#<- i wholly support this and he definitely does

[bluecoolr]

THEY ARE SO HECKING CUTE!! 👀💕✨️

This made me giggle so much!! I can't stop staring

Nex is a terrible influence

@bluecoolr-main

[7ndipity]

BTS As Girl Dads

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: Headcanons about how the members would each handle being girl dads

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request! This got me soo in my feels, they’d all be such great dads(I may have gone a lil self indulgent but who cares lol). Obviously, some/most of these could also apply to any kid, regardless of gender, but for the sake of the Hc, we’re focusing on daughters

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

He’s honestly such a girl dad, argue with the wall

I totally see him wholly embracing the title and all the things that are typically considered ‘girly’, like pink and sparkles and all that

He would indulge every single one of her interests. She likes animals? They’re going to the zoo every weekend. She likes music? He’s signing her up for lessons for whatever instrument she’s into

I have this mental picture of them sitting on her bed together while he’s reading her bedtime stories, using all these silly voices and wearing one of her princess hats or something bc she insisted he needed for the character and just-😭

Yoongi:

Yoongi would be the softest girl dad ever, like she had him wrapped around her finger from day one. He took one look at her tiny little scrunched up face, that reminded him waay too much of his own expression when he’s annoyed, and he was a goner

I see him just sitting soo patiently while she gives him makeovers, wearing like three different pairs of clip-on earrings at the same time

He would really focus on teaching her to stand up for herself and makes sure she never takes any shit from anyone

He might come off a little stern sometimes, but it’s just because he worries and wants the best for her

Hobi:

Okay, Hobi as a girl dad might be one of my favorite headcanons, bc he’d be soo fucking sweet with them!

The tea party King. Like he shows up dressed in the most ridiculous outfits to make her giggle, and ready to talk imaginary gossip with her and any plushies that are joining them🤭

He would love shopping with/for her, constantly trying to find the coolest outfits or pieces for her, and they would definitely wear matching outfits when she was little(she would be the best dressed toddler ever, lol)

I also see him being quite protective of her at times, being super nervous/worried about her doing things like riding a bike for the first time or on her first days of school

Namjoon:

Omg Namjoon as a girl dad would be soo fucking protective. Like if someone does anything to hurt or upset her, they’re fucked

I see him loving daddy-daughter days out together, taking her to the park or museums or bookstores, really just wanting to indulge her curiosity and interests

Like Yoongi, he would really work to make sure she knows how to stand up for herself, as well as others

For all of his sternness tho, he would have the biggest soft spot for her, he’s 100% the type to let her have dessert before dinner or something bc she gave him puppy eyes

Jimin:

Omg he’s soo girl dad coded, like it’s not even funny(he literally confirmed that on that ep of “are you sure?” like 🥺)

He would treat her like a little princess, doting on her at every possible opportunity, buying her toys/clothes/treats, taking her on special outings, etc. If she wants something, he will do whatever he can do give it to her

He would not be able to stand seeing her in any sort of pain. Like even her just having a scraped knee would make him slightly misty-eyed, even tho she’s not upset/crying about it

I see them having lots of long talks about whatever’s on her mind. He would really strive to be her safe place to ask questions about anything, from school and friends to life and the future

Taehyung:

I see him being an amazing girl dad! He has this amazing, comforting dynamic with the girls that he’s worked with/is friends with, so I can only imagine how supportive he would be with his own daughter

He would be so indulgent in whatever she wanted. Ice cream before bed? Heck yeah, let him grab a spoon too. She wants a new plushie/toy even tho she just got one like yesterday? Well, the new one needs a friend, soo-

But he would still have his more stern/protective moments with her, just moreso in little ways like making sure she’s always wearing her helmet and elbow/knee pads, brushes her teeth, does her homework, etc

He would play along with all/any of their imaginary games, fully committing to the role(and adding waay too many silly death/fainting scenes bc they make her laugh)

Jungkook:

Junkook would absolutely adore a daughter. Like she would be his little princess and anyone/anything that upsets her will have to answer to him.

On the flip side of that protectiveness tho, he is so unbelievably gentle with her. As an infant, he handled her like she was made of glass, and as she grows up, he would always speak to her in a softer tone than he uses for anyone else 

(Also dodon’t think about him singing her to sleep every night as an infant. Getting up with her in the middle of the night and walking her around the house, singing to her softly till she drifts back off to sleep in his arms)

He would love teaching her things and playing games with her(I totally picture him teaching her boxing in tiny and falling over all dramatic when she lands a hit, lol)

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0ghol @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[ktjislove1119]

what they'd post on your birthday

-> p1harmony x seventh member! male reader, this was giving more platonic love but i think its still sweeeeeetttt

warnings : none , i think talk of getting old, i guess

rating : fluff 🙏

yoon keeho

- he loves including aesthetic pictures of you (and him) in his dump.

- he likes keeping the messages short and sweet on the internet, but trust the first thing you see and hear when that clock strikes 12 on your birthday is either: a lengthy heartwarming text from him or him just going to your room and smothering you in love.

- he probably will be the first member to greet you because he takes wishing happy birthday to people seriously (secretly holds grudges on everyone that doesnt wish him happy birthday in the first minute of his own) (he does not play when it comes to birthdays). but its because he thinks that theyre such important and sentimental dates.

- always makes it a point in each post and each year on your birthday to say that he can’t wait to grow old with you because he thinks that is one of the most raw forms of love and admiration you can have for someone. envisions a future with you constantly and just gets even more mushy and sensitive about it when your birthday comes around because it’s like, actually real and happening. you two are really getting older together and he just lowkey tears up at the thought of it.

- tries using his persuasive leader skills to get the company to give them all a singular day off to properly celebrate and will try his hardest to fight for this one day off, entirely for you.

- probably cries in his room about it too LMAO i just see him as someone overly sensitive and invested in the idea of growing old with his loved ones, which obviously would include you. thinks about how you two even first met and how you’re both so different now and it lowkey feels like a punch to his gut because the time really is flying so fast.

- keeps the fesitivities of the day wholly centered around you; whatever it is you want to do, he wants to do too! it’s your birthday, they’re all just coming along for the ride since it’s your special day.

choi taeyang

- makes it a point in his message every year to emphasize the fact on staying happy and prioritizing your happiness above else.

- never wants you to forget that you are one of his strongest pillars of support and motivation to keep him going and he very literally needs you to be healthy, happy, and content in order to have peace of mind. he places personal happiness of an individual above everything and really hopes you share that same sentiment so that you can put your own happiness above everything else, too.

- pics he drops of you are very bf-coded lmao don’t ask him if it was purposeful because it wasn’t, he just likes taking off-guard photos of you. he thinks that that is when you’re the most handsome to him, hence why he posts them because he wants others and p1ece to be able to appreciate those photos too.

- makes a lot of jokes on your birthday about how you’re getting old, but are still younger than him therefore a baby.

- i can just imagine him affectionately rubbing his hand on your head or up and down your neck and softly saying that you’re still so young. he feels like reminding you of that fact is important on your birthday, as well as just making you remember that just because you’re a year older doesn’t mean you need to feel rushed into doing something, such as obtaining your goals or dreams. he knows how hard you are on yourself and wants you to know that just because you’re older now doesn’t mean there’s now a timer on how “far” your dreams are now. pulls the “oldest is the wisest” card definitely when he gives you that talk because he’s speaking so articulately on it and solemnly trying to remind you of that fact.

- i feel like he’d be one to reminisce a lot on when you two were younger together, maybe when you were trainees together or just little things you experienced together that you can’t now due to whatever circumstances. speaks fondly of those times, but his heart does ache to see that time is passing by and how different things are now.

- in general, he tries not to be too sappy, but rather keep the mood uplifted and high. he wants you to keep a positive outlook on your life and will remind you that he’s always there for you, to talk or whatever it is you need him for.

choi jiung

- wishes you a happy birthday with the softest smile on his face and maybe even leaning in for a hug, and if he’s really feeling soft about it being your birthday he’ll even kiss the top of your head. it depends on the year, honestly, he’s only done it a total of five times for all the years he’s known you.

- kind of likes to be in control of what goes on on your birthday BUT NOT IN THAT WAY. he obviously doesn’t make the plans for you, chooses things for you — not like that. he just wants to make sure everything is perfect for YOUR day. so he likes to be in charge of cleaning up the place for the celebration, decorating the place, even little things like being the one to place the candles on your cake because he needs them to be perfect and he knows he can do that.

- genuinely will lowkey get pissed or annoyed if any of the members do anything to slightly ruin the plans that were made, shoots them a warning look if even the slightest thing is out of line. he wants you to have this special moment and memory in your mind of how everything was on your special day.

- likes to linger close to you, surveying all the surroundings to make sure it’s too your liking and everything is comfortable.

- in his birthday post to you, he likes mentioning some term of endearment just to show that, while he might not always physically show you how much he loves you, he still harbors such strong feelings of love, admiration, and care for you.

hwang intak

- intak is so incredibly loud and proud each year when it’s your birthday.

- after keeho, he’s probably the next member to eagerly wish you a happy birthday, smothering you in hugs and kisses, squeezing you tight as he proclaims how happy he is that it’s your birthday. jokingly will call you an old man at least once in the day.

- p1ece love his birthday post to you because he drops some of the most top tier pics of you, everyone say thank u intak.

- physically cannot be away from you for too long or else he will start whining about how you have to be near him for your birthday. likes holding onto your arm as an anchor in keeping you close.

- probably another member to quietly cry about how you’re getting older in the privacy of his room or when you all are around the cake, he just randomly lets a tear or two slip. but they’re happy tears, he swears! he’s just sososo happy that you’re life is continuing on for another year AND MANY MORE !!!!!!!! and he just feels so grateful to be able to see you actually grow into such a strong individual, becoming a man he loves and truly admires.

- scrolls through old photos of you and him from your pre-debut days and the smile on his face when he does is so unbelievably wide.

- just a smiley guy throughout the entire day, physical affection amped up to the max, and maybe a tear or two slipping,

haku shota

- the only person to explictly say that they love you in their online post to you.

- loves posting the silliest photos that you two have together, he thinks that that side of yours is one he loves seeing because it reminds him of how the two of you would goof off a lot when you were younger. obviously, having debuted there is almost always some level of maturity and professionalism that you need to show in public. but those silly pics he has of you two together are just cute ways of shota showing everyone, and reminding himself, that at heart, you’re just a silly guy.

- another latcher, along with intak. likes to just be on top of you the entire day, have fun carrying around two fully grown men around with you because these two seriously won’t be away from you for longer than a minute.

- incredibly vocal on your birthday, way more than he usually is because he just loves talking about how it’s your special day, how you’re getting older, but still remaining the same boy that was guiding him when he was a trainee, how much he loves you, how much he hopes you enjoy your day, how- the list goes on.

- will hand you your gift with an eager look on his face, wanting to see you open it right then and there because he was so particular in picking it out for you and wants to see if he did a good job (tell him he did because he did. do it rn. don’t be RUDE tell him or else.)

- definitely not the type to get sentimental though, he doesn’t like looking at birthdays like that. instead, he’s in a completely celebratory mood and outrageously positive the entire day. someone would think it was his birthday from how excited he is about today.

kim jongseob

- jongseob’s post about you is absolutely beautiful and it makes him bashful to read what he feels being made public, but he gets over it rather quickly because he knows that that is how he truly feels and that there’s no other way he could have worded it to you. he also wants people to know how deeply he cares for you and how much admiration he holds for you in his heart. it’s slightly embarrassing, but he gets over it when he hears you acknowledge how his words have touched you.

- he is taking pictures of you the entire day. his film camera, his phone, videoing you as well, he just really wants to commemorate this day and have something to look fondly back on.

- shows you privately, probably at the end of the night when everyone is more worn out, all the photos and videos he had taken of you from all your birthdays prior to this one, smiling into you as you hug him tightly and thank him. he squeezes you just as tight, softly whispering a happy birthday to you and pulling away with a wide grin.

- doesn’t really get sentimental PUBLICALLY, but understands why the other members would. he is secretly super thankful that he gets to be present in your life for each birthday you have had since he’s met you and whenever you blow out your candle, he is, again, secretly wishing with you that you have nothing but a healthy future in front of you. and maybe, also how he wants to be in your life for forever and be there to celebrate every single future birthday with you.

- the next day he looks at the special photo that he has of the two of you in his studio (the one from when you were trainees still — i mentioned it briefly in my other seventh member post) and smiles really sadly at it. realizes that you two will never be those kids again, but snaps himself out of his by reminding himself that he can’t take this present time for granted either.

- jongseob has an undying devotion and care for you that he translates into photos and videos captured of you, smiling softly at them whenever he is in his alone time and just feeling so lucky he gets to really be by your side as you grow older.

[ramblinscramblin]

Got a request/suggestion for you if you like. As headcannons or whatever strikes your fancy.

The team has a new recruit! They are one of the most genuine, patient, friendly, sweetest people one could ever meet. They make everyone breakfast in the mornings, they listen to people's problems, they volunteer at a puppy orphanage, talk down muggers in the street, essentially a bottle of sunshine as a person.

On the battlefield however, they are most certainly one of the scariest people alive. They are incredibly strong and durable, no need for weapons when they can tear people apart with their bears hands and teeth. They are brutal, carnage incarnate, and have absolutely no fear whatsoever.

Now, their sweetness is genuine, they are not faking anything. Outside of battle they are one of the most pleasant, stable people on the team. If ever asked, the best reply they can ever give is "This is a war with no true death. (Thanks to the respawn machine) When you can play a game with no consequences, why not have a little fun? ~"

What do the mercs think about their new teammate? How did they react to seeing their first time on the battlefield? How scary is the game with a player who doesn't care?

Sorry about the length, I got all excited. Romantic or platonic is good, and pick whichever mercs you like to focus on.

→Sweetheart Reader who has a Bloodlust!

Genre: Silliness, general

Characters: Scout, Medic, Pyro, Sniper

Content warning: canon typical violence

Thanks so much for this request! This is such a fun idea! I decided to just pick a few of my favs, also relationship is left fairly ambiguous hope that’s all good! Enjoyyyy ٩( ᐛ )و

Scout

Scout enjoys your sweet side, Scout tends to lean towards supportive types since he doesn’t see much of that from the other mercs.

