing a soft kiss to the palm.

As you shuffled forward Logan's fangs poked out more, excitement filling his stomach, he was finally going to kiss you. And kiss you he did. His lips were chapped but gentle against your own, he was testing the waters, but trying to hold himself back at the same time. If Logan had it his way, he'd be tackling you into the mattress right now, biting his marks into your skin.

Perhaps nightmares would be less of an issue if he had you in his bed every night, pressed against his chest murmuring how much you wanted this. "Does this mean you'll stop going to that furball for advice?"

"Does this mean you'll tell Scott he was right?"

Logan huffed, teeth poking into your lip as he tugged on it. No he wouldn't tell slim shit, well maybe make dirty jokes about you now that you two were an item. Were you? "So.. Are we.."

A man so old and so hurt now so soft with the light of love right in front of him. "Yes, I'm yours."

[jessebloom]

how it feels having to write what you want to read

[sylusizhere]

IM TIRED.

[steelpaperboats]

~ Boy, Tell Me How You Feel

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x ftm!reader Rating: T Word Count: 6051 Synopsis: You take Zemo home to meet your family. It ends as you expect it to, in disaster.

Content Tags: ftm reader, pre-medical transition reader, hurt and comfort, angst, family trauma, unhealthy parents, transphobia, american reader

Some children are born into loving families. You know this for certain even though you've never seen it firsthand because Helmut exists. Not to say he had a good home; his father was a strict man. An iron fist kind of man. 

No, it's because of Carl and the look of pure unrecoverable grief that crosses Helmut's face whenever he thinks of the son he could not save. Of the wife you choose not to view as competition but instead as a part of him that should be loved and tended to. It would be terribly petty for you to think you should compete with a dead woman. 

But you know that childhoods are important, parents play roles, and siblings nurture or set fire to parts of their siblings. 

So though you don't want to introduce Zemo to that side of your life, you also know that avoiding it forever isn't going to make it any easier for anyone in the long run. 

It's not like he's the kind of man you'd be ashamed of bringing home. He's a wealthy colonel from a foreign country. Intelligent enough to take down a team of Avengers. His manners are immaculate; he's charismatic. No, Helmut isn't the problem. 

You're the problem. 

As far as your family is concerned, you're the resident circus act. You don't talk about your family much, and he knows not to ask. Zemo knows how painful a family can be. So he's surprised when you tell him you'll be going home for the holidays. 

Surprised but acquiescent with joining on the trip. He agrees without needing the push. It's you that nibbles at your fingernails and overthinks the decision the entire time. Helm simply steps in tandem with you, just like he does with all other things. 

Your family home is nothing like his own; there's no grand manor to take him to, just a normal farmhouse in the countryside. A home with siding in need of replacing, an old pickup in the front, and a broken-down one in the back. The swing from your childhood is still hanging in the front yard. It is a far cry from the European properties he is most familiar with. 

American culture has always confused him, so drastically different from his own. So as you pull your rental up the gravel drive to park out of the way of the mailbox, it might as well be that he's stepped into a different world altogether. 

You stay there in your idling car, far too luxurious for this backwater hole. Your hands grip the wheel, tightening and loosening. He understands little about your family, only that you don't get along. Only that going home is like pulling teeth.

You have not told them that they laugh in the face of your transition, that Southern tradition laughs in the face of everything you want to become. You do not have the words. You do not know how to voice the poison that chokes you when you think of home and the people who are supposed to love you the most. 

Unconditional love comes with so many conditions. Some things, you think, may simply have no words. 

You need to turn the car off, but you cannot bring yourself to let go of the wheel. If you let go, then this is real. If you let go, it means getting out of the car; it means going up the semi-rotted front steps into the home where you used to build blocks you thought were castles. 

Something that should be endearing but instead is a cloying disappointment that has wrapped around your limbs like thorned vines. 

Helmut picks up on your anxiety where he sits in the passenger seat with his black button-up and Rolex and pressed trousers. He does not belong in a place like this; he never will. There is no part of him that can match the tall grass and inhospitality colored as kindness. You had to convince him not to wear a full suit. 

His hand comes out against your jeans and squeezes. "How can I help?" He asks, and you wish there was some easy answer you could give him. 

Instead, you flex along the steering wheel again before you let your hands fall in your lap and consider turning the hell around. You swallow hard, glancing down at your plain sweater, the slope of a chest you can't seem to bind tight enough, and the fat of your thighs. 

The urge to scream rises up inside you. 

He likes spoiling you; it's something you never really know how to wrap your mind around. The idea that someone wants to shower you with gifts and praise. The clothing you wear is old, the stuff you put in the back of the closet in a box half forgotten. 

You're not sure why you packed old clothes outside of the desire to step into shoes that no longer fit. Trying to morph into some mold that has never suited. 

Helm leans forward, and you see the first true flash of concern in his dark eyes. It's sinking in. His mind is putting the pieces together as fast as he can, trying to see the picture of who you will become at the end of this. 

"Drahý?" The term of endearment slips from his tongue, and you wish it filled you with the sun like it normally does. Instead, it sounds out of place, like hearing a word you only sort of remember.

The swing in the yard moves in the wind, a barely noticeable rock that catches your attention because it is easier to look at than it is to look at him. Helmut's hand comes out to your jaw and coaxes your gaze away until there's no swing, just him. 

All him. All sun. All home. 

He looks like a soldier, pouty lips and determination scrawled across him. "We can leave." 

You know he means it; you could turn the car right around and head back the way you came, and he would never judge you for it. Not once has he ever tried to guilt you into seeing them or used his dead family as the reason to visit. 

But there's a lot to learn about someone from where they grew up. It's important to you that he sees it, that he understands, even if you don't necessarily even want him to understand. It's a mess; it hasn't even begun yet, and it's a mess. 

His understanding helps you turn off the engine. You take a slow breath through your nose and release it through your mouth. Smelling the roses, blowing out the candles. 

Zemo waits, hand tight to your leg, steady and reliable. He breathes with you, mimicking in that way he does to make you feel less alone. 

"I will be here." He whispers into the silent car, "Before we walk through that door and after it." 

That's what scares you more than anything, that the two of you will walk in there together and walk out separately. That he'll see your terrible family and decide that this isn't what he wants after all. Too much baggage. 

Maybe they'll convince him that you're foolish, caught in your own head. Silly, silly girl. Not a boy at all, no, never a boy. 

In through your nose, out through your mouth. 

You step out of the car and shut the door too hard when you push it closed and find yourself standing there in the gravel. Stopping makes it harder to move again, and yet you can't seem to do anything but stall at every opportunity. 

The other door opens and closes, and Mutt sweeps around the front of the car to stand next to you. When you peek at him, it's enough to lift your spirits, just barely. He stands there at attention, as he's prone to do. Feet level with his shoulders, hands flat behind his back, shoulders squared. 

Your war-torn baron.

"I love you." The words don't come easy, but you force them from your throat anyways. 

His chin lifts a fraction, pride and solid steel. "As I love you." 

Neither of you moves. When you finally break the moment, he is taking the step with you, matching pace despite your smaller size all the way up to the front door. Unlike some children, you don't walk inside; instead, you stop at the door and reach up to knock. 

No one answers, and you are forced to knock again. Helm's hand has somehow found its way to your lower back, resting firmly against your sweater. 

It's your brother who answers the door. He takes one look at you, and then Helmut and his eyebrows shoot up. You should have warned Mutt that you've never brought anyone home before. There's probably a lot you should have warned him about, but it's too late to do so now as you step into the house. 

He follows, allowing you to close the front door. Your voice cracks when you speak, "Brother, meet Helmut, and Helm, meet my brother." 

They stare at each other before Helmut extends a hand for him to shake. He's learned his lesson on American greetings well enough, given that if he kisses anyone else's cheek, you get spitting jealous, which amuses the holy hell out of him. 

Your brother looks at his hand before he clasps his hand into Helm's for a quick shake, letting go too soon. "Mom's irritated you're late." He mumbles, not saying anything to Helmut. 

It's no surprise to you that she's already mad about something. She lives her life in a constant state of endless anxiety that gets thrust upon anyone else in hearing range. You mentioned to them you were bringing your boyfriend, but you're pretty sure they didn't actually believe you. 

As you cross through the foyer into the dining room and see four place settings, you know you were right. They didn't even set the table for him. Helmut, of course, notices it immediately. He eyes the plates before his eyes find yours and soften. 

You want to take him away from this place before it's even begun. He doesn't belong here among the outdated blue paisley wallpaper and your childhood dining room table you laid beneath to cover in stickers that probably never got taken off. 

He looks so out of place there in his creaseless black shirt and gold cuff links, not a hair out of place and the whole world at his feet. His shined loafers do not match the old uneven floorboards. 

The dining room has a wall of picture frames on one side and a clustering of crosses on the other. It's the pictures that catch his attention; he turns, pressing his hands into his pockets as he looks at them. All from when you and your brother were little. 

Some of your brother now that he's older and none of you after you turned eighteen and vanished like smoke. He looks at your baby pictures, the princess costume for Halloween, your prom pictures in a big blue dress, and sweet smiles with blank eyes. 

He presses a finger to one of the frames, a trail of dust catching on his finger. "This one, I like." 

It's you when you're maybe nine or so, completely coated in mud. You've crafted deep trenches in the wet dirt for your brothers' monster trucks, the brightest smile as you look up at the camera. "It looks like you." He whispers and wipes the rest of the frame of dust with his fingers before he rubs his hands together to get rid of the dust. 

"Oh goodness!" Your mother's voice causes you to jump as you turn to see her there in the arched doorway between the kitchen and dining room. "You brought company." 