The two of you get along quickly.

We know he secretly loves being babied so he likes that you make breakfast and do all the cleaning.

He’ll probably make fun of you, calling you the teams maid. You let it slide though, maybe playfully teasing him back.

But ultimately he enjoys having someone around who isn’t totally nihilistic and hasn’t already half given up on being happy, it’s a nice change of pace for him.

All that being said, he doesn’t think you’re going to last a second on the battlefield.

Sure, being all starry eyed and happy go lucky is all good and fine around the base, but that’s the type of stuff that breaks you on the battlefield, respawns or not.

Genuinely tries to talk you out of it the first time you’re set to go out.

“Are you sure you really thought this through? Nobody’d be mad if ya skipped out on us, maybe Pauling has another type-a job for you.”

“Scout, it’s sweet you care so much, but I assure you I have it under control.”

He’s unconvinced so he goes into it feeling the need to protect you.

After he is literally doused in BLU teams blood, it’s pretty glaringly obvious you don’t need him.

Is in genuine awe, hardly fights the whole match, just watches you in… terror? Amazement? Surprise? He’s not exactly sure what he’s feeling, but there is a lot of it.

He’s definitely more wary from that point forward of making any sort of jokes about you.

Medic

Medic is wholly distrusting of your whole “good guy” act.

It might seem nice, and maybe you are but nobody gets into your position by being all smiles all the time he knows that.

Once he does a bit of inspecting on your character and a whole lot of judging, finding out that you are seriously just that golden hearted is a serious surprise to him.

You may point out to him that’s it’s pretty unfair of him of all people to be suspicious, the guy who smiles while doing open heart surgery, which he concedes.

He’s much more receptive to your niceness from then on.

Doesn’t fear so much for your safety on the battlefield, your kindness was not a good enough scale for how you would perform in battle, at least in Medics eyes.

Feels much more drawn to you after seeing your insane side.

Once seeing you on the battlefield he feels he finally has the full picture of who you are, and enjoys your company much more.

Your attitudes of being fairly frivolous on the battlefield have earned the two of you a rather unnerving reputation, but neither of you care, content to be menaces on the ground.

Sniper

Likewise, Sniper is a little suspicious about your behavior.

A puppy shelter? The sweet conversations? Helping at soup kitchens? It’s all a little on the nose for his tastes.

The kicker for him was when you somehow turned a violent drunk man on the street into a weeping mess, talking him through his childhood trauma. You really were just that tooth rottingly sweet.

Gets used to it, keeps his distance, but gets used to it.

After seeing you in battle he is even more put off. Of course, he respects your play, just the same way that he has some base level of respect for his teammates but it never goes beyond that.

He has strict codes he sticks to on the battlefield, and seeing you so lax about respect just sort of rubs him the wrong way.

You two probably don’t end up seeing eye to eye all too often, and may butt heads fairly often because of this.

But at the end of the day, you’re both teammates, and everyone else on the team loves you so much that it makes Mick feel like an asshole for having any negative feelings towards you.

Pyro

Wow! You guys get along so great!

Pyro is the exact same way, relatively beloved due to kindness off the battlefield but feared during the fight.

Pyro adores how kind and compassionate you are, wants to do all your helping stuff with you. Even if they don’t really know how to properly help anyone without starting a fire.

They will “help” with cooking and cleaning, just enjoying trying to be helpful.

You show up in a lot of their pyro land drawings, and they do enjoy spending a lot of time with you, and you them!

Pyro also loves helping out with you on the battlefield! Spreading peace and love is that much easier when you’re by their side.

Or at least… that’s Pyros version of events.

Sorry for the wait, having the worst burnout, but I am pressing on for u guys (￣^￣)ゞ hope you enjoyed!

[greensaplinggrace]

the fact of the matter is that buffy ends up isolated no matter what the scoobies do because she bears the burden of the slayer alone at the end of the day and nothing can change that. the problem with this isn't that she's separate from them, it's that they don't want to acknowledge that she is, and in doing so they drive a wedge between them that just grows and grows. the best thing about spike is that he's similar enough to this other side of buffy to understand it and her by extension. he is the only person around who can support that side of her.

most of buffy's issues in season six stem from the scoobies rejecting a part of buffy that spike accepts. and this shame she feels for her reliance on spike and the presence of this darkness and isolation she cannot avoid is largely because of them. i'm sick of this bizarre assumption that pointing out where the scoobies go wrong in their relationship with buffy somehow equals an uncritical uplifting of spike. just because he understands her and represents a certain aspect of her doesn't mean he doesn't fuck up. i mean that's kind of the whole point of their season six dynamic. one of his biggest issues is that he thinks he's helping her by enabling her completely because he doesn't have the ability to properly identify the line between self acceptance and self destruction - pursuit of the id is one of his biggest character traits. that's what makes the end of season six and his decision to get the soul so interesting (although of course there's just as much i can say about the narrative framing of that in regards to lore consistency and the story's obsession with angel, but that's a whole other thing).

point is, the scoobies cannot understand all of buffy, and when they refuse to acknowledge this they destroy their chances of building any bridges to even a simple relationship with that other side of buffy or helping her carry that burden in any way. meanwhile, spike is in the proper position to understand buffy as the slayer and hold his own with her in such a way, but his definition of love is wholly obsessive and destructive. while i disagree that he's incapable of love and even of loving selflessly without his soul, i think spike's version of love in particular is self destructive in a way that enables buffy's own desire to hurt herself through hurting him (see the aforementioned shame regarding her shadow self). spike cannot identify why allowing buffy to give in to her dark side in such a way is bad because he struggles to understand how she could use this to resent herself - although i do think he realizes it's happening on some level.

spike is also buffy's only form of catharsis and the only one that actually listens to what she is saying during a time when everybody else is dismissing her because of the aforementioned inability to understand her as the slayer. it's a clusterfuck - and a clusterfuck that needed to be shattered with a hammer for any kind of relief. and quite frankly to disregard the scoobies' own part in this situation does a disservice to buffy as a character. to be honest, she deserves fucking better than what everyone in her life gives her, especially the scoobies, who grow to take her for granted and feel entitled to controlling her life as a way of keeping her conformed - again, due to the aforementioned lack of desire to acknowledge this other part of her that they cannot connect with.

which leads to season seven, where spike is the only person on the show who has developed and changed enough to remain at buffy's side helping her carry the burden. while everyone else suffered during season six, none of them opened their eyes to what they were doing to buffy - and if they did, none of them acted on it. spike is the only one to acknowledge the damage he's done and work to become better for buffy in any way he can. he is the only one that ends up able to carry that burden with her because he is the only one capable of facing the truth and acting on his desire to do better.

the fucking problem isn't that he hurt buffy - because to be quite frank everybody did - it's that he's the only person on the whole damn show to acknowledge his place in buffy's life, and to acknowledge the burdens she bears, and actively change himself for her. did you know he has almost all of the genuine apologies in the entire show? seven seasons and all of the harm the scoobies cause buffy, and it's fucking spike that is acting like a mature person capable of being a proper partner.

[bg-brainrot]

Sorry to bring the horny but what are your spicy headcanons for Astarion? (Ascended and spawn version)

No need to apologize anon-- this is a safe space for horny 🫰🏽

And ooo I haven't done any spicy headcanons before! I've only done the rogue!Tav ones before, but let me take a crack at it since I definitely have thoughts 🧐

Let's see... Spicy Astarion Headcanons w/GN!Tav (18+ Explicit warning ⚠️ all are set post-personal quest ⚠️ TW: Astarion's trauma)

Spawn Astarion

While he's not wholly comfortable engaging in intimacy for a while, he does enjoy exploring, testing out new ways to touch each other, figuring out what he likes/dislikes. There are stumbles along the way, and his healing journey is naturally not linear, but when he finds a few things he does like, the two of you are all too eager to capitalize on them.

One of those things is how much he enjoys looking into your face as you come. Whether you're in his lap, standing in front of him, laying before him-- he's finds it so much easier to stay connected and in the moment when he's looking directly into your eyes, watching you come undone to his touch.

Always a playful man, he also relishes taking his time with foreplay. Long, lingering touches, deep, kneading massages, soft, brushing lips... it's almost painful how slowly he enjoys taking his time to work you up, enjoys the same in return. But, gods, is it just as lovely.

Once he realizes how much you enjoy the sound of his voice, whispered right into your ear-- he can't stop murmuring loving little things to you. At first, you worry it's an act. After all, so were his initial sweet, honeyed words. But when he's losing all control, moaning a stuttering 'I love you' into your ear as his movements falter, you know that none of this is an act.

Despite maintaining a lot of his composure with you initially-- again, an act-- once he feels safe, comfortable in your arms, his carefully crafted composure falls to something real and a lot more sloppy. His dexterity and control seems to plummet in the heat of the moment, his fingers stumble in his eagerness. More than a few times, the two of you are left laughing, breathless as he finishes quickly or your latest exploration fails.

While he's happy to pleasure you, it takes some experimentation before he's comfortable with you reciprocating. In part because it's what he was used to, seducing targets for Cazador, but also because he's just not sure what he likes. The first time he enjoys your pleasuring him, you do it over his clothing, slowly, grinding the full length of him as he directs your hand with his.

More than anything, he needs to feel you, warm and alive, pressed against him after the fact. Sweaty, hair askew, blood usually trickling from a bite wound, he loves you most post-climax. And whether or not you'll have another go is immaterial, because, in the moment, all he wants is to drown himself in your mortality.

He never says it, but many of his favorite things are things he was never able to do in the 200 years of cruelty under Cazador. Looking into your eyes, telling you he loves you genuinely, taking his time, messing up-- all of them are new for him, ways of reclaiming his body and his sexuality.

Since beginning to re-explore his boundaries, his favorite situation together is you seated in his lap, your foreheads pressed together, your hands clutching his shoulders for support while he rolls into you, his own hands gripping your ass. When he's close, he whispers onto your lips, "Gods, you feel so good. Love, I-I can never last with you like this, can I?" When he comes, his lips meet yours, his hands wrap around your back-- as if trying to meld you to him.

Ascended Astarion

After ascending, he is eager to try out all of the new things his power affords him-- this includes his new body heat. With your own new undead form, he feels all the more alive. The first time he realizes what a thrill it is to have your cold body pressed against his heat, he can't get enough. He spends an entire day directing you to touch him, shivering in the wake of your chill touches.

And now that he can taste, he also wants to taste you-- everywhere. Not just your blood, but your sweat, your tears as you come for him. He will lap at you like a man possessed, all the while telling you how good you taste, how he would tear the hells apart for a mere drop of your release. His mouth, already such a potent drug, is relentless in its exploration of your flavors.

When it comes to the other attributes of mortal men he's received, why, his sex drive is through the roof. Every time he sees you make someone grovel before you, witnesses you exert your power, he can feel himself growing hard at the sight. More than anything, he wants to take you right then and there -- but he stills his hand, waiting until the day you're both seated on his throne.

While he doesn't go so far (yet), he makes no move to hide how he feels about you, often demanding your attention afterward with no more than a look, a finger curl, and a lick of his lips. It's a silent claim as well, showing anyone brave enough to watch whose consort you are.

As his consort, he will do everything in his power to ensure that you're taken care of. This means that, even if you think you're satisfied, Astarion will continue to tend to you, bringing you to climax after climax. It's only when you're left an utter, blubbering mess that he knows he's done enough.

He loves feeling that control over your pleasure. Above all else, he loves knowing that you, a powerful adventurer, crumble before him like anyone else. That thought drives him-- it means he fucks you often, he fucks you hard, and hells does he fuck you at a pace the gods would balk at.

As far as his own satisfaction goes, he's quite vocal about it now. He tells you exactly what he wants and when he wants it. When you stray the course, try something new, his hand is at your head, your neck, your waist-- keeping you right where he wants you.

He's also quite liberal in his praise of you, always ready to tell his beautiful consort what a pretty little mess they are for him, how lovely they feel when they clench around him, how their body could bring the very world to ruin with its perfection.

Since ascending, his new favorite situation is you on your knees, cold mouth around his cock, eyes watering, hands desperately trying to pleasure yourself, all while he looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, holding your head in place, whispering down silky sweet words of encouragement, "That's it, my treasure. Yes, gods, you take me so well. More. More. Yes, just like that. Give me everything." After he spends himself into your mouth, he will always be quick to bend down for a kiss, eager to taste himself on your lips.

[akutasoda]

Can I request fyodor, Nikolai and chuuya with a housewife s/o?

homely forever

synopsis - how are they with a housewife s/o?

includes - chuuya, fyodor, nikolai

warnings - fem!reader(no pronouns mentioned but reader is called a homemaker), mention of traditional gender roles, in all scenarios it was readers choice, fluff, mentions of marriage, wc - 563

chuuya nakahara ★↷

↪he respected your decision, and honestly if he could he'd gladly do the same. so you explaining after you two married that you'd like to be a homemaker he was fine with it.

↪he wanted it to be wholly your decision and not influenced by his own opinions as he wanted you to do what made you happy. and he very quickly did start liking it.

↪especially because the minute he got home from work you were there to greet him and he would instantly melt into your embrace - he always got home as soon as physically possible. and also it meant that if he was stuck doing paperwork you sometimes visited him.

↪while it was slightly dangerous, koyo always escorted you from the entrance to your husbands office and back again. therefore you could always accompany him at lunch.

↪bringing homemade meals and talking all the way up until you had to leave. he always looked forward to those times.

↪and even if you stayed at home and managed it, he still liked to help. always asking if you could perhaps leave him a few things to do so you didn't have to do absolutely everything at home.

fyodor dostoevsky ★↷

↪respecting your decison part 2. he barely left the house for his work anyway and so having you around made it slightly better for him. but ultimately it was your decision.

↪he didn't want to force it on you, seeing as you were someone he deemed worthy to be with so he trusted your decision after your marriage. you still want to work? that's fine. rather be a homemaker? fine as well.

↪while he does give off the vibe of being someone that is preferring of traditional roles such as, he isn't that forceful of it as again its your decision and he respects that.

↪he did enjoy having you around, especially because if he wasn't too busy you could join him and keep him company. distracting him slightly but he'd never complain.

↪and even if he had to go out to deal with 'stuff', coming home knowing you would be there waiting made him feel something he rarely feels.

↪but he absolutely treasures your presence and if he did voice his opinions he would have you beside him 24/7, 365. no negotiations.

nikolai gogol ★↷

↪respecting your decision part 3. he doesn't really care what you want to do after your both married. as long as your by his side you could do whatever. so when you said you'd prefer being a homemaker he was absolutely fine and supportive.

↪he does understand that some people still expect traditional gender roles but he isn't one. he believes in freedom and therefore your choice is your freedom to express what you want. he'd be a hypocrite to deny it.

↪and there's definitely a charm to it, knowing that he could literally teleport home whenever he wanted and be in your embrace was a huge comfort to him.

↪no matter how far he was he could always find you. and he absolutely adores the idea of coming home after a long day knowing you'd greet him makes him so giddy inside.

↪he's also practically at home all the time anyway, only of he's required to go somewhere would he make the effort. so unless your going with him, he'd rather stay at home with you.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

In the last ep of the storm, Rose says she hasn't thought of Steven as White for a long time now, I'm just curious if she regrets how she treated him before when she first found out about him having white's gem / thinking he was white. She was only going off of what she thought she knew at that time, and the truth of Steven's origins haven't been fully revealed, but does she now see that her and the other crystal gems weren't treating him fairly in hindsight, and does Steven feel that way about how they were to him before, or think it was justified and blame himself still? Is that something Rose would ever talk to him or apologize to him about, or if that's something you're thinking of exploring in the future? Thanks so much I love the comic and hope you're enjoying the hiatus :)))

It's a great question!

Rose definitely does feel a bit of guilt about it, and she shows a lot of it through her actions. Ever since Pearl's holo-pearl poofed Earl, and after Steven released Lapis, Rose has been more and more kind to him. She reassures him that he acts nothing like White, and she does her best to comfort and support him.

Has she apologized to him? No, not explicitly. But I'm not really a fan of ham-fisting apologies into my scripts unless they really feel like they drive the story. It's just a personal preference, but I think there are more ways to apologize than just through therapy-approved speech. Are explicit apologies important? Absolutely! Sometimes, though, they can take different forms! Sometimes, they take a while to be said outright.

Steven also doesn't feel slighted by her lack of apology. For one thing, she has made it clear that she doesn't blame him for White's issues anymore. He can see that her initial panic and animosity have faded, and now she's only a little bit weary, but overall believes him to be good. That's good enough for him - he's wary of himself most days!

I'm definitely not dismissing the idea that she DOES apologize to him for it explicitly, sometime in the future. But for now, their relationship is built on a lot of unspoken things. A LOT of unspoken things. In a big way, they're mirrors of each other, reflecting each other's secret-keeping tendencies and traumas back at each other and slowly shaving off grief, bit by bit.

Someday, Rose may work up the courage to truly and wholly believe that there is no White Diamond left in Steven, and say the things she herself never heard from the Diamonds. Not now.... but someday. And I want it to count.

[anika-ann]

Back and Forth - part 3.2

Part 3 - Bounce Back - 2/2

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 14000

Chapter summary:  In which you have to survive the charity auction and it's not easy... for several reasons.

Series masterlist

Warnings: overthinking, self-doubt and issues with self-image, A+ parenting and its consequences, mentions of (in)human experimentation, alcohol (briefly as a coping mechanism), SPOILER armed assault, language and charming Steve, because he is most definitely a warning

A/N: ALWAYS MIND THE WARNINGS; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader’s appearance

A/N2: Second 'half' of the 3rd chapter. As you might have noticed, this is a long one. But with hints of fluff. So…yay? 💕 If you wish/need to split the reading, I recommend to end a reading session at the second in-text divider 😊

Daisy Johnson, despite being the legendary Quake, did in fact have a moment – which was enough of a shock to stop your headache from getting worse, even if your hands seemed to get a little clammy as your phone lit up with her response.

You would have done just fine without anyone’s input, you considered yourself competent enough to choose an evening gown, thank you very much. But after the day you had had so far – you could hardly believe it wasn’t even noon yet – there was a small traitorous voice of hope in the back of your head. Despite the heavy feeling in your stomach weighing you down, a dull reminder of being alone in this world, it urged you to reach out to the one group of people that once made you believe that you could share more with someone than workload or more than lust that turned into ashes and smoke once the fire had been lit up too strong. Daisy had been in the centre of it – she and maybe Coulson.

It was a dangerous game you played, indulging in the one thing you knew would come back to slap you in the face; entertaining the idea that there was someone who genuinely cared for you regardless of your abilities was setting you up for disappointment. But there was something about Daisy, so honest and sincere, that had wormed its way through the walls you had sworn to keep up for support, several inches thick and vibranium-strong. And that didn’t change, even as you had been given, not for the first time, the evidence of how volatile a faith in friendship can turn just short of two hours ago.

Knowing that Daisy didn’t turn her back to people, not even to her father after all he had done wrong, knowing she chose to see the good in people and to put her heart into nurturing it in them despite the risk of getting hurt in more ways than one, left you defenceless against her powers that had nothing to do with her genetic code. She was, even if distantly, the closest thing to a sister to you, older, due to her experience with Inhuman powers and in Coulson’s team, and younger, due to her pure heart and excitement about new things; once she had managed her powers which she had got about a half a year before you did, she became your guide and confidant; though you hadn’t dared to taint her with the knowledge of your pain.

While you had started search for the dress without her, she texted you barely a half an hour in; fresh out of a meeting, apologizing she’d only have twenty minutes before they’d be in the drop-zone for their current mission. Twenty minutes. And yet, she had made the time for you. Somewhere, thousands of feet in the air, in between preparing her mission gear, she had decided to sneak in a few minutes for you.

The knowledge alone eased the pressure in your stomach and gave way to a wholly different feeling, equally dizzying. She cared. Yes, you could argue that since she had been tasked to lead the division of Inhuman agents of SHIELD, it was her duty to respond – and at times, you reminded yourself of that, that you really weren’t special – but the fact was that she was. And she truly did care. You hadn’t been wrong to call her a friend yesterday; and Daisy-the-teenager couldn’t have had picked a better role-model in life. For most part anyway.

It didn’t matter in the slightest that Daisy Johnson had barely squeezed you into her schedule; it still carried meaning. And it would be enough, because she could be very efficient, sorting through the dresses you had considered so far as easily as if she had been slicing through the security system of the Pentagon – for a person with her hacking experience anyway.

A set of easy questions you yourself had been asking was her effective tactics.

Mission or fun? she had asked first, no doubt already knowing the answer as she went through the early picks. There was a reason why no dress had bare back, while all of them had necklines designed high enough to hide at least a strapless bra.

Me: They call it a mission to have fun, but I’ll be damned if I go without being ready other kind of mission.

DJ: Fair

DJ: Charming or sexy?

Your lips twitched in a small smile, your mind conjuring the image of Daisy’s face when she was typing the question. She was one of very few people – probably the only one – who could make you feel the teenage-like excitement about challenging authority. There was always a reason to the madness of doing so, but there was something about her attitude that always whispered of poking the bear for the sake of fun only.

Charming, you replied, almost regretfully. As much fun as it would be to see brains of some of those pretentious jerks you were about to meet short-circuit just because they were seeing an extra silver of flesh on a young woman – a thing that would make for as much of an icky feeling as hilarity – your mission was to represent, not cause havoc or seduce.

Blah. Colour-coordinating with anyone? she asked then and you chuckled at her poorly hidden attempt to fish for gossip – and at the idea of actually trying to do what she was suggesting. No. You were not going to go and ask Rogers what colour he was about to wear. Less so since chances were high that he was about opt for a traditional black tuxedo suit with a white shirt.

Me: Nope.

DJ: Come on! At least tell me who you’re going with?!!

DJ: You know this is a much of a secure channel as it gets

DJ: And you said it wasn’t really a mission, so it can’t be classified

DJ: …and I can’t find it within the system.

I’ll tell you if we survive it, you replied simply, even as laughter already bubbled in your chest, cheeks beginning to hurt from disuse and the sudden exercise as to stop you from grinning.

You should have known that she’d hack the system and go straight for the mission database unless you told her the details. Tony, bless him, threw a tantrum whenever she did that – which wasn’t too often, but it had happened before. On days when you allowed yourself to ponder, you wondered why he never told anyone – as far as you knew, that was, because no one came down on you, raining holy fire of wrath, despite it being obvious you were the cause of Daisy’s hacks – and why he tolerated it. Some days, you thought he was amused by it and felt bad for you, seeing you missed your former team, granting you connection with Daisy even if the way she went about it drove him absolutely nuts. Other days, you were sure he simply enjoyed a challenge and this was as good one of those as any – and he’d be caught dead before he’d admit in front of anyone that someone was able to crack into his system. Most days, you were content not to look given horse in the mouth.

Like clockwork, FRIDAY’s mechanical voice interrupted your thoughts:

“Agent Spectre, Mr. Stark would like to know if, I quote, you know anything about some punk kid sneaking into the mission logs again, maybe Little Miss Richter Scale, end of quote,” she stated, causing a snort of laughter actually escape you at Tony’s new and dead-on nickname. You’d have to tell Daisy that later – she’d have a good laugh at that

Me: You’re getting better and better.

Me: He’s onto you now though.

DJ: He should, he’s slacking, took him forever to notice

Sometimes, you wondered what would happen if Tony Stark and Daisy Johnson found themselves in one room and she’d tell him that to his face; but that was a thought to entertain another day.

“Thanks, FRIDAY. Tell Mr. Stark to relax. We’re safe, it is just Daisy.”

“Very well. Apologies for interrupting your free time, Agent Spectre. However, I was also tasked to inform you that Sergeant Wilson prepared enough lunch for an army and extended the invitation to join him to everyone on the team. Even to those who are currently on a mission out of state, which I find odd and, frankly, despicable.”

Even though the corner of your lips twitched at FRIDAY’s comment, your heart skipped a startled beat, a fist of cold feeling squeezing your stomach. The invitation was a nice gesture, even if not meant for you. You could read between the lines: the family the Avengers team had built themselves into, even if the second strangest you had ever seen, did not involve you. You were barely a part of the team, a temporary loan, so to speak, even as you had signed a contract. Extending the invitation to the team meant extending it to friends, to that very family. As kind and welcoming as Sam seemed, you certainly did not belong to that category.

The vibration of your phone startled you; the message as amusing as bittersweet.

DJ: Fine, keep your secrets, Ms Avenger

Right. Ms. Avenger. Case on point. You might be one, technically, on paper, but in spirit… hardly. At best, you were determined to try and prove that the way you controlled your abilities could be at least Avengers-adjacent. The harsh truth however, was that if anyone from your old team would have had it in them to become a true Avenger, it was Daisy herself. Alas, she was too busy running and flying the world with another team, protecting, teaching, and recruiting Inhumans... and saving the world in the process.

DJ: Crap gotta run

DJ: Number four is the one I think

Whoever you’re going with is gonna lose their shit when they see you, she added, once again making you snort, this time without humour.

Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. If chances of becoming a friend to an Avenger were astronomical, chances that Steve Rogers would be impressed by you dressing up to the nines were outside of all the realms known to Thor himself. But it was a nice sentiment, you supposed; the flicker of affection towards the optimist in Daisy was a testimony to that.

Me: Thank you for the help. Stay safe out there.

DJ: You too

DJ: But from what I saw about yesterday, you got it

DJ: …Ms Avenger

Shaking your head, this time unable to stop the smile taking over your lips, you set the phone down and ordered the dress to be delivered express, and moved onto shoes and a handbag; you ignored the growling of your hungry stomach and distantly couldn’t but wonder if maybe there’d be some leftovers of Sam’s pasta to have for lunch later.

Tony was not exaggerating when he was talking about the charity auction being a mission. A mission required preparation; having documents land in your inbox along with an alert of high-priority intel relevant to your mission lightning up your StarkWatch yesterday evening, you had never been more grateful for being obliged to read up on something.

As you were putting the last touches to your make-up in the quinjet bathroom, you sent another mental thank you to Tony, because the extensive files on all expected guests, besides having potential to be useful to you during the event, gave you the perfect excuse as to why leave last preparations to the flight.

Naturally, the intel itself was a message with a bitter aftertaste, because it highlighted your role and tasks. Represent. Make small-talk. Show interest. Compliment a healthy amount; meaning bootlick a bit, if necessary. You knew the dance and it had always made your head spin in the worst way. To show enough admiration and knowledge about the world’s finest to look professional and a bit of a fan, but not as a stalker, even as there were people among the attendees tonight who would have probably appreciated a stalker-level interest and considered it a compliment.

But despite the slight nausea hitting you when leafing through the files, you had appreciated the out Tony had given you, whether it was intentional or not; because with an excuse of mountains of intel to try to learn by heart, you didn’t have to sit opposite to Steve in the quinjet in awkward silence. Or worse, trying to make small talk with him, just as awkward. Or, in the worst-case scenario – which would be in the direct conflict with one of the mission’s laughable objectives, specifically trying not to kill each other – fight with him.

And you probably would have done exactly that because there was no way Captain America himself had been wrestled into this the same way you had. They might have had to twist his arm to make him go with you, but not to go. He had been given a choice and chose to attend, despite the concerns you had voiced. And you probably hadn’t been the only one, which meant Steve had to be hyperaware of the potential security issue and he deliberately ignored it. Of course. Why wouldn’t he? He was Mr. Captain America and nothing could ever happen to him; be it because he thought there was no danger and you were allegedly making it bigger deal than necessary or – which drove you all high up the wall and made you want to punch him into his damn perfect teeth or at least punch his stupidly firm pec – the threat was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Goddamn him.