"I told you I was bringing my boyfriend." You reply, trying not to sound irritated that they haven't even set the table with him in mind. You don't want him to feel unwelcome with so much already stacked up against you. 

Your mom blinks. "I thought you were kidding." She turns her head and barks out your brother's name, "Get a plate for your sister's friend!" 

Not his sister. 

Not your friend. 

Mutt steps around the table to hold out a hand just like he did with your brother. "I'm his partner, Helmut Zemo. A pleasure, paní." 

You like the way he says it, sure in the fact of who you are and what he is to you. No hesitation in the words his partner. As your brother passes through the room, you see him wince when Helm says it. 

There's no way this ends in anything less than disaster, but at least your paramour won't have to eat off the fucking bare table. 

Your mother brings her hand into Helmut's, her other curling over the outside as she gives it a shake. This would be easier if she were starry-eyed, but she's a hawk looking for something to pick at already. 

Helm smiles, that sweet smile that works on most people, especially the ones who don't realize what he is capable of. You do. You know he talked his way out of prison. You know he never bothered with a kill count after it hit triple digits. 

They part as your brother awkwardly adds plateware to the spot next to yours that no one ever sits at. The chair there is a little rocky. You want to warn him, whisper in his ear, but your mother is too close, too shrewd. 

"Helmut." She says his name, his accent garbling the sound so it sounds like he's become a bicycle helmet. This at least is an American problem and not just one that's unique to your family, and so it's nothing he hasn't heard before. 

He doesn't bother to correct her pronunciation. Even you are guilty of butchering his name in the beginning. Now it comes without difficulty; now you can say it with flair, low or high, breathy or in mid-laugh. 

He has nicknames: Helm, Zee, and Mutt, and then terms of endearment on top of it. You're always a little happier when you're talking to him, no matter what you're calling him. 

"What is that?" Your mom asks, blinking at him, "Where's it from?" 

His accent is camouflaged, not nearly as heavy as you know it to actually be. Helm's accent comes out when he's passionate, when he's chattering away late at night, exasperated, angry, when he's teasing, or early in the morning, rough from sleep. 

When he's in public, you watch it get tucked away behind the facade he lets the rest of the world see—Baron Zemo. But his accent is still there enough that he couldn't pass as a native unless he's first generation. 

He could get rid of it entirely; you've heard him speak in a clear, sharp New York-style accent, in sharp German, in several other languages, and even some Wakandan. Helm chooses not to hide his accent; you love that about him. 

"Sokovia." He replies, and you both hate and adore the pride in his voice. 

Your mom pauses. You watch her process the information, blink, and frown, and then it all comes together. "Why, that's that country that blew up, isn't it?" 

All of the tact of a grenade. You flinch. Helmut stills, fingers twitching at his sides. The worst day of his life, all rolled up into two neat words, blew up. 

"Mom," You chastise, because what the hell do you say to a question like that? 

"What? I was just asking." 

Helmut shifts from foot to foot. Before he can try and fill that violent silence, your father walks into the room. 

He looks between the four of you, your brother straightening Helm's spoon. "Was wondering what the ruckus was in here." He eyes Helm from top to bottom like a call girl. "This the boyfriend?" 

"Yes, pane," Helmut holds out a hand to him too. You'll give it to him; he's thorough. "That would be me." 

Your father follows through with the handshake, a nice, firm grip. That's his way; he thinks gripping the hell out of someone's hand for no reason other than to pretend he's the bigger ape is the best way to go about things. 

"Pane." He says it like a cooking utensil, "What is that, German?" 

Helmut says, "Sokovian." 

The exact moment your mother says, "That country the Avengers fought in." 

Your flinch this time might as well count for double. Zemo pulls from your father's hand and slides it into his pocket. His wedding ring still on his right-hand finger. 

"You kept us waiting." Your mom sets you with a long, disapproving look. "Everyone sit, and us girls will bring out the food before it needs to be reheated."

Something like shame curls in your chest like a long-dormant eel come alive in your stomach acid. You swallow, give Helmut a nod, and slip around the table to help carry the food out. 

The moment you're in the kitchen, your mother is on you like a fly on shit. "He's a little odd." 

"You've known him for two minutes." You say, reaching for the casserole dish. Despite her complaints, when you grab the glass, it's bordering on uncomfortably hot. 

"It's an odd name, that's all." Your mom collects the much lighter salad bowl. "Those Europeans can be a little strange."

"That's a lot of people you're lumping together right there." You reply without missing a beat. "America is a country of immigrants, ma." 

She huffs, because what God-fearing American would ever want the reminder that they didn't sprout out of North American soil like gnomes? The two of you carry the food out, and to your amusement, Helmut, unlike your father and brother, remains politely standing. 

It's not until you arrive and he pulls your chair out for you that he sits down. You're pretty sure that if your mom hadn't said blown up he would have pulled her chair out too. 

The food gets passed around, drinks are poured, and thank yous are muttered, and then comes the dreaded small talk, and given the way they've started, they'll have the tact of a chainsaw through a tree. 

"So, Helmet." Your father starts the game of questions, "This your first time in the States?" 

You fight the urge to correct his pronunciation, but Helm's hand is on your leg beneath the table. "No." He shakes his head. "I'm a bit of a traveler, but New York and DC mostly." 

You cough into your water. They would all shit bricks if they knew what he'd been doing there. His fingers playfully squeeze your leg.

Your old man eyes Zemo's nice clothing and his combed hair. "You work in foreign relations or something?" 

"No." Your boyfriend brings his cup up to his lips and looks ten times richer than everyone in the room, even drinking out of a plastic cup. "I was a colonel; I spent most of my life serving my country."

Past tense—was serving. 

"Ah." Your mom nods, between bites of her salad, "Suppose all that went away when they got rid of it." 

His hand tightens on your leg, and it's the first sign of genuine annoyance. "Annexed, yes." He says.

"That's a fancy word for it." Your father adds, sawing at his chicken with a butter knife. Your mother was never a very good cook. 

"Well." Helm takes a small bite, finishing it before speaking, "I am retired now." 

Retired from Eko Scorpion, but not so retired from the world of superheroes and protecting the innocent. He keeps himself busy with the Thunderbolts. You're proud of him for never backing down. 

"Did they pay you for all that?" Your father asks.

You don't actually know. You doubt even Mutt knows the specifics; those days were dark for him. It wasn't until years later that he was able to put resources back into helping the Sokovian people. The blood fog took a long time to lift, leaving permanent red in the corners. 

Really, you don't think things changed for him until Bucky came back. Something you personally feel grateful for—that's why you know Mutt. That's why you have him to rely on. 

"Not me." He shakes his head, pushing the food around on the plate. He doesn't like it."But I know there were organizations that came to supply aid. I was ... preoccupied at the time."

"Is the barn still standing?" You ask, trying to steer them away from the inevitable mention of Carl and Heike that you don't want to give them. They don't need to know about that part of his life; they don't need that kind of power, because whether he loves you or not, you know when it comes to them, Helmut will always be a fuse lit from both ends. 

"Yeah." Your brother answers, "There are four cats now; she had kittens." 

A much easier topic. "You name them?" 

He shakes his head no. 

"Surprised a fella your age can retire."

You silently chew your chicken and rest your hand over Helms. Outside of directly cutting in, which you're not against doing, there's clearly no changing your father's one-track mind. Not unless you give him a bigger target like yourself to question. 

You know what would do it, just mention your transition, and the whole table will suddenly spontaneously combust into a blazing fire. 

Mutt hums and takes another bite as he stews over his answer. He could jump to the chase and state that he has an insane amount of generational wealth, or he could mention his ten years in prison. Hell, he could outwardly lie to your father's face, which is what you would do. 

"I'm a baron." Helm says, and you eye your family curiously. They've never had anyone filthy rich over for dinner. Helmut has been your first taste of real wealth; even now it's hard to wrap your head around. 

"That some kind of retirement plan?" 

You were raised by idiots. You sigh into your unseasoned mashed potato casserole. 

Your paramour takes another bite of his food; you're pretty sure he's using the dry chicken to process each answer. "Nobility." He explains. "I come from a long line of Sokovian aristocracy. When Novi Grad fell, I lost - I lost the family estate but not my wealth. I have not had financial difficulty; however, many of my people cannot say the same. The annexation of Sokovia already displaced its people; the Blip decimated the rest." 

Even now you're not entirely sure if getting blipped was a good or a bad thing. Zemo spent those five years resolutely in a cell; you spent them somewhere. Existing in the shade of a second before everything returned and was gone and back again. 

"You're rich?" Your brother asks and cuts it down to a simple yes or no. 

Helm has more grace where your brother is concerned, it would seem, because his lip tips up in the corner. "Exactly so." 

"Like you could buy me a car?" 

Your mother says your brother's name, sharp and quiet, "It's rude to ask a man for money." 

Out of the three members of your family, you bear the least ill will toward your brother, but you would not call your relationship close. No, he's too far involved with your father's thoughts and ideas for that. But you're not fond of bailing anyone out.

Perhaps that's petty, but years of being pressed into a cookie-cutter mold have made you sharp along the edges where you've cracked. 

"In theory, certainly." He gives your brother a smile that sort of reaches his eyes. "My family actually has an expansive car collection, most of which were salvageable from the wreckage." 

You love his collection, have driven several, fogged up several, and sat in many passenger seats. You have the keys to a vintage El Camino that you're particularly fond of. As far as he's concerned, it's your car. 

The spark in your brother has more to do with what he might be able to take and less about Helm or you at all. He sees an opportunity, and that's as far as he sees. 

"A baron." Your father's voice has that casual edge to it that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. "And you settle down with a country girl. Can't tell if you're unlucky or she's lucky." 

Helm blinks, and for one delicious moment in which your love for him expands like heat in a hot air balloon, he looks genuinely confused about who is being talked about. And then it sinks in like a diagnosis. 