You crumbled the fabric of your dress between your fingers in a firm grip as you breathed through the rush of pure indignation with him being a brave stubborn dismissive dumbass and breathed in slowly; you held your breath for a few seconds, and only then released it along with the grip on your dress. You blinked at yourself in the mirror and repeated the action, arranging your face into a neutral expression at least.

Tony might have as well come up with the idea to send the intel solely to prevent you from attempting to strangle Steven Grant Rogers before you even landed, so it would be polite to honour his efforts.

When you finally exited the bathroom and entered the main space, you found Steve in one of the seats with a tablet in his hand, the screen dimly illuminating his face. He looked up as you approached, rising to his feet almost as if on instinct, his lips slightly parted for a brief moment. His gaze glided over the dress from where it brushed your ankles, over the line of the skirt, the slit reaching mid-thigh opening and closing as you walked, revealing a silver of your leg tastefully and covering you again, then over the waist, V-shaped neckline ending mid-sternum, short sleeves with delicate frills. For a moment, the intensity of his gaze surprised you; but then you realized that he was committing the dress to memory to find you easily in the crowd in case any Avengers-related business came up.

Then, an obtrusively gentle thought nudged at your mind; he was an amateur artist. You had got a glimpse of him several times, a sketchbook and a pencil in his fingers, look distant or extremely focused on the paper in front of him. He could appreciate beauty – and the dress you chose was without doubt an embodiment of it. The glimmer of it was subtle and the sparkles sparce; in the rich dark blue blending into a purple just as dark, it resembled the sky just after dusk, with the first stars coming out. Whether he had a sense for fashion or not wouldn’t matter – the dress was, at least in your eyes, gorgeous. Not flashy, not too shiny to attract too much attention, but with an idea making up for the otherwise simple design.

When Steve met your eyes, the light of the quinjet made it appear as if there was a tinge of pink in his cheeks. And there actually might be, since his eyes lingered on the dress for a moment too long; which wouldn’t be a crime if you weren’t already wearing them, making it seem like he was staring.

“You look beautiful,” he said, the soft tone making it sound almost as if it escaped him unwittingly.

It was the most ordinary of compliments and yet, it surprised you that he had even paid it. Perhaps it shouldn’t have, as he was a product of his time – a time in which if men didn’t compliment a woman’s appearance, they were probably called louts. And yet. Even with that knowledge, something akin to warmth fluttered in your chest, a brief smile passing over your lips, the silent ‘thank you’ the least courtesy you could give in return.

If he had tried to commit your dress to memory, you’d allow yourself the same luxury. A quality black tuxedo with a faint navy-blue glint, pristine white shirt, a black bow-tie. His outfit would be but a drop in the sea, nothing that would stand out among those of other men; but you had the advantage of him being easily found in the crowd thanks to his physique alone. The broadness and strength he radiated could carry the weight of the world – and it felt like it did – narrowing beautifully into the trim waist in a ratio not even a loose jacket could hope to hide, let alone such well-fitting one which seemed to accentuate it a little more than was strictly necessary. With him towering over about ninety-five percent of people and having shoulders wider than about ninety-nine percent of the usual present company, he was truly hard to miss.

Unfortunately, it also made him an easy target who was truly hard to miss indeed.

And now you were staring and he was no doubt aware – it was impossible not to, less so with how much attention he paid to things. So you stood there in silence, awkward one, precisely the one you had wanted to avoid and yet managed to reach it in thirty seconds flat – but at least neither of you were yelling. Yet.

As glad as you were to see that Steve Rogers had clearly decided to leave whatever disagreements you had ever had back at the Tower for the sake of this mission, trying his best to be the exact opposite of antagonistic, you were not going to tell him he looked extremely good to make things even more awkward. You wouldn’t even think it, as right as the assessment was. It would be inappropriate, even as he had complimented you first.  You needed to be professional. There was a task at hand.

Right. The mission.

Steve was still watching you, something akin to curiosity in his gaze.

You cleared your throat, nodding towards the tablet in his hand.

“You were going through the files on the guests?”

Steve blinked, seemingly snapped from his thoughts.

“Yes. Have you?” he asked as he laid the tablet on the seat, straightening to his full height again; it was ridiculous how tall he seemed in the low-ceiling cabin of this type of quinjets. There was a faint smile on his lips, no tension in his jaw as he watched you; he already knew the answer and he wasn’t trying to provoke you.

Small talk it was.

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. You would swear a little twinkle of humour appeared in his eye – but it was probably just the lights reflecting in his cerulean blues. “Yesterday and today. Should be more than enough to represent properly.”

Alright, it must have been humour, because the corner of his lips twitched now at the lightest trace of defiance in your voice. Then he smiled fully, the spark burning brighter, your stomach somersaulting a bit.

Who were you kidding you had no idea; he looked more than just extremely good and handsome. In a different kind of suit than you were used to, bright eyes with their blue accentuated by the colour of his tuxedo, with uncharacteristically relaxed features and even a smile aimed at you, the beauty of him seemed so surreal you might have as well entered another dimension. Which, given your experience with Coulson’s team, was not unplausible. And yet, your heart fluttering had nothing to with fear as he went to sidestep you.

What was wrong with you today?

“Well… good. I’m sure you’ll have the two remaining objectives handled as well,” he said kindly.

You blinked, neurons firing in all directions, heart leaping to your throat. Surely, he didn’t just—the two remaining objectives. That wasn’t--- that didn’t mean anything. He probably didn’t receive the same documents, his mission package different from yours as he was one of the original Avengers, the strategist.

And yet, a worm of curiosity had already chewed its way through to your brain, an itch you needed to scratch otherwise you’d go crazy. Certainly, he couldn’t have implied-

He stepped out towards the bathroom, only to be stopped in his tracks by your impulsive words.

“Can I borrow your tablet for one more moment?” you blurted out, clearly taking him by surprise; but not unpleasantly. “I just… I just want to check on some of the guests again.”

“Sure.”

With the same faint smile adorning his absurdly handsome face, he took a few steps back to reach for the tablet, unlocking it for you and opening the file with individual documents for you to browse before taking his leave.

You weren’t sure why you needed to check – if you were a sucker for pain, needing to know your assumption he had only received three objectives was correct – but you opened the mission overview anyway.

A lump grew in your throat as you skimmed through the document, your stomach suddenly unbearably warm.

He didn’t mean it. He forgot there were four not three objectives, a sharp voice in your head argued, instantly opposed by another, even if less insistent, reminding you that Captain Rogers was believed to have eidetic memory and you had seen his impressive memory indeed in action before.

It didn’t matter. You were making a big deal out of nothing; and ocne you came back from this excuse of a mission, you needed to have your heart checked, because the irregularities in rhythm and the palpitations upon simply reading had to signal an underlying health issue.

But it was right there, in his device, in one of the documents he had just been reading through. The overview.

Location.

Time.

Two names.

Four objectives.

Four objectives which were no doubt written down by Tony, given the choice of words and their existence to begin with, because no one else would have treated an official document this way.

Make Avengers look good; Look good; Have fun (includes using Stark/Avengers card in the auction); Try not to kill each other.

You felt your cheeks heat up even though there was not a single reason to feel that way. You were a grown woman. You had been complimented countless times before, in much more flattering ways, though less playful ones. Steve was just being… polite. And a little teasing, trying to put you at ease, probably thinking you couldn’t handle yourself, having been informed about your… reluctance to attend the auction. His niceness was in overdrive since he had been literally given orders not to treat you as if he wanted to kill you. He didn’t mean it and even if he did, you had no business reacting this way.

But still. It seemed that Steve Rogers decided that for the sake of the mission, he would more than just leave your differences of opinions behind for the night; he decided to truly work hard on the one single objective that did not come easily to him. There was no other reason for that, but despite your better judgement, it brought a ghost of a smile to your face, one that felt a little stupid.

As you heard him open the door, you were quick to close the document and tap on a random one concerning the guests, just in case Steve would want to check. You pretended that you were too immersed in reading to address him as he walked to you, but there was no need.

The gentle swing of the quinjet slowing down made you forget about whatever he had been trying to imply alarmingly fast.

You were almost there; in the lion’s den. It was time to pull yourself together, be the picture perfect this mission required even if you were not. Just because your idea of a useful mission was different, you wouldn’t treat this one with any less focus or professionalism; even if you’d rather find yourself tied-up and gagged an abandoned warehouse in a middle of nowhere, with no back-up in sight, than kept a fake smile plastered to your face for hours.

Avenger or not, your task was to represent. And so you would, conveniently with the man who represented the goals and values of the team better than anyone else ever could. You’d do your best to support him in that, and you’d do so while fulfilling all the objectives of the mission indeed, even if you doubted that you’d be any better than an accessory the size of Steve’s cufflink. You doubted that Steve Rogers would need the slightest support in charming rich people and the staff alike.

Just for that, you mentally added a fifth objective, an objective anyone drawing up the document should have added themselves. For Steve, it would be not to be a dumbass and not to get himself hurt, hit by anti-serum, kidnapped or killed. For you, not to let any of these things happen to him.

It wouldn’t have been an issue in the first place if it was anyone else with you, but since Steve goddamn Rogers had decided to--- no. Not today. He truly was trying to be bearable. You’d meet him halfway; but you’d be damned if you didn’t keep your eyes open.

“I forgot to tell you earlier,” you murmured as the quinjet touched down on one of the rooftops on a nearby hotel, courtesy of Tony’s negotiating skills – his irresistible charm, as he would say – earning you Steve’s startled look. “You clean up well too.”

His shoulders sagged, eyebrow arching subtly, but his surprise melted into a slight smile again. “Thank you. Shall we?”

Like the gentleman he had been raised to be, he offered you an elbow as the ramp of the quinjet opened for you to step out. There was no need – you had walked on far worse surfaces than this in heels before, you had been forced to run and kick in them too – and you had to physically swallow the remark that would inform Steve about that. But you’d be an idiot to not see that he didn’t offer you an arm to be condescending; he did so to be nice. You could work with nice.

“Thanks.”

And with that, you stepped out, counting steps until you’d walk into the lion’s den indeed.

To say that functions, balls and auctions were not your scene would be a serious understatement. Not in the sense of you being unable to tackle them, no – you had plenty of experience – but in the sense of you absolutely despising them. Specifically, you couldn’t stand what people pretended to be when in that environment; and that included you.

It hadn’t always been like that; visiting events like this started off pleasant. People in luxury robes with wide smiles and subtle laughs echoing in glimmering halls were a thrilling environment before. Before you could fully understand what was happening, before you could read the room. It was only much later when you’d identify these events as necessary evil when working for SHIELD and the time between the two points was a long journey.

Your father would have sneaked into these, either in his own ways or through your mother’s alleged renown status; and you, naturally, went with them. She’d often leave you and your father to your own devices, charming guests into adoring her, speaking of her dedication to both her work and her family, particularly to her daughter, her tone speaking louder than her words in the case of the latter; contempt.

Meanwhile, your father was the complete opposite. He had you joined at his hip, a crutch for when his own tactics of pretending to be someone truly indispensable to SHIELD failed. If people roaming higher circles of society didn’t recognize him as the god’s gift to humanity he hoped to come across as, you’d come in; a charming young lady ready to take the world by storm, his beloved daughter, his pride and joy. Errors made that day, that week or past months didn’t matter – they didn’t exist at the moment, your performance always painted as perfect for the sake of the bragging.

It was a divine experience to receive so much praise, him sounding so earnest in front of all those people; it got sicker and more twisted the older you got, seeing the mask slipping on and off as it suited him, knowing that in the discomfort of home, you were none of what he described you as that to him. And yet. To be finally loved and seen as exceptional by your own father, the one person who had always believed in you and told you so; who wouldn’t want that? Just a taste; like melting hot chocolate on your tongue, thoroughly warming your very being, the softest of blankets that turned scratchy the moment you left the room, snatched away to leave you out in the cold reality of being born a hope and growing up a failure. But those moments, those moments you craved as much as you hated them. Because you knew they would never last.

It was one of the many contradictions of your childhood and adolescence, one of many topics of your therapy sessions that seemed to have no end. It reminded you of what Lincoln always said – that every Inhuman had a purpose and that every Inhuman’s power reflected, to a point, who they were. The way you felt you were often being pulled in two directions, loved and despised, dotted on and ignored, obedient and rebellious, to be exactly who your father had always intended for you to be and find your own path – or pretend you could, for a bit at least, to give him a glimpse of a real disappointment; all goals in direct opposition to each other. You were surprised your ability wasn’t the same as Alisha’s who could literally split herself into several images of herself. But you were hardly an overachiever, were you? You had learned long time ago that perfection was out of your reach, no matter how much you’d cry and bleed and clawed your way through to it, only to see the top of the mountain move when your fingers had almost touched it at last. And on top of that mountain; people like Steve Rogers. The man who could shove it into anyone’s face that it wasn’t that the summit was too high; it was just that they were too small of a person. That you weren’t enough.

It wasn’t fair to despise him for it. But it wasn’t fair that some of these people could insult you to your face and imply you were a lesser Avenger – while representing them nevertheless – and you had no chance to truly fight back without somewhat proving them right.

About a hundred and then some boring conversations later, encounters in which you felt your skin crawl because you hated rubbing elbows, facing fake smiles and carefully crafted politeness with veiled insults weaved between the words of those who could afford it, you were ready to take a break and you were afraid it was beginning to show too.

Captain Steve Rogers, of course, did not seem tired of pleasantries in the slightest; the golden boy still roamed among the crowds, more than willing to engage in any conversation, shaking hands and rubbing elbows indeed as if he had been born to do exactly that. Crowds loved him and that was a fact, whether what Tony had insinuated was correct or not and Steve couldn’t stand this kind environment either indeed.

You had to give it to Steve, however – and truly, you should have expected it, because this was Steve Rogers, originally a little man who could not stand people looking down at others, less so diminish someone’s worth, and he was the protector, the ultimate good guy, the perfection personified – the encounters you had handled side by side with him did not see you neglected. Quite the opposite. If someone didn’t recognize you, which applied to the majority, he was happy to introduce you, or, as it had been in most cases, he had you introduce yourself and only then he highlighted your importance to the team if anyone seemed less that impressed.

Contrary to what you would believe, his words and demeanour, however, pushed the icky sensation of the scene away rather than intensified it. Unlike your father, Steve didn’t have you trail after him. He didn’t belittle you to lift himself up. He didn’t boast about his brilliant decision to reassign you to the team since you were so useful When he spoke of you as the new addition to the team, he didn’t highlight your most recent accomplishment either, not with a condescending or patronizing tone or words that would make it sound as if he as saying oh she saved a few people just two days ago, including Natasha Romanoff, someone give her a candy.

Steve didn’t speak of you as if you were hisachievement, didn’t speak of letting you join the team, of the cooperation being his or their choice.

“We are honoured to have her join the team,” he’d say instead.

“With every mission she takes on, she proves how fortunate we are that she is one of us.”

“Her contributions to our common goal are invaluable.”

“She is an essential part of our team and we are thankful she continues to make this world a safer place with the rest of us.”

On one hand, it was almost sweet; on the other, it was irritating. You didn’t need him to earn you their respect and it should make you livid he was trying to do that, to play the hero who’d rush to your rescue. To a point, it did, because you could fight your own battles; but this battlefield tended to make you slip into a mindset you hated – made you slip into a skin you hated wearing. Still, Steve’s tendency to make it his personal mission that you were not overshadowed by him – a futile effort truly – should make your blood boil, because there he was, the world’s mightiest saviour in action again.

But the way his body language changed when someone eyed you as if you were an unwanted addition to the conversation seemed to whisper of other things than self-proclaimed white knight needing to sweep in; it expressed itself as a personal insult to him that your supposed brilliance was not acknowledged. It seemed almost as if he was gesturing to you wildly with his large palms, his voice as if demanding from the people he spoke to: do you really not see how amazing she is? Are you an idiot? Naturally, he was doing so in much distinguished manner, but that was how it felt.

You were certain someone must have got to you before Tony did back in the park, landing a hit to your head or two, causing a microtrauma that only now manifested in your entirely skewed perception and hallucinations. They must have, there was no other plausible explanation. Or maybe you had actually died; laying your life for Natasha’s would have certainly been a worthy cause. Or perhaps it wasn’t so dramatic and you had simply slipped into a coma and this was some weird manifestation of your brain recovering.

And yet, you had a feeling that if you pinched yourself, you would still feel as grounded in this strange reality as you did now, the intense surge of affection for the man still overwhelming, the satisfaction of seeing the swellheads meek and slightly embarrassed at Steve’s tone upon them dismissing you curling hot in your core. You needed to stop revel in it so much.

But be as it might, despite trying to carefully shield yourself from the effect of Steve’s very public words of appreciation due to knowing it wouldn’t last, you felt yourself grow taller than you ever had been in an event like this. You didn’t feel as obliged to smile politely just for the sake of pleasing others, even as you did smile. Despite the presence of Captain America, larger than life, you felt confident and powerful, even if this kind of feeling normally only came when you were on a mission with the target already in your pocket.

And yet, this surge of courage – and all the wondering about what an alternate reality you had entered – didn’t make the game of social chess less exhausting or brought it closer to your ideas of fun. After almost another hour of wandering on your own, tending to every conversation necessary and even those less necessary, you did find yourself in a need of a break and you liked to think you deserved one.

Naturally, fate – if there was such thing – did not grant you such courtesy.

When you finally did find yourself at the bar, it was one godawful encounter later – a single polite conversation that had sucked all life out of you, all of the little glow you felt you had gathered swept away with a single snap of fingers. It was unfair. It was unfair that your mother still had such hold on you after a lifetime of you being nothing but a bug on her windshield as she tried to drive into the sunset of her own glory, even months and months after her final abandonment.

The matter was only worse since it wasn’t even her. Just a distant colleague – her superior, no less. A few minutes, every second dragging since the moment Doctor Franklin had mentioned your mother, and you were ready to hit the bar for something far stronger than champagne.

“Ah, I knew I saw a resemblance. You must be so proud to wear your mother’s features and name. A strong woman, a survivor, truly dedicated to science, exploring the wonders of the nature of Inhuman transformation. Examining her own genetic code to be able to share fascinating facts of the uniqueness of her case. Even the draft of her study was most intriguing… pardon me, what was it that your abilities are after you, unlike her, simply acquired powers like everyone else?”

It shouldn’t have affected you; but it did. With what felt like chunks of metal in your stomach, the tickle of nausea in the back of your throat, you were almost proud you managed to hold somewhat of a smile, actually uncertain if the woman was clueless in the matter of politeness and tact or whether she was making a calculated insult.

“I’m afraid the exact nature of my abilities is classified, ma’am,” you replied. The words, even if they should feel full of vindication, tasted bitter on your tongue.

Trust your mother to finally find her exceptionality and built the pinnacle of her career on a flaw in her genetic code. Of fucking course. Making herself the centre of attention while being the primary source of that attention at the same time; what a brilliant move. Someone should give her a damn Nobel. You really were doing something wrong in your life.

So truly, you felt like were entitled to a breather as you walked away with a polite nod, trying not to throw up in your mouth as the world got slightly blurry at the edges for a moment, your heart pounding, knees feeling a little weak. You felt the sticky remnants of Doctor Franklin’s words linger on your skin, resisting the urge to rub it off.

You deserved a shot of something stronger. You weren’t sure anything weaker than absinth would do the trick and help you snap from the strange haze your body slipped into; but facing the man behind the improvised bar, you couldn’t make yourself ask for that however.

Well-aware that you needed to keep at least some face since the mission of the evening was to represent, you opted for vodka, small shot only. And despite the weary conversations, you didn’t forget: in addition to representing, you wanted to be ready to fight whoever could possibly go after Rogers. As much as you’d like to get wasted to feel actual nausea instead, something tangible and real like the burn of the strongest alcohol known to mankind, you couldn’t. Vodka it was.

You turned the shot bottoms-up, focusing fully on the hot trickle down your throat, the fire dampening all your other senses; and for a few second, it was bliss.

Until your nostrils were hit by an unfairly familiar cologne and aftershave, a deep timbre soaking into your bones whenever spoken despite how much you tried not to let it do exactly that.

“Having fun as we were ordered?”

You froze, shame, indignation and the alcohol lightning you up like a wildfire.

Great, Mr. Morality is here, you thought darkly, setting the glass down, turning to Steve with poorly masked annoyance. Annoyance which was quickly wiped out, the flames licking at your gut put out.

You expected his face to be full of judgement, anger and disappointment; but much like his voice had been, you realized, it was free of any bite or sting, simply showing light amusement and compassion, a slightly worried crinkle between his brows.

His voice had been quiet, purposely so, as not to attract lookers-on. It was a little naïve – to think he could walk in anywhere without at least ten pairs of eyes following him – but it was nice of him that he was trying not to embarrass you by publicly calling you an alcoholic.

But the gentle mix of emotion adorning his expression only made your stomach twist. It was a great paradox really; it would be so much easier to deal with tonight if he was being insufferable and judged you. But that bastard, the irritatingly handsome bastard, was being simply amazing. A much greater person you could ever be. And he didn’t mean to, probably – but he was just screaming exactly that to your face with every little action he had opted for tonight.

Not his fault, not his fault, you tried to remind yourself as he continued to watch you, curiosity sneaking into his gaze now.

Make Avengers look good.

Look good.

Have fun.

Do not kill each other.

Do not kill each other. Got it.

“Guilty as charged,” you said finally, the light tone you had hoped for not coming out quite right; but he didn’t hold it against you.

“Nothing to be guilty about,” he said, shrugging subtly. “I… might have gone for one of those myself had it had any effect on me.”

Right, you realized. Supersoldier. Accelerated healing, fast metabolism. You did happen to know he burned off most things even faster than other men built like mountains. Shorter and less broad mountains, that was.

You felt you head instinctively tilt to side a bit, contemplating what he said without spelling it out. He didn’t seemlike he needed a strong drink. In fact, he seemed perfectly like a fish in water among the sea of piranhas of people – and yes, you were aware that was a harsh judgement on some of them who were indeed rather pleasant to talk to – but Tony’s words echoed in your head.

He’s good at rubbing elbows, even if he hates it, he had said. Steve was exactly that; but apparently, he was also pretty great at hiding his distaste.

Of course that he was, you thought bitterly, even as a hint of compassion nudged at your mind; just because he was good at disguising it, it didn’t mean he didn’t feel just as sick filling the role of the most excellent companion.  

“You could do it just to feel the heat,” you suggested half-heartedly, regretting the words as soon as they left your mind.

You had to phrase it just like that, didn’t you.

Steve watched you with unnerving intensity for a moment, before he seemed to shake off whatever dark thought had occurred to him, a small smile appearing on his face.

“That is true, but somehow it’s even more disappointing if that’s the only consequence, you know?”

“…right.”

He cleared his throat, your gaze falling to his bowtie as he released you from the trap of his gaze.

“Either way. Would you like to dance?”

Your head snapped back up, shock no doubt painting your face, rendering you mute. He wasn’t--- oh he was.

Despite your expression – one painfully resembling of a deer in the headlights of an off-road SUV coming at it at hundred miles an hour – he seemed unfazed, a slight twinkle of amusement in his eye barely noticeable in the otherwise genuine demeanour. You frowned, suspicion dying out as fast as it had arisen.

Whatever motive he had to ask, it couldn’t hurt the mission, you supposed. And it would be impolite to decline. You had promised yourself to meet him halfway in his attempts to be civil; and he had gone far beyond that. For the past two weeks, not having confronted you about either the flash-drive situation nor the went-full-spectre-in-a-public-park incident, that had been him being civil. Tonight, he was courteous even. Pleasant. Kind. You had no idea why he hadn’t sought you out to get answers or scold you, nor why he went this far out of his way to treat you like this tonight, but you had enough common sense not to poke even as it had been eating away at the back of your mind.

You just needed to accept it and be thankful, and needed to aid the common goal; and maybe, just maybe, revel in it and store the memory for later, even if such luxuries only burned with emptiness once they were gone.

But how could you do any different?

“Sure,” you said simply. “Why not.”

How could you feel any different when his lips smiled half-heartedly, but his eyes showed true warmth? A startling warmth almost; but it was nothing in comparison to the heat of his body when he offered you his elbow and led you to the small dancefloor in the adjacent room with only a few high tables lining the walls; it was nothing in comparison to the soft jolt of electricity that ran through your nerves all the way down your spine when his hand took yours carefully, eyes fixed on your face, checking for any sign of discomfort when he pulled you close at the first notes of a waltz.

Up close, without either of you screaming into each other’s faces, he was painfully beautiful; you knew that. You knew that already, because you had played the forbidden game of imagining what it would be like to see his face from this distance; but the reality of it was startling, a tingle of a thrill and pain at once. Inches close and miles away from reach. To be at the receiving end of the look in his eyes, painted partly by delusion and the aforementioned hits in the head you had probably suffered, was the sweetest torture.

It was impossible to ignore his firm but gentle grip, his confident lead; a wall of perfectly controlled muscle, hard planes of his body and yet its surprising softness and warmth, leaving your head spinning and sending your thoughts to an indecent dangerous direction; what would it be to feel him even closer? What would it be like to—

You’d never know. For a large part, of your own doing; for another part, of his own, because you had never met a more irritating person in your life and you had met a quite a few. He was impossible in his very unique different way – even as you knew that was tainted by your own perception – he was impossible in a way you couldn’t but want anyway.

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear, snapping you from your useless musings back to reality.

Yeah, thanks, I was signed up for ballet class about as soon as I could walk, because it should have helped my posture and body coordination in preparation for working for SHIELD before I could attend martial class lessons. Because a kid younger of six years getting punched would have been a bad image for my parents. Not that I knew any of that at that time. Anyway, I had to rediscover my love for dancing much later on-

You cut off your train of thought, swallowing the unnecessarily hostile and dark truth. Instead, you reciprocated his easy subtle smile, something inside your quivering at the casualness and sincerity of the compliment.

“Depends on the lead, right?” you murmured.

Mentally, you sighed, cursing yourself for your loose mouth.

You could have said something along the lines of you too, and it would be an understatement; Steve’s lead indeed was firm but not forceful, elegant ease without a shred of indecency, his sense of rhythm impeccable, which was much more than you could say about some of your companions on the dancefloor. But no; you chose to mention his leading skills, instantly circling back to what was bothering you – you having standing up to his lead as a Captain before and him not mentioning it. He had kept blissfully quiet and here you were, dangling the topic you should have been glad had been put to rest in front of him as if you wanted him to take the bait no matter the cost.

You really must have been hit in the head; or perhaps you were finally returning to normal yourself.

But Steve Rogers was a man of many faces and surprises up his sleeves, apparently. His smile only widened briefly at your note, eyes flashing with amusement, before a little frown creased his brow.

“Don’t sell yourself so short.”

You gulped. Again. He complimented you with such ease, as if it was the most natural thing in the world; and it seemed like he meant every bit. The way your heart fluttered at that ached pleasantly. Hadn’t it been for the sober voice in the back of your head, telling you were on a borrowed time of this kind of treatment, it wouldn’t ache at all. It almost, almost didn’t.

Because the one word you had left out when thinking about his lead on the dancefloor, having avoided it on purpose, was safe. You entered an uncharted territory tonight; you knew Captain America’s lead from your numerous missions you had been chosen for under his command. And even as you had challenged his leadership before, you trusted him on that front. But tonight was a very different thing; and still, he somehow emitted the same aura, in a considerably more intimate way.

It was terrifying.

But as much as you were taken aback, with no clue how to even respond to that, your instincts – probably all over the place, because had you been in sound mind, you would have run for the hills before accepting his offer in the first place – whispered you were safe indeed.

And if you’d turn it into a joke, you’d be even safer.

“If that was a reference to my height, I’d like to point out everyone is short compared to you. And that is with all the extra inches--- that my heels have.”