"Pardon?" Helm asks, accent hanging heavy along the word. 

"Just surprised with how you two met?" Your dad's confused now too, thrown off by the need to clarify. 

You think Helm might be the cleverest son of a bitch in the whole world, but especially in this small musty room. 

"Ah, that is a tale." He looks over at you and smiles. This time it's genuine. "He came into my life unexpectedly, the way I've found the best things often do." 

"So you've ... bought into all that?" Your mother asks, and any joy at telling what would have otherwise been a happy story dries up until it's nothing but the burning in the back of your throat. 

Helm straightens, near imperceptibly, but the hand on your leg remains. "I don't catch your meaning." 

Your parents share a look before deciding on Christian love. "That transsexual nonsense." 

His tongue trails out along the bottom of his lip, and this time when he takes a bite, you know for certain that he's using the time to gather up his thoughts. Everything Helmut does is intentional; he is a well-intentioned man by his very nature. 

You know this too; he will approach like a battle. "So it is to my understanding then," He sets his fork down, and your dad's eyes go sharp. At least you don't have to worry about Helm losing in a fistfight. "That you do not respect your son?" 

This is new. You've never had anyone defend you to your family before. Anyone who knew about your transition when they were around always rolled with it, pretended it was fine, and apologized afterward. Not your Mutt. 

"Respect him plenty." Your father says and nods his head toward your brother, who is very much attempting to make friends with his chicken breast. "If you're talkin' about my daughter, she could use a few pointers." 

You've told people to get fucked, flipped them off, and walked out on dates. You've been unabashedly yourself for years now, making steps toward who you want to be, and somehow the moment you sit at this table, you become nothing but the little girl who hid in her room.

No anger, no irritation, only a blanketed cold resignation that this is the way it will always be. 

You underestimate how much Colonel Baron Helmut Zemo loves you. 

"You know," Helm stops eating, leans back in his rickety chair, and all out pushes the food away. "In many cultures, transformation is seen as something remarkable. Something to be celebrated. Sokovia has its own legends and stories that further this. Perhaps even we could consider Christ, risen and changed, yes?" 

Your hand comes to squeeze his where it's still on your leg, not really a warning. You're not sure what you mean by it other than the desire to hold him. To cling to the one thing that is yours in this hollow place.

"You're in my home." Your father says, like he has a castle. Like he is king to all the wheat fields. Messiah of the weeds. 

Helm pushes his chair back. "Frankly, I do not give a damn." 

Your brother releases a squeak of a sound at that before he goes back to his plate. Your parents are starting to look exceptionally offended, which really you saw coming. It's not like you didn't expect all of this, but you hoped maybe, just maybe, there would be change. 

But your childhood home is a time capsule that no longer suits you. The shoes no longer fit, outgrown and torn soles. 

"I am a father." Helmut says with such vitriol as he stands that you can't help but stare at him in something that might just be wonder. "And I am incapable of understanding you. If my son needed this, needed to change to feel whole, then I would be the first person to help him do so. What is a legacy when you have failed your children, when you raise a sheep of a boy on one hand and Atlas on the other?" 

He pushes in his chair hard enough that it smacks into the table before he offers his hand to you. "Come, drahý. We are leaving. I will not subject you to such idiocy." 

Your old man stands, masculinity challenged by Helmut's dismissal. "You come into my house, insult me at my table. That shit doesn't fly around here." 

Zemo doesn't move his hand, waiting for you to take it, but he does turn to look in your father's direction, head cocking to the side. Like he's looking at a bug. 

"That is not a fight you win." Helm's voice is ripe with warning you know to be completely true. He is a soldier, a Thunderbolt; he does not bow to lesser men. 

You take his hand, lifting yourself from your chair. To keep him from acting out on the aggression curled through his body, you curl your fingers between his. It's no surprise that Helmut is protective, but you've never really had the chance to see it in action until now. 

"Let's go." You whisper. The fatigue drapes down on your shoulders, and suddenly all you want to do is run away and sleep. 

Across the table your mother stands, all tears and broken heart on her sleeve. Forever ready to let the world know how she's suffered, whereas you stand stony-faced and quiet. "I just wanted a nice meal. A family dinner with my little girl. You ruin it. You always ruin it." 

Your dead name long buried lashes across your face as she says it. And you are so very tired. 

Helm's free hand snaps out in a slash in front of him, "To hell with you and your false desperation. We are leaving." 

He pulls, and all you can do is follow, eyes on the threadbare runner as he leads you back out the front door. Your father follows, and for a moment you expect him to attack Helmut, but instead his hand comes hard to your shoulder and jerks you back.

You let out a startled noise, hand slipping from Helm's as you try to shrug away from his hard grip. Zemo pivots, and there's a wild look in his eye, some abject triggered panic that you know has less to do with you but instead has to do with forty-eight hours of digging through rubble.

He swings before you can tell him not to, clocking your old man hard in the jaw. He sprawls out onto the foyer floor, and you jump into action, hands pressing to Helmut's chest, easing him backward, "I'm here. I'm here." 

He doesn't see you, not at first. "Helm, love, Helmut. I'm here. I'm safe. We need to go." 

Your mom might call the cops, and it's imperative that the cops keep thinking of him as a hero and not a criminal. You're not going to lose him to the system, back to the Raft. 

He blinks and the haze clears; he frowns, looking over your shoulder back at your father. He's pulled himself off the floor, holding to the doorjamb as he glares out at the two of you. 

"Don't come back," His voice is harsh, cutting through you like a freezing winter wind: "If you're with him, living the life you been living. Don't come back until you're the daughter I raised." 

Even this does not feel unexpected. Helm shoves into your hands, and you know if you let him go he'll beat your father bloody in his own house. So you don't let go, leading him back into the car. You practically shove him into the passenger seat and toss yourself into the driver's side.

Your hand is shaking as you turn the key, stalling the engine. It takes longer than it should to pull out of the long gravel drive, your father's silhouette in the doorway until you hit the road and drive out of sight. 

As you drive, you white-knuckle the wheel to keep the shaking at a minimum. It starts in increments; at first the road gets blurry, and then your breath gets shorter. Instead of breathing, you wheeze, eyes burning. The world falls underwater. 

"Pull over." Helm's voice leaves no room for argument. He sounds like he wants to walk back to the house and attempt to solve this with his hands. 

You do as you're told, pulling next to a cornfield, letting go of the wheel. You forget to put it in park and roll forward through the grass until Helmut slams it into gear. 

Everything swims; don't take a full breath, or you'll drown. It gets hard to take in any air. Your body fights the natural instinct. With your eyes squeezed shut, you only hear the click of your seat belt being undone before there are hands on you, catching you under your arms, and then it's a scramble. Somehow you end up yanked over the median, your foot almost hitting the car horn before you're in his lap. 

He's speaking Sokovian; you don't know much of his native tongue, only a few words here and there. Swears, common phrases, "I love you, things like that. The words are fast, tumbling out of him, and you think he needs to say whatever he's trying to say, even if you don't understand it. 

There are some things that don't translate well, and he's running into that now. You catch a few words, mainly cursing. Fucking bastards. Sorry. Fuck. I love you. That's all you really get. 

It's not until he's stopped speaking his long train of words that you realize your breathing has evened out, so distracted with trying to understand what he was saying that he cut the panic attack off before it could fully sink into your bones and weigh you down to the bottom of the lake. 

The look in his eyes when you glance up at him says that was his intention, because when you lock eyes, he smiles, relief on the edges of it. "There you are." 

You nuzzle into his shirt, feeling the warmth of him through the fabric, catching the scent of his cologne. All of it sinks the tension from your bones until all that's left is the sinking realization of what just happened. 

"You're all I have." You whisper, even if that was mostly true to begin with, it is certainly a complete fact now. 

His arms tighten around you. "To je mi líto." 

You bury your face in his chest and let the world disappear. It's not like you want to be this way. You don't want to be displaced from what you are and aren't. You never asked to have to change to survive.

That's what your parents never understood; if you could stay a girl and be happy, you would. It would be a fucking relief to fit into the right mold without having to rip apart chunks of yourself to make it all fit. 

Helm says your name, soft and quiet, like an apology, and his grip pulls you all the closer. "Life has a habit of lacking fairness." He murmurs, "But I see you, beloved; I see you completely. And I am not ashamed." 

You let out a shaky breath into his shirt and nod. "Thank you." It barely sounds genuine with how bone tired you are, but you mean it. "For coming with me." 

His hand cards through your hair, and you know despite everything that it's going to be okay. "For you, I would go anywhere." 

[sylusizhere]

i’ve read this over three times now and i have absolutely no words. this is something we need more of, zemo and content like this. thank you.

[sylusizhere]

'Cause I'm still the same, but only entirely different

ღ. # synopsis ─ learning to love what he's become when he know's full well it isn't what he ever wanted to be.. is difficult. (gn!reader)

ღ. # warning's ─ mentions of past trauma, violence and nightmares. ღ. # 690 Words

It terrified him, the idea that maybe in his sleep he could snap your neck, that he would wake up and see your lifeless body laid next to him as if it was meant to be this way. As if he was the reason for your death in every universe because he was set up for failure. The bed was warm, sheets tangled around you and your limbs, you were dead asleep and had been.

Silence was his best friend, especially when he looked down at his hands, seeing the smooth metal instead of calloused skin. He'd never get used to it, he hated that they were apart of him and forever would be, that what he had went through would forever be imprinted upon his body. Bucky knew you loved his metal arm, for sex, for a comfort during hot days but he knew you were well aware the danger it held.

He looked over, feeling his lips lift into a small smile, you were drooling on your pillow, one of his t-shirts hugging your torso. Even if he was a weapon he felt like if anything could handle him with gentleness rather than violence it would be you. "What're you starin' at?" Your eyes were open now, slightly, he could barely see your pupils from between your lashes.

"Nothing, just.. Go back to sleep." The blatant lie from between his teeth woke you up faster than anything else could've. You wiped your eyes and sat up before taking his hands in your own.

"Buck.." James' eyes drifted to your fingers laced with his metal ones, it looked wrong, seeing you hold something so evil with care. Yet it felt so right, you always felt right. As if you could see the issue you lifted that same hand to your lips, pressing gentle kisses to the metallic knuckles. Love wasn't something he had to crave anymore, you were here and bursting with the love you had for him.

Watching Bucky freeze, eyes staring at where your lips had touched him made your heart hurt, you then moved his hand to cup your cheek. You trusted him, he wasn't that man anymore, now he was a loving boyfriend who still dealt with the trauma he once drowned in. A weapon, a violent, evil human shouldn't be touched so gently, shouldn't be loved so fully. Someone once said to him, sure some of him still believed it, still thought it was true, but the front of his brain melted at the love you gave.

"I.. I had a nightmare. That I hurt you.. That I killed you." His voice cracked at the confession, it destroyed you, that the man you loved had to deal with his mind conjuring up such things. "I must've done it in my sleep, or couldn't remember it. I woke up, smiling because I had a date planned but the bed was cold." You nodded, scooting closer to fill the empty space with the warmth of your body.

"At first I thought you might've been in the bathroom, until the blanket wouldn't move as if someone was laying on it, then I realised. I looked over and... And.." Tears filled his eyes then small sniffles came as he continued. "You were dead, there were still marks on your neck from where I choked you."

For a moment you didn't respond, letting the warmth of your palms caress his cheeks. "That isn't you anymore. I know it could be, I know that, that scenario could potentially happen. But do you know what else I fully know?" Tears fell down his cheeks as he watched you speak, Bucky wasn't a vulnerable man, he didn't cry to people, and like hell if he trusted someone.

"I know that you are more than that, more than The Winter Solider, more than what they made you. You're my boyfriend Buck, remember? Tony made fun of you for weeks once he found out you liked me."

It was true, he remembered it like it was yesterday, maybe.. Maybe he could trust himself when he was with you, maybe he could trust in your trust.

[sylusizhere]

You're part of a machine, you are not a human being

ღ. # synopsis ─ robert, finds out you aren't coming home, in fact you never really existed (male winter solider!reader)

ღ. # warning's ─ curse words I mean... have ya'll played the game.. please be wary of spoilers I don't think there will be but be wary. ღ. # 330 Words

Knowing each other throughout most of his time as Mecha-Man and into some of his time as a dispatcher, you were one of the villain turned hero's he had to dispatch. You were glad to be apart of the phoenix program and be on the Z-Team well you were, and he was glad to have you there, or he was.

Until one shift he sent you off and you never came back, you quickly disappeared from everyone's lives, from files, you seemingly never existed. At first he let other hero's and police forces investigate but when they believed he was crazy, that you truly never existed he had no choice but to do it himself. Robert drove himself mad trying to find you, any sign of you... Any sign of life.

The Z-Team was all he had to back him up that you were real and the time shared was real, that it all happened. But they were shitty villain's who were now trying to be hero's they were still learning. He spent hours, building an evidence board, wracking his brain to try and find any explanation.

Deep down he knew that this was his fault, it could've been avoided had he not sent you on that mission, he knew it was risky, and yet he sent you alone. Robert remembered how sweet you sounded, how confident you were that you could do it all on your own, you were willing to prove yourself. "Don't sweat it, I got this. Put me in."

At the very least had he sent someone with you, they might've been able to stop this, or he'd at the very least have you at his side. "Bitch boy, it's no use. He's gone, if whomever put all this effort into erasing him from existence he's most likely dead. Alright?" Flambae spoke but it fell on deaf ears, he ignored him.

He would find you no matter what it took.

SUPER SMALL THING AS AN APOLOGY FOR DYING - Sy

[sylusizhere]

For me, it's always like this.

ღ. # synopsis ─ geto and you finally make a move to get out of the depression that overtook you both. (gn!Reader)

ღ. # warning's ─ smoking, depression and chronic pain. ღ. # 500 Words

The air was stagnant, despite the window being open nothing had moved, not you, not suguru, not the wind. It was stuffy and suffocating, you both knew it was wrong and you both needed to move, but at least you both were struggling together. “Suguru.. Can we smoke?”

The question was still in the air for a moment as he remained unmoving before he slowly, very slowly moved to sit up. Each time a bone cracked he groaned softly, pain filling his features. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have made you move.” You said following his movements and wincing at the pain in your back.

“T’s fine.”

He fished around the bedside table finding the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out and lit it. Suguru handed it to you first, half lidded eyes watching as you took a drag. For the first time in ages it felt peaceful to be alive.

“I’m sorry I’m not pushing you to get better.” Your voice as small, throat dry as the taste of the cigarette melted into your flesh. Suguru was quiet, just the gentle swish of wind as you passed the smoke back and forth.

“Pushing won’t help. You being here makes it easier to breathe however.” It was the longest sentence either of you had said to each other in hours, days? Weeks? And hearing his voice properly made your heart skip, you missed him. His gentle voice, his thin fingers, despite it all he was still yours and you were still his.

You hummed leaning further into him, his skin was warm against your own and the birds chirping outside almost made you appreciate life. “I’ve missed us.” Suguru smiled, head turning to press a kiss into your hair which forced a violent crack from his neck. He let out a hiss and groaned in annoyance against your head.

“We need to stretch.” He mumbled moving to stand which led to every bone in his body cracking. The cigarette was stiff between his lips as he inhaled and held it. Suguru Geto was beautiful, deep in a hole of depression with you by his side. Life moving violently outside but you both still managed to live despite being unable to catch up.

His hand outstretched to you, offering you something to grab as you got up, he knew how weak your knees were every time you got up. He remembered. You took it and stood wincing at the cracking that filled the room, even as you took the cigarette and a drag from it you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped you. “We sound like popcorn in the microwave.”

“Popcorn sounds nice..” Before you could agree he was already stumbling out the bedroom door, feet hitting the floor heavily as his knees shook. You both were going to fall, whether it be from dragging each other down to the floor or from how weak your bones were. It didn’t matter, because you’d be together.

[keiosity]

Office crush | Dispatch

CONTENT: You're a Dispatcher from another program. What happens when you catch the eye of the Phoenixes? Or how the Z-team acts when they have a crush on you <3

RATING: SFW

INCLUDES: Gender-neutral reader, Robert Robertson, Invisigal, Waterboy, Flambae, Prism, Punch Up, Coupé, Golem, Sonar, Malevola

────────────── ★ ───────────────

ROBERT ROBERTSON

Oh, he has enough problems to deal with. Mostly from his own program. So why the fuck is he thinking about someone from another?

The first time he encountered you was in the break room, when you were cursing the damn stupid fucking coffee maker that won't work and he helped you out by plugging the unplugged cord.

He'll never forget how your eyes widened, lips parting in disbelief, before you turned to face him and he almost sputtered in shock when he saw your face fully. You told him it was the stress from your program getting to you, and Robert could barely contain his amused smile at that.

After a short introduction and an embarrassing apology, Robert watched you leave the room with a dangerous curiosity curling in his chest.

He quickly finds out you're another Dispatcher in their branch, but how come he's never seen you before? As if a flip has been switched, he begins to notice you every time now.

He gets distracted when he hears your voice cutting through the channel, providing him assistance whenever his program needs it.

He always bumps into you during morning coffee runs, almost spilling his coffee on you one too many times. Or vice versa.

The two of you are the only ones ending the shifts late, and he purposefully slows tidying up his desk just so he could wait for you to finish.

He wonders if you were a former hero like him, and spends his free time obsessively analyzing you from across the room just to guess which one were you.

It got to the point Chase notices it, and Robert has never lived a day without his former babysitter now mentor teasing the ever life of him.

Whenever the two of you end your shifts late again, Robert waits until you're done and walks up to you with Beef in his arms. Then, he'll ask if he could walk you home, just to make sure you get home safe, and lights up when you agree—for the third time.

He brings you coffee every morning, just the way you like it. He gives you advice and spends late night conversations walking home, wanting to stretch the hours just so he could spend more time with you.

Z-team already caught on before he knew it, and every single one of them makes his life a living hell by pulling the most embarrassing things at work just to tease him.

Chase even comments about, "Next thing I know, you're gonna fucking settle down and start the fourth Robert Robertson with them." But somehow, that thought doesn't seem too bad in his mind.

────────────── ★ ───────────────

INVISIGAL

Oh, she would be the most annoying bitch in the building.

You know how cats are? Actively seek your attention, purr in delight when they get it, just to act all hissy and avoid you for the rest of the day when you spoil them too much. In the end, they'll continue coming back for more because they're so curious.

Yeah, it's like that for Visi.

She'd have this stalkerish tendencies of following you whenever you go while invisible, just to know what places you like to visit or what food you eat.

She'll leave snacks on your desk, the ones she found out while following you, but never tells you it's from her. Just watches from the corner you look around the room, confused, while she tells you to eat the fucking thing in her mind.

Following that cat-like behavior, she'll also leave you random gifts she has stolen from different shops. The exact ones that she saw you eyeing through a glass window, or heard from a conversation with another Dispatcher.

Wants to desperately talk to you, but figured you're busy with your own program so she settles on staring at you while Robert hasn't called for her yet.

The time she finally gets to talk to you was when Robert was talking to you first, and she casually slides into the conversation, ignoring Robert's baffled expression.