Oh for god’s-

Your fingers flexed reflexively on his arm; your hand in his would have twitched if he hadn’t held it so firmly. You did not just say that, did you? Closing your eyes briefly, you felt your face burn hot, the furnace of Steve’s body suddenly feeling like ice in comparison. Why on Earth did you talk about inches? First feeling the heat, then this, damn Freudian slips, damn his well-fitting suit and handsome face-

Bless him, his chuckle was good-natured and not in the slightest dirty – then again, you should have expected nothing less from the golden boy, shouldn’t you? He wouldn’t hold it against you and had it been anyone else, you would have been grateful, much like in any other situation. But this was him and tonight your mission was literally to avoid this kind of embarrassing phrasing.

“You know what I meant,” he said, not unkindly – much to your relief and irritation.

You hummed noncommittally, still processing this was somehow a reality you had found yourself in. A reality in which Steve Rogers was a pleasant company, kept you close and safe enough that you had spent several moments with your eyes closed while dancing without fearing you’d end up with a broken ankle, a reality where-

“I wanted to apologize.”

-he just said he was sorry.

Your eyes snapped open, your step, a second nature you barely needed to think about, faltering just a fraction. You found your footing with the very next step and perhaps not even Steve had noticed; but he for sure must have noticed the undiluted shock that overtook your features.

Yet, he held calm in the face of your awe and bewilderment, gaze fixed on yours whispering of nothing but sincerity and regret indeed.

He was apologizing.The sudden lump in your throat was the only thing in physical reality that felt real at all; the rest truly must have been but a fever dream. That and the frantic beats of your heart.

“For what?” you asked quietly.

You weren’t trying to be petty, if he truly was apologizing. You meant it.

Naturally, you had a good idea what he was referring to, but that was part of the reason why it was so puzzling; more so since he now knew what the intel was about, since he was aware who exactly you put in danger by failing. Then again, the fact you were both here despite it told you all over again that he didn’t let that bother him too much.

But even with him deliberately ignoring the threat…

Yes, he had not acted very thoughtfully, but whether you liked it or not, he wasyour superior, he had put together that mission and so you understood the frustration he had felt at the moment. Hell, you had felt it yourself – you would have yelled at yourself too. And looking back, you knew that some of your momentary view of his behaviour and attitude, of his actions, stemmed from the fact you had been disappointed in yourself too; and that most time, he did in fact realize he could do wrong and that he in fact did care for every single member of the team. He probably did give a damn about the fact that you – your spectre anyway – got shot. He probably cared about the fact that two days ago, you left a big damn opening when you projected in public without making sure you had someone in your corner.

You weren’t sure that there was any need to apologize, even with him yelling at you in front of everyone to the point where you hadn’t been able to stand it and a few tears had escaped you – because damn, did he touch a nerve – even if he had been a bit of an asshole.

Most people apologized because they felt the need to ease their conscience, to keep up appearances; but seeing Steve now, the soft and strict lines of his face, told you that he was apologizing for your benefit mainly. It would be sweet if it was so irritating.

Golden boy. Shoved straight to your face. You could never be as good as him, because he simply wasn’t human – and you were the Inhuman from the pair. God, he had his hands on you and he didn’t even try to cop a feel or anything for crying out loud. He was being kind and respectful and so damn beautiful and tall.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he said slowly, gaze intent as if he wanted to make sure you absorbed every word. “I shouldn’t have done that to begin with, but the witnesses made it even worse. And all you did was making a quick decision in a difficult situation, according to your best conscience no doubt. I might not have agreed with it, but you still didn’t deserve such treatment.”

“And you’d do the same,” you added.

You almost slapped your hand over your mouth as soon as the words were out.

This was what happened when you felt safe. You talked back. Dammit.

You could see – and feel, because his chest was practically brushing yours, something you were hyperaware of even as you tried your best not to be– him breathe in to retort.

You really needed to have your head checked out. You should have just taken the apology and cherish it, like any normal person, even if it irked you that Steve Rogers was capable of self-reflection and had enough strength to admit his shortcomings. He was simply better than everyone else. It was easy to see that with no emergency in sight, but that didn’t make it easier to accept that and act accordingly every second of the day.

Yet, you tried at least now.

“Sorry! Sorry. Don’t push it, Spectre. Got it,” you blurted out, fixing a quick smile and you would have sworn you had seen a sparkle on mischief in his blue irises under the indignation. You cleared your throat. “Apology accepted, Captain.”

His relaxed his tense jaw, gaze softening further; painfully so.

“Thank you. And I thought you knew you could call me Steve.”

Golden boy – case on point. You swallowed, unable to keep the swirl of warmth in your chest from creeping into your voice even as you knew you were diving into dangerous waters with reckless abandon by following his request.

“Apology accepted, Steve.”

If your voice was warm, his smile was half the power of the sun, heating your very bones, your heart stumbling in your chest. You should run; you should run because you were never going to receive a gift like that again and the longer you basked in it, the worse it would be when it was gone. But you had already established that sometimes, you couldn’t help but throw caution out of the window despite knowing how much it would hurt later when you’d have to go and scramble to gather it again, hadn’t you?

And so when the song blended into another, the smallest squeeze to your fingers a wordless question, you nodded against your better judgement.

Steve’s smile grew a fraction, feet quick to adjust to the new rhythm, the air around you warmer another few degrees. It was hard to let his apology and kindness linger in the air and not react to it; even as you needed to breathe in and out a few times, eyes examining his face carefully as to predict whether what you were about to say would come back stabbing you in the back.

“I’m sorry for my outburst too. I… acted emotional.” As you recalled the traitorous tears that had escaped you, you thought that to say that was an understatement, but Steve didn’t seem to hold it against you. Instead, he listened with unnerving intent to all you had to say. “Which isn’t an excuse, but I’m still sorry. I… didn’t exactly watched my tongue. I mean, I didn’t-“

­-I didn’t mean what I said, you wanted to say, your voice dying in your throat at the startingly gentle blue of Steve’s eyes, your breath hitching at the sudden vice squeezing your chest. This moment, whatever it was, was becoming overwhelming fast; and you found yourself unable to force the words out.

Because they weren’t true; you had definitely meant a few things, your anger with Steve snapping you back when you had been this close to gathering intel on something that threatened, without exaggeration, his life, just because he had been outraged at… whatever, that was very real. Much like him, you had had a reason for your outburst; and for that itself, you couldn’t apologize. Not when you wouldn’t mean it. Not when he was looking at you like he’d trust anything you said. You couldn’t but reciprocate his honesty even if it should earn you an official demerit from Captain America himself.

“…I didn’t mean at least half of the things I said.”

Steve’s welcoming expression shifted in an instant, your heart already startling in reaction to the change, muscles tensing in an instinctual fight-or-flight response.

And then your brain caught up.

Steve was grinning. He was grinning with mischief lightning up his face bright, humour dancing in his eyes – good-natured humour without a single trace of offense, but maybe with a little speckle of surprise; and if you looked close enough and entertained the thought, pride.

And by god he was breath-taking, leaving you feel like you had flown too close to the sun for a moment unaware that the inevitable fall would kill you.

“Well, as long as it was only a half,” he hummed, his amusement audible in his voice too. There was a strange but not unpleasant tilt to it; almost as if he knew that if he simply accepted your apology right away, the situation would have had you run for the hills indeed. “Apology accepted, Spectre.”

You gulped, taking a wavering breath, flying just a little higher. “You know you can call me by my first name too, right?”

That was only fair, no? That was what you told yourself until Steve smiled softly and repeated himself slowly, this time with your name indeed. That was when you realized you really had caught yourself in a foolish indulgence, because the feeling washing over you was… nice. Very, very nice. His tone, his words were both indescribably nice, and so was the way he held you to lead your through the room without an ounce of indecency, and so was his proximity and his warmth. It was dangerously nice and you felt your chest, having briefly be filled with that tender fragile feeling, tighten instead.

And then Steve spoke up again.

“…and you’re probably right.”

Your eyebrows shot up, gasping; and had you any different company than a room full of important or at least self-important people dressed in black-tie attire, you wouldn’t have stopped your jaw from falling.

Did he just-

Stop the presses! you wanted to shout.

Did he just admit he himself was a hothead?

What peculiar kind of an alternate reality had you entered indeed to see Steve Rogers admit he had been a hypocrite?

This was simply too satisfying to be true.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m the best example,” he added.

You found yourself chuckling through your shock, earning a glare that might have no anger in it, but certainly emitted indignation and gravity. Except the corners of Steve’s lips were twitching.

Damn him. Damn him and his charming side. Since when did he have a charming side and engaged in self-reflection so deep?

Since always, an annoying voice whispered in your head, reminding you that at certain times, you were, in fact, very well aware that Steve Rogers was just as golden as people claimed – even if in way they couldn’t hope to fathom and neither could, not fully.

“Nah, I think it’s one of the very rare traits of yours that should definitely be copied,” you retorted cheekily, never having time to wonder if you went too far since Steve simply kept him mouth shut.

It was a good thing he did, because if he didn’t, you might get tangled in your lie; and might have to admit that you believed that while there were a few of those that shouldn’t be copied in order for the world to maintain some shreds of sanity, there were many more of those which, should they be replicated, would make the world a better place. He probably knew that anyway; he strived to be the example to all. He didn’t need to hear it from you, didn’t need to know that despite your disagreements, you felt everything but contempt for him, with respect on top of the list. And then there was the fact that you were not blind to him being literally meant to be built like the peak of man and looked precisely like it.

And still, his silence surprised you. Despite what you thought of him on better days, it was still a wonder he didn’t try to disprove you; he was full of surprises tonight.

Then again, that was probably the point.

“You know, Tony and Pepper would probably have had no problem coming here tonight,” you spoke lowly into to the silence that settled between you. “They just pushed us together to do something like this.”

Steve’s eyebrows jumped a bit, a brief smirk passing his lips.

“Well-aware. Does that bother you?” he asked, head tilted to side slightly.

You pondered his question for a bit, not sure why. You could have easily said anything, the first or the second or third lie popping up in your mind. But his genuinely curious gaze observing you as he waited for your response, his demeanour the whole evening, and his surprisingly open expression made you want to tell the truth again.

“Not that much. You’re not a bad dancer yourself,” you teased him lightly, feeling your lips permanently stuck in a smile now.

His own smirk melted into a smile again as well, soft crinkle in the corner of his eye.

“Thank you. I know I said it before, but you do look beautiful.”

You blinked.

There he went again, driving his point across; he wanted you to think, to believe perhaps, that his compliments were genuine, not a turn of speech. Why? And what could you even say to that when he kept looking at you like he meant it, the world around you blurring a bit, falling into but a background noise, years of training and his confident hold on you leading you through the dancefloor with ease still, even as the song must have changed again. Had it?

You wished conversation would come just as easy, even when emotions swirled in your chest wilder than your skirts around your calves.

“…thanks. Uhm, Tony said to buy something nice-“

“Mission accomplished, it suits you-“

“-I think he was probably sick of us clashing a lot lately,” you added quickly, almost speaking over him.

He was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for – after all, he had brought up the topic of your fight in an environment where it would have been rude of you to flee just in case you wanted to and he wasn’t called a master strategist for nothing – so he caught your attempt to deflect. And he graced it with brief silence, not pushing, letting your words hang in the air for a moment. Golden boy. Perfect. Too good.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he hummed, one corner of his lips rising higher, his smile almost boyish now. “Did I mention I was sorry?”

“Yeah... did I?”

“You did.”

“Good,” you muttered, blissfully lost in his gentle gaze, even as you had to crane you neck a bit.

The moment was sweet. Slightly electric. Surprisingly comfortable. Peaceful.

Peace.

That was a specific word. With a pang in your chest, it occurred to you that was precisely what it was that Tony intended to achieve when he assigned you to this. To begin to renew the peace that had been within the Avengers family before your presence disrupted it. And Steve had accepted the invitation with you attached to it because he saw the importance of the team holding together from the strategic point of view.

Tonight was a mission. Necessary networking, even as Steve had tried to make it feel like anything but, and necessary attempt at smoothening the relationships within the team. Yes, it was beautiful, but Tony himself had called you a Cinderella. This was but a fairy-tale. An illusion. A projection.

The very spectre of you and Steve, of you being a full Avenger.

Once tonight was over, you’d have to snap back, like you always did. And like always, the pain of what you had lost as a spectre, be it blood or a warm embrace, would linger too. Back in your cold aching reality.

But not in Steve’s; Steve would remain who he was, to the world, to his team, to his friends. To you. It had been a sweet sentiment, a good-natured attempt; and for the night, it lasted. Once again, you felt played by your own naivety, already feeling your waxed wings melting and slowly prepared yourself for the brutal landing.

You kept up your smile, even as you felt the pleasant hum in your ribcage fall silent, your eyes not burning, because there was no reason for it, was there?

“You have good friends, Steve,” you whispered, the blue of his gaze warming up with fondness as he no doubt agreed. “They might be nosy, but they mean well.”

“And they are your friends too,” he replied softly, the pang in your ribcage stronger this time. He believed that, he genuinely did. Maybe that was why it hurt so much; he had seen the worst of the world and believed in the best still; you could read it in his actions, in his expression right now.

But you couldn’t bear it anymore, your gaze falling to the smooth fabric of his bowtie, contrasting with the pristinely white shirt indeed, just as you had known from the start he would wear. Pure. The symbol of all goodness in your culture. Just like him.

You heard what he was saying and yes, it was a tempting thought you had fallen for before. That you could be friends with the team, that the others cared – but you could count the number of people who cared for you on one hand and still had fingers left. People cared for your abilities, admired them maybe, sure. But you were a realist. Even before the Natasha incident – which truly was just her doing her job – you knew and you kept repeating it to yourself, because entertaining any other possibility was dangerous: your abilities, your results or the lack of them, those were what truly mattered. To everyone. To your father, eventually your mother too, to your SHIELD team, to your fellow Avengers. To Steve too. Had those powers come in a different meatsuit than yours, it wouldn’t change a thing. You were just a casing for what they needed.

It wasn’t okay, but it was alright.

The thing was, you couldn’t make Steve admit that – not him. He was a good man – infuriating one, yes, not without fault, yes, but incredibly undeniably good in his core. All the Avengers cared for people too, you would be an idiot not to see it, but if there was one person who would try to look the furthest beyond the abilities you carried, it would be him. Perhaps that was the scariest part of tonight – of him being not only civil, but perfectly pleasant and meaning it. Because he was just that perfect.