When you laugh at one of her jokes, Visi took that as a cue and proceeds to steal you away from Robert. Then, chaos ensues.

She begins to hover, appearing out of nowhere just to surprise you. Especially in the most inconvenient times, which happens to be her favorite. She does it one time when you're changing in the locker room, and has the audacity to laugh at your terrified expression while you're half-naked on the floor.

And god, the sex jokes. They never stop. At first she does it for shits and giggles, until she starts to drop more and more around you. To the point when you finally reciprocate it, catching her off guard and flustered for once.

Whenever you feel someone's staring at you, it's most likely Visi. Just standing there at the corner whenever you're on shift, staring and waiting, with that dark indecipherable glint in her eye.

She also does not shy away from checking you out. Continuing to do so even after you catch her and call her out. She just gives you this coy smirk and wink, before she disappears from sight.

Clings to you for the rest of her remaining free time, just chatting, yapping, and teasing. When she jokes about you taking her on a date, you agree casually. She freezes and gives you this wide-eyed stare, before vanishing yet again.

After a long day and shift, you're just about to leave the building and head home when you feel an invisible tug on your arm and see Visi manifesting there—grinning up at you.

"You still owe me that date, casanova."

────────────── ★ ───────────────

WATERBOY

Oh, the poor guy's a goner the moment he develops a crush. And he's terribly obvious with it.

I can't decide between two HCS of him. Either he's clinging to the person he likes or entirely avoiding them (much like in my waterboy fanfic), but for now let's HC him as both.

During his time as a janitor, he'll avoid you at all costs. Because he thinks you're way out of his league, and he's just a nobody cleaning after everyone's mess. But what made him like you instantly was your politeness.

Even when it was his job to clean up, you always made sure to tidy around a bit to save him some trouble. He'll approach you, shaking and nervous, telling you how you didn't need to do that and you shouldn't bother with it.

Instead of disregarding him, you just gave him a soft smile and told him you didn't mind. "I've seen you working hard around here, you deserve some help too. And in case no one has told you yet, thank you."

Oh, heart eyes behind his goggles. Next to Robert, you're the second person to acknowledge him with kindness and patience. It's the bare minimum, but after a long time of enduring bullying, being taken for granted, and not being recognized—it was like a beacon of hope.

He asks the first person he trusts for advice, Robert, about how to have more confidence and not make a fool of himself around you. But even after receiving a few advice, Waterboy still cannot work up the courage to talk to you.

It's only after Robert chose him to be a part of the Z-team when Waterboy builds a little more confidence in himself. Maybe because the others have been a bad influence on him, but he sees it as a good thing.

The next time he talks to you, he doesn't stutter as much. He still gets nervous, terribly nervous, but somehow your comforting energy calms him. He doesn't see any malice or judgement in your eyes, you welcome his presence whenever you're eating in the break room.

He also greatly admires your skills as a Dispatcher, being one of the top programs in the branch, and he sometimes wonder how it's like working under you.

And– And not in that way. Maybe.

With his newfound confidence, he's able to initiate more conversations with you. He'll show you pictures of his grandma's cats, bond over your similar interests, and hang around the break room during your free time.

He buys you your favorite snacks and leaves little sentimental notes on your desk. As well as gifts that reminded him of you.

He won't hesitate to clean your desk up, even when you tell him you're perfectly capable of doing it, he still takes the initiative. Not because it's his job, but because he wants to reciprocate the kindness you've given him.

And the entire team is either supportive or disgusted (affectionately) whenever you pass by and greet him with a smile, because this man will turn into a puddle—staring after you dazedly as he waves back with the dreamiest smile you'll ever see him wear.

────────────── ★ ───────────────

FLAMBAE

This guy. God, this guy becomes unbearable.

You know those kinds of people who'll take any and every opportunity to show off in front of their crushes? Yeah, Flambae will absolutely do the most just to get you to notice him.

At first he doesn't notice you. Why would he? He doesn't have the time for others, especially when they're not anywhere near his level.

But then the team goes out for drinks one night, when he sees you there at the bar—still donned in your SDN uniform like Robert—and he gapes in shock because, woah, how come he's never seen you before? Surely, he would've noticed a pretty face like yours around the place.

After downing a shot, he makes his way over—suave, sure of himself, and totally ignoring his team exchanging cash behind him—and slides beside you.

"New around here?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. "Pretty sure I would've seen someone like you before, cuz you're very easy on the eyes. Mind If I buy you a drink, hot stuff?"

He only receives an eye roll, before you grab your drink and smile at him. "Already bought myself one. Try again next time." Then, you slip away towards your booth, leaving him bewildered.

He's not even focused on Prism cheering loudly with cash in hand or Malevola groaning in disappointment in the background, because in his head, the game's only just begun. Oh, it's on.

He immediately locks in on you the moment he sees you at work, headset on your shoulders in that ugly blue uniform that you somehow pull off.

And the show begins. He unironically flexes his muscles every time you pass by, not even sparing him a glance. He stops by your cubicle to strike up a conversation, but it's more like him bragging about his recent missions and how awesome he is, to which you'll always sigh.

Sometimes, he'll ignore Robert's direct orders to stay focused on the mission. Because he'll see you walking around Torrance on your day off, and immediately flies after you. Much to your dismay. At least he became useful carrying all your grocery bags back to your apartment.

It doesn't stop there. If anything, he takes it up a notch and personally asks you out for drinks. Once, twice, until three times isn't enough, and the fourth time involves him dropping off a pack of tacos on your desk—still no luck.

The fifth was when he sees you entering the elevator, and he swiftly slips past the doors just before they shut. The moment you make eye contact, he grins while you sigh again.

"So," He pants, slicks his hair back. "That date? Gonna give me a chance? I promise you, it's gonna be great! Because you're gonna be with me. And I'll make sure it's gonna be awesome."

He expects another rejection, he wouldn't mind trying for a sixth time, but then you sigh again and smile at him. "You know what? Sure, why not? But if it sucks, I'm gonna report you to HR."

Fuck yeah.

────────────── ★ ───────────────

PRISM

One thing about Prism, she likes to shine and let others watch her shine. She'll absolutely let you know if she likes you.

But I feel like she wouldn't approach you at first, she's the type to let others do the first move. She's a popstar after all, not a fan. The others should be the ones approaching her.

And that's what you did. In the break room, she sees you standing at the entrance and feels your stare. Normally, she'll let the moment pass and ignore it. After all, she's used to fans and shit.

But that changes when you approach her, and you reveal that you've been listening to her music recently. Especially during writing up reports late at night. Not as a fan praising their idol, but as a genuine compliment from another person.

And wait, you're actually cute up close. She might just be interested in you after that.

Somehow, after that encounter, Prism starts opening up to you. She'll show up in the office, and starts calling you pet names in front of everyone. Her favorite one is baby, because she enjoys the look of shock and the tiny blush on your face.

Gives you special treatment than her actual fans, makes you listen to her unreleased drafts, and even takes candid photos of you whenever you're busy.

She even starts decorating her vape with embezzled jewels with your initials, thinks it's cool and shows it to you.

She even tweets cryptic things on her page like "god my baby's so cute" "y'all ever wanna drop to your knees and worship a god? not religious, but i might!" or even "looks like I have a new type ;))"

Watch her fans go crazy and try to come up with theories who she's referring to. A whole investigator level type of shit that absolutely amuses her. But really, she only has one target audience. And that's you.

She starts taking more pics of you, actually good ones that compliment your features, and even poses with your face out of the frame to post it. Just to see her fans go wild. She then asks you for your number to send them—smooth, casual, and a total score for her.

You give it to her, and she's immediately spamming you with your pics later that night. Her pics. Song recommendations. Show recommendations. As well as places while following with a "wouldn't it be nice to go here for a date?" message after.

She's not exactly subtle in work either. Blows a kiss in your direction, lets her touch linger on your arm, your shoulder, and back when she's passing. She becomes bolder, wilder, and she's not stopping until she gets what she wants.

Late at night, she's glued to her phone again—scrolling through tweets and current trends—when she sees your contact name (my baby) and opens it to see your message replying to the place she sent for a date idea.

She only laughs and maybe even melts a little when she sees your message, "how about I take you out there sometime?"

────────────── ★ ───────────────

PUNCH UP

His recent break up with Coupé left him considering his romantic preferences afterwards. Not that the relationship was bad, but they were both villains at that time, so it really didn't last long.

For a while, he's not really interested in another relationship. That is until he met you. And shite, he understands why they call it love at first sight.

The first time he sees you is during a conference meeting with the Z-team. You enter the room to call for Blonde Blazer, and Punch Up's jaw literally drops and his eyes widens comically at the sight of you.

He remembers sitting up straighter, trying to appear taller, and fiddles with his mustaches while he sneaks glances in your direction.

On the outside, he appears confident and sure if himself. But deep inside him, he's conscious that someone like you wouldn't be interested in him. Hell, he already expects a rejection.

If only his powers didn't fucking make him shrink to this size, he would've been more forward in courting you. Plus, he figures you wouldn't want to be with someone half your fucking height.

Still, Punch Up can't help but puff up his chest or slick his hair back whenever you cross paths. He'll even compliment you on your work, to which you're surprised at, but you'd smile down at him in gratitude.

That gave him an inkling of hope, you didn't look at him weirdly or find his approach off-putting, so he decides to take a step further.

Starts leaving flowers on your desk. Gives you random compliments and encouragement just in case you need a boost in morale. Brings you coffee—bittersweet and light—when he notices you looking down after a shift.

Totally becomes a gentleman to make up for his lack of height, but the latter part didn't seem to bother you at all. You always thank him with a warm smile that never fails to heat his cheeks and make him feel all giddy.

Like Waterboy, heart eyes every time he sees you. Visibly melts when you smile at him. Grins so wide whenever you make a joke or laugh at his. He quickly becomes your cheerleader and hype man, providing both encouragement and comfort.

He jokingly suggests he could give you some massage after seeing you rolling your shoulders around, lightly bragging about his firm touch and expertise, and is totally shocked when you agree.

Yeah, he's spending the whole time grinning so wide while he's giving you back massage in the break room. Also, glares at everyone who enters and gives him a weird look.

You make him feel like he's normal, like he doesn't need to prove anything just because he's lacking in certain areas. You treat him just the same as everyone, and he actually thinks you're perfect.

He will absolutely do anything to protect you. He may not be the brightest, but hurting you is the last thing on his mind.

────────────── ★ ───────────────

COUPÉ

Contrary to popular belief, Coupé is an absolute flirt—genuinely trying or not—and she has no problem using her charm on everyone. Proven and tested on Sonar and Punch Up. Robert too, if you include that time in Crypto Night.

The first time she sees you in the office, her eyes gleams dangerously like the knives tucked into her wings. You're not even doing anything remotely interesting, but something about you triggers her fascination.

And if you knew Coupé, then that would be a dangerous thing to develop.

Starts gathering more information about you, using her skills as an assassin to remain undetected. And like the crime in her profile, she's a stalker. But then again, that's part of the whole package.

Once she has eyes on something, or someone, she develops an unhealthy fixation on them. Spends so much time lurking, eavesdropping, and stalking just to find more details about you and your life.

She doesn't even know why she became so entranced by you, but all she knew was whoever dares to approach you, they'll have to answer to her.

Okay, yeah. I'm picking up on slight yandere tendencies to her. Something about her screams obsession at first sight, and as an assassin, she never stops until she captures her target.

Or in this case, you.

She memorizes your routine outside SDN, your work and personal schedule, every time you clock in and out of the office. Then, she uses all her gathered information to her advantage.

Meaning, she'll weaponize them into getting your attention.

Going back to the first bullet, she'll use her charm to disarm you the next time you go out for drinks. She's always one step ahead of you, already there in every corner you turn, just so she can make sure her existence is branded into your mind.

Then, after introductions that's where she'll flirt. Gets touchy immediately after a couple of words exchanged. Lightly plays with your hair, strokes your jaw, whispers low in your ear.

An absolute tease once you get close to her. Or rather, once she gets close to you. She always keeps her gaze on you from every corner of the room. Steps in immediately if she detects someone linger too close.

Hey, this might be a bit manipulative to others' taste. But it hasn't stopped her from getting what she wants. Plus, she's not doing anything illegal. She just has a terrible crush on a Dispatcher from another program.

And if you ever say no to her, she'll do whatever it takes to change your mind.

────────────── ★ ───────────────

GOLEM

Golem is a certified green flag, and I will DIE on that hill. Have you heard his voice lines when talking to the girls? Marriage material, honestly.

Okay, I'm gonna be honest, this is gonna be difficult because he literally is a construct. But we're not going past that, we're just going to stick to crushes.

Golem rarely develops any romantic interest in anyone, mostly because he knows he doesn't have any chance with them. Thinks everyone is way out of his league, and they wouldn't want someone like him.

But when it comes to you, he's SMITTEN. This man is my goat right here, he deserves so much love pls. Anyway, he literally stands still like a deer in headlights—you'd actually think he turned into a clay statue—the first time he sees you.

Canonically, he loves listening to music and poetry. So he starts hyperfixating on making playlists and poems with the thought of you. He already has a hundred songs dedicated to you, the Dispatcher from another program, and written at least thirty poems about how you look.

He REALLY wants to show you all the work he's done, but hesitates because what if you think he's being creepy?

Thankfully, maybe because of some miracle, you're the one who approached him during his break time outside the building. His usual spot is by the parking lot, where he'll just sit and listen to his newly made playlist and write poems about everything he sees.

"Whatcha listening to, big guy?"

It takes a lot to scare Golem, but the sound of your voice—soft and curious—startles him. He immediately snaps his gaze towards you, blinks, and just stares. Not saying a word. Totally starstruck as if you're top tier a superhero. Maybe you were in the past.

You apologized for scaring him, but he simply shakes his head and quietly shows you his phone. The current song he's listening to makes your eyes brighten, and he has to stop the clay on his body from physically melting.

He finds out you two have similar tastes in music, and when you ask about what he's writing, he doesn't even hesitate on showing you.

He doesn't even stop you when you get to the ones he's written about you. He later reveals how they're all about you, better get it off of his chest and move on, but he's more surprised to see you smiling.

You told him it's the first time anyone has ever written a poem about you, and he's honestly shocked by that.

Oh, one thing about poets. Once they like you, everything they do will be tied to your name.

────────────── ★ ───────────────

SONAR

God, this fucking pervert. Really, he is a pervert.

But somehow, he manages to keep himself maintained in front of you. Barely. He still likes to let his eyes linger on your body. Once. Twice. Okay, maybe lots of times.

Malevola actually hit him hard on his head after catching him drooling over and eyefucking you, and not wanting to anger her, he promises to keep himself in his best behavior.

Again, barely.

The best thing he can do is resort to his intelligence. Cuz c'mon, not to brag or anything, but he's a Harvard graduate. So, that's gotta impress you right?

Yeah, he was humbled immediately when you just stared at him and proceeded to give a thumbs up. "Cool, man. I mean, I have some friends from there as well. But we're not in touch anymore."

Just when he thinks all hope is lost, you follow up a question on what his majors were. Oh, watch him turn into the most insufferable yapper known to existence. Infodumps intensely, sticks to your side even when you're busy on the job, and just rambles.

He secretly wonders if he's bothering you or you're just accepting everything he's saying because you pity him, but you genuinely seem invested and even quip a comment every once in a while.

Okay, good. Maybe this can work out just fine. Except that his attraction towards you becomes more obvious. He squeaks more around you (a habit when he's nervous) and his ears twitch when he hears you talking, even from across the room.

He asks a lot of questions about you as well. He plays it off as mutual interest, but he desperately wants to know if he truly has a chance with you or if you're way out of his league to even bother to court.

But that's not what seals the deal. It was when he managed to make you laugh at his dry jokes the first time, and he swears it was the best day of his life.

He's actively trying not to overstep his boundaries, also asks about your interests and is genuinely thrilled to discover you have similar ones. Besides drugs and boobs, or maybe you like the second one too, but he's not gonna ask about that. Yet.

Sonar is actually a sweet guy once you get to know him well enough. But not the kind of sweet you typically see on romance stories, but the kind that annoys you at the same time.

But he means well, he's smart enough to know not to fuck this up. It might be his only chance after all. Even Malevola's constant teasing how you're way out of his league, he still continues to impress you with new things day by day.

Sonar now has three favorite things: drugs, boobs, and the new addition, you.

────────────── ★ ───────────────

MALEVOLA

Malevola, much like the other girls, can be a massive flirt if she wants.

But most of the time, it's all just for fun and it's how she normally interacts with others. If she liked them, of course. Platonically or romantically. She does it so naturally, kind of forward at times to the point that it might make others uncomfortable and she doesn't realize it. Or maybe she does, she just continues to do it for her own amusement.

So when she develops a crush on you, oh it's not gonna take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Even Sonar notices it the moment his best friend starts eyeing someone from across the room. Follows her line of sight, sees you getting up from your seat, and immediately says to himself, "Oh, they're so fucked."

"They're about to be," Malevola casually quips, winking at the bat hybrid. "Watch and learn how it's done, batman."

She proceeds to harass charm you during your free time. Literally glides the tip of her tail along the length of your leg as you walk by, startling you completely, before she boldly pins you to the wall and grins deviously at you. "Hey there, cutie. Didn't catch your name before. Mind throwing it?"

All she received was a shocked and scandalized look from you, before you slipped under her arm and walked away—continuing your day as if nothing happened. And the whole time, Sonar was hiding his giggles while recording the whole thing. "Holy shit, that was fucking bad. They're so not impressed, Mal."

But for the demon? That's nothing but a challenge. She just grins wider and crosses her arms. "Playing hard to get, huh? My kinda game."

Now you got yourself a literal demon warrior harassing flirting with you wherever you go. If you think Flambae was extra, this woman is much worse. Pops out of nowhere through her portal and surprises you. Gets really touchy when you're in the break room, arm around your shoulder and leaning so close to your face. Her voice lowers, thickens, and drips with suggestion every time she talks to you.

All the while, both you and Sonar are the victims of this. Especially you. And over time, you get used to her advances, even tolerating her touches to some extent. Toss your own flirtatious remark here and there. But you still jump away when her hands start to wander lower than you'd like, causing you to glare at her and she winks at you.

"I get that your love language is physical touch, but that's straight up harassment." Sonar comments one day, to which Malevola rolls her eyes. "Aren't you like worried about getting reported?"

"I should've been reported already," She retorts, shrugging. "But I wasn't. Something tells me they're interested too."

But for your sake, Malevola downplays all her advances to friendly pats and light flirtation. She's not worried for herself, but she's worried about your reputation. Something she didn't take into consideration at first. So, for the next following days, she keeps her hands to herself and refrains from making you too uncomfortable

In front of everyone, she turns into a saint. Addresses you politely, never lets her eyes linger for a second too long, and doesn't approach you as much as she used to before. Sonar is not the only one confused, even you are baffled at the sudden change. She treats you like you're mere acquaintances, nothing more, and she notices the way your eyes begin to seek hers whenever she avoids yours.

However when she finally gets you alone in the elevator, she pins you to the wall again with her hands rest on your waist. "Okay, I'm done playing pretend. You want this or not?"

You raised an eyebrow at her, but not making a move to remove her hands. "We're at work. We could get into trouble."