And perfect was never in your reach.

“Sure,” you replied absently as you looked up again.

You could tell his own gaze never left your face; and he no doubt noticed the change. His eyes were roaming your features, searching, wondering and seeing; you found yourself slipping into a neutral mask, your way too relaxed stance straightening, muscles tensing.

You only tensed further when you recognized softness and understanding creeping into his gaze, his voice quiet.

“You know-“

You thanked your lucky stars when the song ended and you were allowed to step back from him with an awkward smile.

“I’m going to find the restroom, excuse me.”

You swallowed heavily upon seeing something akin to disappointment and exasperation on his face; but when you pulled away, he didn’t stop you, didn’t use his strength to keep you in place, leaving the choice – as much as he clearly not approved of it – to you. You tried to force your smile further, grateful for that if not for nothing else.

“Thank you for the dance, stranger.”

And with that, you disappeared to the crowd, well-aware that if he wanted, he could have followed, because even in the sea of robes, his eidetic memory told him exactly what yours looked like.

Getting a fifteen-minute break from people, one in particular, was more than generous and yet you granted it to yourself; because putting yourself back together took time. Not for the first time, you sent a silent thank you to Agent May for having taught you her ways of accepting your emotions as they were, locking them away for later and channel them in the right direction when needed.

If you counted your dances with Steve – even as you tried very hard not to think about them – it added up for almost half an hour of the breather you had planned when getting the drink. You needed to go back to work, back to networking, because it was getting late; you had no doubt there were still people to talk to, no matter how efficient your colleague had been.

As you walked the halls with a smile arranged on your face, nodding politely at people admiring the various pieces of art of all forms, from drawings and paintings to sculptures and installations, your gaze fell on one of auctioned objects.

You smile slipped, your steps faltering along with the steady beat of your heart; and then you forced the corners of your lips back up, nails digging into the back of your hand as you folded them in front of your abdomen, to stop yourself from running to the glass stand where what seemed like a very old artifact was laid proudly on display.

And by old, you meant thousands of years old. And you really, really prayed that you were wrong, that your mind was simply playing tricks on you to avoid the emotional turmoil of today, to-

“Son of a-”

Three more steps closer and the curse was on your lips before you could swallow it completely, heart thundering in your chest against the sudden tightness. You didn’t like to be wrong; but in this particular case, you really wished you had been.

But apparently not.

See, this is why we can’t have nice things, you thought to yourself as you released a wavering breath and took off in the search of Steve, as if you hadn’t run from what seemed to be particularly nice things yourself only a little over ten minutes ago.

You swallowed the panic rising in your throat as you caught a glimpse of him talking to an elderly couple, telling yourself that your discovery was the only reason for that. Because that would be plausible and completely valid; an appearance of what SHIELD called an 0-8-4, an object of unknown origin, was never good news.

Except you were rather certain of its origin and that only made it worse.

Steve spotted you now, a small smile lighting up his face as if you hadn’t just taken an escape from when he tried to convince you were a part of the team in the friendliest sense of the word, gesturing to you lightly so the couple turned to you as well.

You smiled wider, squeezed your hand stronger. Too bad – the Lewises – had seemed nice enough when you had read up on them, were one of the rare attendees who were here for their genuine interest in art.

“Good evening, I am so sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Lewis, Mr. Lewis,” you said sincerely, introducing yourself as the lady already extended her hand to you, followed by her husband’s. “It is a pleasure to meet you and I would be very happy to talk to you if you’d be willing, but I need to borrow Captain Rogers for a little bit-“  

“By all means, Agent, don’t let a couple of old folks keep you two,” Mrs. Lewis chuckled, gently touching Steve’s forearm as she smiled at him almost motherly. “Thank you, young man, it’s nice to see bright young minds interested in conversations about thought-provoking art. Do find us if you can spare another minute later.”

“I would personally use the words lovely couple, Mrs. Lewis,” you said warmly before turning to Mr. Lewis. “I promise to bring him back as soon as possible.”

“It’s been a pleasure,” Steve added as he covered her feebly hand on his, squeezing gently. “Agent?”

“Just a small issue, I’m sure it can be dealt with quickly,” you assured him in front of them, your face growing more serious the second you turned away, your voice falling so low only his enhanced hearing could hopefully catch it. “Thought-provoking art indeed. There’s an 0-8-4 on the items list.”

The way Steve’s back straightened, a sign of him turning mission-alert in an instant, would have been a treat to watch in any other circumstance, you supposed. But not in yours. And not in this case.

As you walked away, he followed your unhurried tempo, stopping by the displays briefly when you did, as if you were simply admiring the art. His face gave away nothing unusual happening beyond a minor inconvenience; you weren’t sure if he believed you were making a big deal out of nothing or if he was that good of an actor.

“Anything you encountered before? Potentially how dangerous are we talking?”

His voice had dropped too, but barely enough for you to hear. To an untrained eye, it probably looked like a normal hushed conversation, a couple – of friends – sharing opinions on the auction items indeed. Good. You didn’t need to spread panic on top of barely containing your own.

“Yes and no, I only recognize the symbols. And I can’t tell, but I wouldn’t underestimate it,” you uttered as you gradually moved closer, the artifact now in sight.

Steve stood diagonally beside you, barely a step behind your shoulder; he could keep his voice very low that way, practically whispering to your ear, while you could keep talking almost soundlessly.  

“Should I recognize this? I’m not familiar.”

You bit back a bitter smile, stepping in front of the display together at last. The item itself looked unassuming; a stabile built of plates of metal, interwoven and reaching out of the tangle like tentacles. Except the surface of the plates wasn’t smooth; an intricate pattern of lines and circles rose slightly above it, a geometrical masterpiece only a few people on Earth knew the meaning of. Outside of Earth, well; you wouldn’t dare to guess.

The good news, hopefully, was that the sculpture meant to be in one piece was broken into two; that meant that if the effect was, like with many others you had encountered, tied to breaking the casing of whatever weapon it could be hiding, it had been out for a while and thus might not pose danger anymore. But you weren’t willing to take that chance.

“I’m not sure,” you whispered, almost choking out the words, wary of one word in particular as not to alarm anyone in vicinity just in case. “It is mostly Coulson’s team that handles all the… Kree mess.”

Short silence followed, only for Steve to draw in a shaky breath.

“…are you positive?”

It probably wasn’t meant to be a challenge, but you took it as one anyway, a flare of anger rushing through your veins, because was he serious? That was genuinely insulting. You spent practically your whole post-academy service to SHIELD with Coulson’s team following the trail of artifacts left behind by the lovely alien race Kree were – in fact, artifacts uncomfortably resembling this one. So yes, you were pretty bloody positiveyou were right.

You turned to Steve and took a step back to throw to his face – in as calm manner as was socially acceptable despite wanting to just spit it out – that you were pretty damn certain, because one did simply not forget a single thing about the literally blue aliens that indirectly gave them powers. Except you never got to make a single sound, because Steve’s eyes widened all of sudden, gaze still fixed on the display you had just turned your back to and his fingers closed around your wrist and tugged you closer to him again with surprising force given how gentle he had held you when you-- so not the time.

“Alright, point proven,” he whispered hastily, stepping back and releasing you before you could question him just turning from a gentleman of the year to a lout who just… grabbed a woman and manhandled her.

Frowning, you glanced over your shoulder just in time to see a faint light of the symbols dying out, your panic skyrocketing and making you forget all about your exasperation.

Oh. Oh, that was not good at all.

It recognized you. It sensed the Inhuman in you as you had unwittingly moved closer to it. It was reacting even sooner than the Diviner had, the first Kree artifact your team had encountered, whose symbols only lit up upon being touched by an Inhuman, or a person carrying Inhuman markers in their DNA yet to be turned into one.

“Sorry for-“

“It’s fine,” you interrupted his apology, appreciating it nevertheless. Yet, your smile probably turned out to be more of a grimace, bitter sarcasm bleeding into your tone. “Well, Tony said we should bid on something anyway, right? I’ve got my pick”.

Steve’s eyebrow twitched without a hint of amusement, but he didn’t disprove you, moving to scan the room for any vendor to start bidding indeed; you automatically reached for your black-tie-attire-friendly StarkWatch, to alert the HQ.

You never got to finish the message.

Steve never got to even step out.

A tell-tale metallic sound, a clink of a grenade hitting the tiled floor had both of you snap your head to the source, losing two precious seconds by looking for where exactly it landed, startled intakes of breath taken before a scream could gather in your lungs to warn people to get down.

There was no time to react. The screams aligned with the eardrum-rupturing noise of an explosion, a blur of a movement to your right and a force to be reckon with slamming into you.

Even without his signature weapon, Steve automatically threw himself between you and the grenade, pushing you down and shielding you with his body at least. The heat licked at your skin just as the pressure wave slammed into you both, sending you flying and crashing hard into the glass cabinet, Steve’s arm taking large portion of the brunt of impact.

A jolt of electricity rushed through your nerves along with the pain, a dull crack in your head, the edges of your vision blurring. You barely registered the stream of agents in black gear cutting through the clouds of smoke and vapour tear gas. Smell of copper and iron hit your nostrils, strong enough to make you nauseous; blood and fire. Steve’s cologne; then more blood. Lights and shadows bleeding into one, the former too bright for your smoke-filled teary eyes. The noise was deafening too – shouts and shrieks of terror you knew you should respond to, because it was your duty as an agent and as a half-baked Avenger.

But you didn’t seem to control your body for long enough to as much as lift your hand to check if the sharp pain in the back of your head was an open wound or not, let alone to climb to your feet as Steve’s voice echoed in your ears, warm hands firm on your waist, prickling sensations like thousand needles piercing through your skin all over.

The pain tore through every single cell of your body without warning, but you didn’t have time to find the cause or wallow in it; darkness enveloped you completely and you sank into its thick waters without a chance to fight it, until it swallowed you whole.

Next chapter

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

Hope you don’t mind a little cliffhanger, hehe... as a treat for reading! I wanna say I was really excited about this chapter, sneaking in something soft and fluffy in between the angst, but I’m excited to share everything so... yeah.

I would like to take a moment or two to thank you, again, for your comments. They give me a rush of joy and I read every single one of them more than once; they give me strength to continue even when sudden feeling of ‘this is meh’ attacks me and the thoughts you share ground me back in the story when I feel like I’m slipping away from where I wanted to take it. I cherish your feedback, no matter the form, so much. Thank you 💕

[hoarding-stories]

Absolutely love the moral quandries and character moments this ep, we're really getting a showcase on how all three of the party sees things.

Cuz like we as the audience have an expectation of heroism for the party! We're presented with something that is morally not-great and the knee-jerk reaction (for me at least) is wanting the trio to fix it. But that's where things get complicated because every one of them has a different block or reason keeping them from it

Suvi is of the Citadel, going against an endeavor to help the war she's been taught about and seen the impacts of her whole life doesn't come naturally. Does she like it? Probably not! But like she said in the episode, it's a bit bigger than them & really if these powerful beings can't get themselves out of their problems that's their fault, justification is her weapon of choice. Suvi and her friends have their objective and that is more important.

Ame's issue has to do with support. She wants to help, wants to see Naram set free and Orima pacified for the good of the town and nature but. She is one person. One person who wants to do it all. Pacify Suvi, support Eursulon, get wavebreaker, dispel the curse, do this monumental task, all in one sweep. Probably feels like if she turns to take care of one thing the others will drop to the floor and shatter. Ame has been taught to protect the natural order but it is all so big, and she is definitely not used to standing by. But taking this big of an action is just as daunting.

Eursulon is wholly based in pain. He said it himself, this is problem, as awful as it is, is not worth endangering the first happiness he's had during his journey in years. It's a selfishness but an understandable one. He has only just gotten his friends back. It'd be a terrible blow to lose it all again.

(And I am terribly glad for the Fox, sometimes a shit stirrer is needed to incite change)

[painted-bees]

Thinking a little more on the whole "when did Margie and Raf realize they were In A Relationship?" question, and while they'd both struggle to find a definitive moment, I think there was one particular situation that arose to kinda...lock things in for them.

Sometime prior to autumn 2009, Margie was headhunted by Bioware[Edmonton] thanks to the recommendation of an old Orbital Media colleague who was trying to establish/salvage Bioware's beleaguered handheld dev team. Following a promising phone interview, she was asked to make a 30 second demo track as part of the hiring process, and met expectations well enough that she was offered a job as an in-house musician and sound designer. Which also meant that she'd have to move to Edmonton. She had been keeping Raf up to date with this whole thing, mostly because she was too excited to keep it to herself. Raf was hugely supportive and excited -for- her. 'Cus like...he plays games. He even plays Bioware games, so, yanno...very cool. But he had also assumed this was gonna be more of a freelance contract kind of thing. And so, hearing her mention that the company would cover the costs of relocating her to Edmonton comes as a weird surprise. And suddenly, he's having a real hard time being excited for her. He keeps it to himself, 'cus he'd be an asshole not to. He's been really adamant with himself, and with anyone who asks, that he and Margie are just really good, comfortable friends/roommates. But even by this point, he's kinda known and been unwilling to admit to himself that the only reason he hasn't openly recognized their relationship for what it actually is--is because the non-committal ambiguousness provides him a clean way out if he starts feeling cagey/uncomfy about anything. It was an exit door that he liked keeping open incase he needed it. But Margie had seen it differently. To her, it was a door she figured she was gonna have to leave through eventually. Because Raf would inevitably find a more serious partner to settle down with, or he'd be whisked off by some other important venture that she couldn't be a part of. She figured he was leaving that door open because his current situation was a temporary transitional stage in his life that he simply allowed her to be a part of. And so, she's not really torn-up about the prospect of leaving, especially under the circumstances. It presented an easier, more exciting transition than she might have had to face if Raf had 'outgrown' her first.