Malevola grins down at you, hands falling lower. "We could get into trouble elsewhere then?"

This time, you don't stop her.

────────────── ★ ───────────────

BLONDE BLAZER (bonus)

HR department is either nonexistent or is fucking blind to everything happening in this branch.

Because Blonde Blazer is not exactly subtle when it comes to her little (not-so-secretive) crush towards you. Hell, everyone already knows how much she likes you. How obvious she is just being around your cubicle all of the time and the lingering shoulder touches she does.

Everyone knows, except you.

And it honestly frustrates her, because she's pretty sure she's being as straightforward as she could. Asks you out for lunch or dinner outside the office during your free time. Hovers around you, literally, when you're walking home. You know, just making sure you get home safely.

Even though she knows she needs to be professional, she just can't help the nervous flutter in her chest when she's around you. You unknowingly make her feel like Mandy, and not Blazer. The way you talk to her, as if you could see past her powers and her amulet, makes her hopelessly pining after you.

Everyone else just keeps quiet, and at this point, no one bats an eye anymore. Chase even tells her to give up, Robert advises her to make her intentions known directly, but she ignores both of them because she knows she can do this.

Honestly, if she doesn't know about your past, she'll be convinced your superpower was being oblivious.

Because you honestly can't see the special treatment she's giving you. The praises and compliments that spill out of her mouth. How her voice and gaze softens when around you.

And you just accept everything like it was normal, maybe you honestly think she was being nice.

She even invites Robert for a drink, sitting on top of the billboard again, a bottle in her hand while she's venting her frustrations and he's chugging his own beer with a deadpanned expression.

Blazer with a crush is honestly just like a Golden Retriever. Hopeless, loyal to a fault, adorable yet kinda a mess. She ends up drinking Robert's beer after he offers it, then composes herself once she chucks the empty bottle into the unknown.

"Just tell them how you really feel," Robert shrugs, quite done with the whole ordeal. "What's the worse thing that can happen?"

"Rejection? Resignation? Not being able to talk to them anymore?" Okay, maybe she's a little tipsy now. But honestly, she doesn't fucking care anymore. Maybe she should stop with the whole thing, move on like she did with Phenomaman, but that was easier than this.

Robert claps her shoulder, a look of pity visible on his features. "Hey, don't take it personally. Next time, you can–"

Her phone beeps, a notification, and Blazer holds up a finger as she checks it. She almost shot up to the skies and threw her phone or Robert when she reads your message.

"Soooo, Chase filled me in with the whole thing. Says you're doing all these because you like me? Sorry for being oblivious and not catching on quick :'D"

Then, before she could type a reply, another message shows up.

"How about a date tomorrow night? My treat ;))"

────────────── ★ ───────────────

Holy shit, that was a lot. I'm gonna drop dead (sleep)

[appletreat]

you’ve changed something in him sonar x gn!reader (fluff) synopsis: you seem to be the exception m.list / wc: 1k

    the thing sonar hated the most was seeing any coworkers during his time off. whether it was a dispatcher or another member of the z-team, it felt like he was losing his precious privacy. except for the few times he saw you in the distance.

  well, first he heard your signature laugh, his ears instantly perking up at the noise. his gaze flickers around the restaurant, searching until he sees you sitting in a booth. you’re with a couple friends, laughing about something that sonar blurred out at the sight of you. you poke around your food with your fork, smiling about whatever you were talking about. his eyes only shifted when you looked up, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck raising. 

  the second time he saw you in the wild was at the grocery store. his usual routine is to head in during the closing hour, enjoying the dark and the lack of customers. this particular night though, he wasn’t expecting to see you staring at a bag of chips. you were wearing a pair of old plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt. lifting your hand to grab one of the bags, your shirt lifted, revealing a sliver of bare skin. sonar couldn’t help but stare from afar, a box of twinkies crinkling under his tight grip. 

  and the third time was when he saw you at a local bar. it was a long day with the z-team, leaving sonar with a sore back and a need for a forgetful evening. he entered the bar, making sure to weave his way around the dance floor, and order something strong. leaning against the bar, sonar takes a long sip from his whiskey, he spots you in the crowd. you’re dancing to a song sonar doesn’t know, hands raised as you blend in with the rest of the crowd.

  there was a light to you, bright enough to cause his heart to ache. your eyes closed, breathing in the moment, a glass of alcohol sloshing in your hand. he already knew you were different to the other people in his life, that you made the chemicals in his brain fire off like shots, the only thing to have done that since his last bout with coke. but now, you were ingrained in his mind.

  sonar never ended up talking to you that night, opting for the few conversations you have in the office. leaning against your cubicle to ask if you’ve seen the leaderboard, his name climbing in the past week. he’d ask if you’re up to date on stocks and say that crypto is becoming increasingly popular. malevola joked that he was growing soft, that you had changed him into an actual hero. he argued that that wasn’t true, until the next time he saw you out of the office. 

  he never expected to find you outside of an ice cream shop, the sun having already set. you sat on a small bench outside the shop, having set your bag off to the side, taking scoops every minute or so. sonar had just exited an alleyway, the blood still on his fur from finding his dinner (some kind of rodent that he didn’t fully identify). wiping it off with a handkerchief before stuffing it back into his jacket pocket. 

  you had caught his eye, the way the wind blowing just enough to ruffle your jacket. your scent traveled through the wind, a fragrance that he now contributed to you, even if he smelt it on anyone else. closing his eyes, he revels in having this odd closeness with you, not quite realizing that someone had quickly come up and grabbed the handles of your bag.

  you stand up and keep your hands wrapped around the handles in an attempt to keep it on your person. once he heard you shouting for help, his eyes spring open, staring at the low-level criminal that had a hold of your bag. sonar’s blood begins to boil at the sight of someone attempting to rob you. taking off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves, he walks across the street.

  “let go of it, asshole!” 

  the man looks over at him, raising his eyebrows at sonar’s appearance. he watches as sonar glances over at you, giving you a confident smile, “you might want to cover your ears.”

  his eyebrows furrow at the sound of this, watching as within a second, your hands are pressed against your ears. and a deafening noise rings through the air, ringing into the man’s ears and rupturing important parts within his eardrum. he drops your bag as soon as the sound hits him, covering his ears as well, although it can’t seem to stop the bleeding that has already started. 

  lifting your hands from your ears, you pick up your bag, gaze softening at the sight of sonar and the man crumpled to the ground. “thanks- for that, honestly i thought for a second there i’d have to cancel my credit cards,” you kick at the ground with your shoe, gaze meeting his for a split second before it splinters off to your shoes. 

  “it was nothing, really.”

  “you’re really rounding out to be a good hero, you know that?” you lean against the table, arms crossing in front of your chest.

  sonar walks over to stand next to you, gaze flickering over to you, “you make it easy.”

  he hadn’t meant to say that, hoping to have come up with something suave. perhaps something that would’ve had you swooning to his kind words. instead you start to laugh, closing your eyes as your head tilts back. “give yourself some credit sonar,” lightly punching his shoulder, you stand up straight from the table, “well, i will see you at the office, i think i’m going to head back to my apartment.”

  “victor.. my name is victor,” his hand scratches the back of his neck.

  “well, victor, i will see you in the office. maybe i’ll bring you in a coffee, as thanks, the office coffee kind of sucks ass.”

  “it’s actually a bit more than kind of.”

  “right, right, well, then i will be your savior for tomorrow and bring you coffee.”

[sylusizhere]

I've just posted the first chapter of a Waterboy x Mecha-Man fic on A03, here's a lil peek and the link for ya'll.

Robert took a deep breath, getting ready to feel the familiar pain of someone punching him square in the jaw, but it never came. He looked down seeing the stranger curled on the ground with a very proud looking Punch up next to him. “You ain’t in the shape to be fightin’ Robert. I got him for ya’ but why are ye’ fightin’ him anyway?”

Herman leaned over the shorter’s shoulder to look at his face. “H-he didn’t- nothing h-happened.” Colm looked between the both of them seemingly trying to put the pieces together. Before he could comment the rest of the group was already slipping out the door to join the three men outside.

“Nothing happened. He was just being a pervert.” The team might’ve believed it if Waterboy wasn’t flush against their bosses back, and said bosses shirt wasn’t soaked.

Malevola looked down at the man curled into himself whining about how his dick hurt and debated making fun of him but instead her eyes drifted to the two men practically melted into one. “Was he protecting you, Waterboy?” The way the taller’s face flushed and he gave a sheepish nod made the team laugh once again. 

Enjoy, it's my first attempt at a slow burn..

[sylusizhere]

If it feels right, then just let it

ღ. # synopsis ─ robert, herman, victor, colm and katon-ur realise that maybe falling for you and putting you in the line of danger isn't the worst thing out there. (M!Reader)

ღ. # warning's ─ blood, curse words I mean... have ya'll played the game.. please be wary of spoilers I don't think there will be but be wary. ღ. # 2460 Words ღ. # a/n ─ punch up and phenomaman's are shorter i'm sorry but they are included! T^T

Robert :

He had tried really hard to avoid it, keep you out of the fucked up shit he got himself into, whether it be the constant fights, getting kidnapped. The constant visits to the infirmary or being saved by countless hero's because he himself didn't have any super human powers. Robert really had tried but the more you stuck around, the more you bandaged his wounds and the more you showed your care he fell.

"Are you guys going out drinking? Can I come?" Your voice was bright over the comm line and it made everyone groan, they loved you, though they would never admit it their chimes of 'fine' 'you are part of the team' showed it more than they ever had to say. "Robert, you comin'? I'll buy first round!" Now of course that had everyone in better moods and cheering.

If he had said he wasn't smiling he would've been lying, despite the shit going on with himself, the world, Mecha Man he found it hard to smile but you made it so easy. "Yeah.. What the hell, why not." As usual the bar was crowded, villain's filling every inch of the bar, none of them batted an eye at your team but the second Robert intended to head inside he got shit.

Your eyes met his in an instant and he felt the nerves of the day melt away, you were a warm blanket against the freezing fear of life. "Aye, he's with us. With me mostly, but you know, with us." The door slammed shut before he could comprehend what you had just said, you both had feelings for each other, that was obvious.

But Robert had said to pump the breaks because it couldn't get in the way of work, but really it was a front to protect you from his demons. He might've been stupid on some accounts, but he was well aware you could take care of yourself and whomever came at you but if you got wounded because of him it might've led him to his inevitable end early.

The Z-Team valued Robert much more than they let on, especially with the constant bullying but as they surrounded the poor overworked man it shined. "So.. Not to be greedy, but are ya buyin' the second round? Since your little lover ere' got the first one?" Colm laughed slapping the taller mans leg and scurrying off to the bar for more drinks.

Even if this team had trouble being a team, they sure as hell knew how to party as one. Alcohol coursed through everyone's veins, the music loud but the tension between you and Robert was louder than anything else in the room. "If I were to lets say, ask if this was a date almost. What would you say?" His voice was lighthearted just incase this wasn't what this was to you.

"Robert, I've been trying to get your attention since you started working here, and you think this is a date?" Mecha Man's ears flushed as a laugh escaped his lungs before he hunched over laughing harder, god he was an idiot.

He had caught the vibe, or at least felt the vibe you wanted to go out but he pushed it away, your safety was more important, he wanted this team to work. "I mean, I knew. Or I thought I knew but I didn't want to step on that HR violations line." If lying was truly a sin that led you straight to hell, this line alone was getting him sent to the depths.

Roberts cheeks flushed further at the sound of your laughter echoing in front of him, this was embarrassing, though the fear of putting Shroud's target on your back was slowly dissipating. He could protect you if it came down to it, you being his was worth the risk. "Is that a yes then?"

If the rest of the team was laughing in the background he pretended not to hear it, or was he even able to hear it over the feeling of your lips suddenly on his. "If you want it to be a date, then hell fuckin yeah it's a date."

Herman :

It wasn't even villain's he worried about killing you, it was himself. Constant water that soaked your skin, your shoes, your clothes, he knew dealing with it dealing with him, was a hassle that wasn't worth it. Herman was deeply grateful anytime he got your attention, he was deeply grateful anytime you did anything around him or even for him! Most of the team didn't pay attention to him, he was a shadow behind the rest of Z-Team and he was okay with that, because for once in his life he was part of a team.

"Herman, I need you in here babe." No matter how many times you called him that he failed to properly react every time, whether he'd slip and fall or release so much water he drowned the floor. It was endearing, well to you anyway, your shared co-workers didn't think so. It was simply an affectionate term, no weight behind it, no pressure that came with it but it only made him want to be yours more.

Waterboy was by your side faster that he would've made it for anyone else, he knew why you asked for him, he reached past you to grab the mug up in the tallest bit of the cupboard and smiled down at you. "Do- I.. W-Why do you c-call, say th-that when referring to me?" His cheeks were flushed, goggles lifted to sit tightly against his forehead, Herman blinked rapidly as water continued to drip down his face.

You frowned wondering if he didn't like the nickname, but you had been calling him that for weeks. "Oh, do you not like it? All you had to do was say so." He might've been able to get out a quick, mildly stuttered sentence if your eyes weren't gazing so deeply into his. You watched him shake his head sending water droplets flying like he was a dog.

"No! I-I mean, no! I.. I like it, it's nice, I f-fail. Do-Don't see why you use that n-name when talking to.. To me." Herman flinched as your frown deepened, this was going poorly and he wasn't sure how to fix it, he wanted to help. To help you, not upset you or make the vibes weird.

One of your arms snaked around his neck, pulling him to bend to your level so your faces were at the same place. "It's a term of affection, I'm being affectionate toward you. I like you." If Herman wasn't blushing before, he was bright red now, water falling rapidly from him and creating a puddle on the floor.

"You- M-me? Y...You like me?" Waterboy.. was stupid on most occasions but he wasn't immune to the way you treated him so softly and full of care. He was well aware that you wanted him, but could he allow himself to want you? To put you in the face of danger, to allow you to see him at every state.

You watched his eyes dart between you and the floor, a silly smile on his lips while he repeatedly opened his mouth to speak but nothing came. Your hand was so warm on the back of the neck he felt like it was steaming against the cold water that covered his flesh. Perhaps words weren't needed as he found himself leaning in, so.. So terribly slowly.

Herman was a patient man, you on the other hand were not. You pulled him further into you, trying to keep your footing on the soaked tile as his lips met yours. His arms snaked around your waist and even squeezed you, but the lead was yours.

Victor :

Hookups were easy, kiss a lot, tell very little. Or that was how Victor viewed it for awhile, until he realised he didn't want a hookup from you and if anything he wanted your attention twenty-four seven. "Are we still on for tonight?" Your voice made his ears tense, head slowly turning to you, yes he wanted to still do your routine tonight. He'd wait for you after work and take you to some shitty rundown bar and you both would fuck until the sun came out.

Then when you turned up late for work with ruffled clothes and messed up hair together everyone knew."Sonar. You have better hearing than me, why the hell aren't you listening?" Roberts voice caught him off guard and he sat straighter looking around the room. Of course no one was paying attention to him but Robert, but the initial scare was still there.

"Yeah, just cause I have better hearing doesn't mean I want to listen to the shit you say." He spoke casually acting as if he didn't just jump out of his skin. Most of the team laughed at his remark, but you.. You glared daggers into the back of Sonar's head. Maybe he didn't notice, or maybe he was so terrified he couldn't acknowledge it.

As soon as the meeting was over you grabbed him and yanked him into an empty conference room. "What is your problem?" Sonar could give a number of replies to this, a drug addict, a bat human freak.. The list went on but in this moment his mouth was dry, he didn't have a reply. "Robert was talking about cutting someone from the group, one of those people is me."

Robert intended to cut... You from the Z-Team? "Robert wants to cut you? Who's the other option?" His feelings were harder to play off now, the way he grabbed you and stared so deeply as he tried to think of a loophole was a tell tale. "Why does he want to cut you? He wouldn't do that, you're one of the strongest members."

Whether it was the truth or not was to be decided, maybe he was just dick-riding you because it felt like the right thing to do, or worse maybe he truly believed you were one of the strongest. "Sonar.. If I do get cut from the team, I don't want to stop seeing you." Seeing him.. He didn't want to stop seeing you either..

"No, I.. I don't want to stop seeing you either. I want to see you twenty-four seven, can this be.. More of a hookup?" If he didn't know you as well as he did he might've been hurt by the loud laughter that escaped your annoyed face. Sonar wished he didn't feel it, the soft fluttering feeling when he saw you happy. If hero work didn't kill him you surely would.

The hero peeked to the sides of where you both were standing and was met with the entire team snickering before running as if they had been caught red handed.. Which they had. "I would love to go out with you Victor."

Colm :

Punch up knew he was smaller than you, height wise, muscle wise he almost tripled what you had. But he also knew he tended to go fists first into a fight when maybe he should stop and use his head. That was what worried him, if something happened to you because of his foolishness he would die inside. "Love I already told ya. I don't wantcha' getting hurt."

You sighed, flicking his cheek making him frown, if the roles were reversed he would've done the same, had it been a stranger he would've punched them square across the face. "You don't get to say that, I know you mean well but you go into every fight fully ready to fight to the death. Fuck you Colm."

Though your words were full of venom, your gaze was not, the love you felt so deeply for him was hard to ignore. He annoyed you in every possible way but love overrode that every time. "I'm not asking you to get publicly married to me, just give me a chance." In this moment he wishes his ignorance was as strong as his arms were, because he was going to give you a chance when you spoke with that sweet voice.

Colm stayed quiet but the small huff he let out said you had already won. "If you get hurt because of me, or because any of ta' bastards after me.." It started strong but when you smiled sweetly and leaned closer to his face the words became uncharacteristically soft.

"You'll protect me won't you?"

Katon-ur :

"I have begun to feel someone tug on my heart. But, I do not want them to come into harms way.. I did not think it would happen so suddenly after my end with the Blonde Blazer." Robert sighed deeply at Phenomaman's words, when did he become the resident relationship counsellor.

"Just tell him that.. Tell him he tugs on your heart or whatever." He said it like he was annoyed with the taller man and he kind of was, but it was also kind of nice to see him feel something for someone else after how depressed he was. So maybe Robert could take this seriously and help the poor... guy.

Katon-ur nodded, one hand coming to support his jaw in thought, on one hand he could do that, be honest and tell you every stupid little thing that you made him feel. He was phenomaman, why wouldn't you feel the same way back? "Robert. Is there a chance he does not return the deep feelings I harbour for him?"

Vulnerability like this, from a man like that was new. A big, strong hero that was currently curled into himself full of worry and insecurity that someone he worked with wouldn't want him romantically. "You like me, like that?" For once in his long lived life he felt a sudden panic flood through every limb he had, you.. Your voice. Had you heard all of this?

"Well, guess now you don't have to tell him." Phenomaman turned to the other hero so fast he might've broken his neck if it were less sturdy than it was. Right now he could either turn and fly out of the building like the cops were on his tail or admit it.

Katon-ur stood, he didn't float. For once he stood on the ground properly and faced you with all the courage he had. "I.. Yes, you tug on my heart and I have begun to realise I require you more than I worry for your safety." He could have worded that better, but the smile that spread across your cheeks spoke enough words.

"I like you too, and should I be in danger, I know who to call to save me."