So, Margie's excited about the new job offer, and Raf's sitting there feeling like he played himself--while being wholly unable/unwilling to tell her "Hey, uh...this sucks, actually, I really don't want you to go." Because that'd require him to admit that he's been lying to himself--which sucks. But more than that, it'd require him to admit that he's been lying to her--only employing honesty as a tool of convenience to dissuade her from going and getting something really good for herself. He can't, he won't. The sudden off-key in his tone, though, doesn't go unnoticed by her, and Margie is perfectly candid about the whole "we'll visit each other, I'll stay in touch--I'm not gonna disappear on you lmao" Except that's not really...how Raf operates. Distance + time does not make this man's paranoid lil' heart grow fonder. There's never been a relationship-friend, family, or otherwise-with enough staying power for Raf to maintain it once they're no longer within physical proximity. Even if he wants to 'keep in touch', it quickly falls off. He's just known...too many people, and been too many places...his brain doesn't have the bandwidth to maintain close relationships when there's a distance. And, after a long enough pause in communication, his paranoid anxieties lift the barrier of entry higher and higher until it's almost insurmountable. People become strangers again. Always. In the end, Bioware did not get to develop any more handheld titles, and the handheld division in Edmonton is dissolved before Margie was even offered a job start date to plan her big move around. And so the whole thing falls apart before it even had the chance to get started lmao. At which point, Raf finally allows himself to be honest and say "thank god, I was fuckin' dreading an empty apartment again." Treats her to a consolatory dinner, and gets to tell her as much as he is able to figure out for himself--that he doesn't really know what he wants, actually--but that things aren't as casual and clean-cut as he thought it was. He still can't bring himself to be like "yes, romantic committed relationship, that's us, that's what we are" but he does at least take measures to establish that he'd really like to take off his shoes, place them on the rack next to hers, and close the door behind him.

[femboyhorror]

🌲 pines family headcanons ✨ click the read more for more in-depth headcanon stuff!

this started out as a little silly edit of ford, then i decided to do one for stan as well and once that happened i knew i had to do edits for the pines twins as well. i might end up doing others like soos, wendy and pacifica but for now we have the main four pines.

🌲 dipper has glasses but prefers not to wear them. he thinks they look nerdy but wears them more often with the support of mabel and his grunkles. 🌲 bisexual disaster. 🌲 dipper will always be a transboy in my head. struggled with gaining acceptance from his parents but knows he always has a place where he can be himself in gravity falls. 🌲 CW SELF HARM IMPLIED: his dysphoria and dissociation from his body ends up worse for a while after sock opera. for a while turns to… not so great methods to remind himself that his body is his own. 🌲 became clingy after weirdmageddon, either clinging to his sister and grunkles before going back to piedmont or just staying by mabel's side often after. 🌲 probably has pierced ears but would wear very subtle earrings, to mabel's displeasure.

🌠 big decora kei vibes. so many stickers and hair pins. she also will often wear mismatched socks! 🌠 is the one to suggest she and dipper get a matching hair streak. blue was the only color dipper would agree to. 🌠 mabel gives me big pansexual vibes. starts to discover her own identity around the time dipper does, and ends up dating candy and/or grenda for a hot minute. 🌠 wholly supported dipper when he came out as a transboy and was his biggest ally growing up. 🌠 after weirdmageddon she asks ford for drawing lessons. the two bond over arts and crafts. 🌠 CW MILD ED suffers from a sort of survivor's guilt after weirdmageddon, guilt over being tricked by bill and almost staying in mabeland manifesting mostly in the form of being a people pleaser, forgetting to eat and sleep. the other pines thankfully notice this and put a stop to it.

🎣 i love long haired stan. i like to imagine after the series the guy feels comfortable enough to grow his hair out again. 🎣 stretched earlobes! 🎣 is a transman and also gnc as hell. he also is insanely good at using makeup. (dipper and ford don't really use makeup and mabel just likes to be Silly with makeup.) 🎣 (tbh i can also imagine stanley as being transfeminine as well, they're just That Gender.) 🎣 as soon as mabel saw his "glorious mane" she was practically begging him to let her braid it. he pretends to just go along with it for her sake but he secretly loves having her do his hair. 🎣 the adhd to ford's autism. he definitely suffers hard from rejection sensitive dysphoria and tends to panic if it seems like someone is upset with him. (i.e. ford confronting him over the broken machine, mabel upset with him for lying in the land before swine.)

✋ his sweater is a huge comfort for him. in general he likes heavier clothes to ground him. ✋ i like to imagine him with plenty of earrings and tattoos. earrings mainly themed around space and stars and ends up getting some tattos on his wrists to cover the burn scars from weirdmageddon. ✋ a touch of the tism. has a hard time distinguishing tone. (i.e. not being able to tell if wendy was complimenting him ironically or not.) ✋ while he doesn't mind if people see him as a man, he himself doesn't feel all that attached to the idea of being male. fine with any pronouns but probably likes to use neopronouns. (maybe star/starself?) ✋ achillean, mainly attracted to enbies and men. tried to date a few girls growing up to try and be "normal" (comphet's a binch) but at around high school enough bad experiences made him avoid dating for a while. ✋ he loves loves loves space and astronomy! it's sort of his hyperfixation. used to name constellations with stanley while spending nights on the stan o war and they bond over this on the stan o war ii!

[fatuismooches]

I'm in love with the "Traveler finding fragile reader" scenario I've seen floating around your blog because this scenario is super interesting for Dottore specifically. Actually caring about someone else, perhaps even more than he does himself and his ambitions, not having the upper hand, and being almost wholly at someone else's mercy in a meaningful way are all probably very foreign things to Dottore. Since I suck at writing proper stories, here are some scattered thoughts.

After all the times they've encountered and clashed with the Second Fatui Harbinger, the Traveler had subconsciously realized that they would have to be just as ruthless, just as cruel as he is to neutralize him. They'd truly come to terms with this after learning about your existence, and muster the will to act upon this knowledge as the doors to the location you were being hidden in slammed open. Paimon's gaze snapped to the source of the sound, and in that split second the Traveler summoned their blade and held its edge against your throat. (As an aside, imo the Traveler would totally do something like this if they had to. We saw how they were willing to coldly execute you-know-who in the Aranyaka quest.)

As he burst through the doors, Dottore was greeted with the sight of the accursed Traveler's determination-filled glare, their white floating imp's wide-eyed stare… and the lab's dim lights gleaming off the blade held over your throat. Their surprisingly calm voice grates against his ears. "Paimon, keep your eyes on Dottore. There's no telling what he might try."

The only other time Dottore had ever felt this alarmed in his centuries of existence was when you just didn't wake up one day, reduced to barely clinging to life with the support of his modified Akasha terminal. This was a new first for Dottore - the first time he lost his rationality. Objectively, this was a favourable scenario - he knew the terrain here like the back of his hand, which would be a major advantage against an opponent as powerful as the Traveler. With this, he had a decent chance of permanently removing possibly the biggest obstacle to the Fatui.

The above should have been what went through Dottore's brilliant mind, devising scenarios to bring it to fruition. Instead, every cell in Zandik's brain was working in overdrive, trying to find a way to somehow get the Traveler away from you, to keep you safe. He knows the kind of person the Traveler is - if it were anyone else, he'd have no problem calling their bluff and striking at the slightest hesitation, but this was you, the only life he couldn't afford to gamble with.

(How the actual confrontation goes down is anyone's guess, since I don't have any concrete ideas. A proper fight is likely out of the question because a clash between two of the strongest beings in Teyvat is going to be incredibly destructive - you're almost definitely getting caught in the crossfire somehow, and Zandik can't have that.)

oh MY GOSHHHHH I AM LITERALLY DEVOURING EATING THIS UPPP

Anon. Im. I have no words. Your writing IS SUPERBBB. ITS AMAZING. All those things you said are so true. Even to this day sometimes Dottore is surprised he cares about you this much. He would have never thought he had the capacity for that previously. He always thought he had the situation and his emotions always under control, yet his love for you still blossomed. That was the one time he felt as though he could not predict something. The Doctor was known for his meticulous plans and actions, with no room for counterattacks or opposition. He was used to the cowered figures, terrified expressions of the people beneath him.

Until now. 

Dottore doesn’t have much regrets in his life. He doesn’t regret his countless experiments or people he hurt. That didn’t really matter to him. But right now, he was thinking that he should have killed the Traveler when he had the chance. Then you wouldn’t be stuck in this situation, the Traveler’s blade held dangerously close to your throat, hanging you on the thin line between life and death. (Traveler’s dull blade never seems to disappoint ig…)

The sight has him slowly losing his normal composed, rational train of thought. The tone the Traveler takes with him only worsens his thoughts, and he can’t help but think back to the time when he nearly lost you. From then he swore to never put you in more harm than you already were. But it seems like that was a broken oath now.

Scholars must plan for every possible situation and take everything into account. And now, he has to consider the possibility you may… 

There are innumerable amounts of plans and actions unfolding in his head, but each of them leaves you at risk, the one thing he has to avoid at all costs. He simply cannot risk your life. You still have a life ahead of you, the one that you deserve, one when he finally cures you. And he shall not let this Traveler stop him, no matter what he has to do.

Even as this goes on, the Traveler still can’t help but be fascinated by the fact they have the Doctor in a chokehold, not by sheer power, blackmail, knowledge, or anything along those lines. But rather from a person who didn’t seem to be anything special. If the situation was different, they would have liked to see the kind of person you were to be able to change the normally ruthless, unfaltering Doctor into a hesitant one.

I enjoyed this tremendously infinity/10, I loved how u described Paimon as an imp 😭 Traveler better watch themselves after that because when he gets you to safety, he ain’t holding back 🚶‍♀️LIKE I WISH I HAD MORE TO ADD BUT THIS IS PERFECT. I can only imagine maybe the Omega clone stepping in somehow, or a very tense verbal confrontation between the two of them where he has to give up some secrets in exchange for you. Or a crash/explosion from somewhere else distracting the Traveler enough to be able for Dottore to retrieve you.

[eyeballsoup7310]

Finally got to the end of sh2 and man. I really like that ending cuz not only does it expand Mary, who desperately needed more depth beyond “loving wife who’s dead now” (her flatness early on, I think, was also very intentional as I imagine that’s how James was trying to remember her), but it also retroactively makes James way more interesting to me, too.

By giving Mary these complicated feelings about her illness, she’s no longer Just A Nice Dead Wife, which is annoying trope in of itself, she’s a woman who feels like she’s been torn apart between dealing with an illness she knows won’t go away and being with the man who used to love her. In her final letter she says that she’s scared to go home to James because she knows he’s fallen out of love with her over this, he rarely visits her anymore and when he does he clearly hates it. Hates her. She doesn’t seem to have any other support system, the only people she knows are a small girl in the same hospital and the nurses and doctors. She probably felt broken and alone. And while there’s no way for a human to be broken, she was definitely alone.

And by having James internalize these frustrations, he then has all the thoughts simultaneously running through his head that “I’m not taking care of her as good as a husband as I should be” and “I hate her for this she says she hates being like this” and “I’ll be she’ll be better off for it”. There’s layers to it other than just “aaaaauuhhh I wanna fuck other women :((((“ like yeah, that theme is definitely there, there’s a reason why every enemy Looks Like That, but I personally prefer characters who have multiple reasons—bad as they may be—for doing things. Even the version of Mary that only exists in his memory tries to give him an out, she hated being sick, it’s okay, James, he still has to make the active decision to put that false memory to rest and tell her he did it for wholly selfish reasons.

Mary’s characterization is constantly at war with the real version of her, sick and resentful and scared and full of self hatred, and James’ memories of her, watered down to sick and sweet and forgiving— you only want to remember the ‘good’ parts of people you’ve lost, and if only remembering their best means forgetting why you grew to hate them, then that’s a bonus, right, James?

Mary was expanded from just a motivation for James to being her own person, fucked up and struggling, while simultaneously still being viewed as just a motivation for me in James’ own head, until he actually tries to make efforts to shut down the part of himself that thinks of her this way. I’m speaking in circles now but you get the point I think these are both really interesting characters

[cringefaecompilation]

Now we know the Wildmother definitely saw Orym use hex, do you think she cares? The warm wind did nothing, but it seemed positive?

I guess I'm wondering if the gods are getting less picky about where their help comes from (e.g. a soldier indebted to a fae hag, or a hollow one) if it helps them not get eaten?

mmm, that's kinda tricky.

the way that aabria played the wildmother made it seem like she wanted to ensure that opal and fy'ra at most made it out in one piece, but otherwise didn't care too much if the rest of the crownkeepers were alright. the gods have their favorites and usually tend to be picky though even now, pelor outright told deanna she needed to sit down and shut up when she questioned him. we can't forget how the primes brushed off cassida when she refused to step down fully from her desire to take out the betrayers, even though she was deeply and unerringly religious in a place that'd get her killed for it. but, y'know, maybe! i'm not sure how melora has soften over the times and who knows if she might be more or less willing to bend if her life is at stake.

but also, here's the thing. when i was watching the episode i did NOT pick up on the warm breeze being the wildmother and thought it was supposed to be the warmth of the room returning as the specter of delilah faded away. and maybe that's on purpose! maybe she wasn't there at all and orym just assumed it was her to try and keep everyone on the pro-gods train!

i'm still of the opinion that orym is not actually pro-gods himself, they're just a very convenient excuse and foothold he has to his "everything ludinus does or wants us to think about is bad and we cannot ever hand anything to him ever" opinion because if ludinus hates the gods, then he must love the gods wholly and make excuses for everything they do, even if they don't actually do anything for him asides hand him positive reinforcement occasionally when he Does A Good and a dope-ass sword.

to a more personal headcanony level: i think the only reason he's so gung-ho about them supporting gods is because he projects his dead family onto them: if someone wants the gods gone or dead, then clearly they're saying his family deserved death. why else keep bringing them up so defensively whenever someone talks about redistributing power from the gods?

[geminiperson]

Spiderman Talk: Jameson is right, and Peter deserves better

So I was listening to a text post on tiktok that I love about how Jameson is in fact a great person and really only has beef with Spiderman because of personal problems, and first off, that's blatantly wrong, which the post corrects, but it got me thinking about something interesting. I would love to see a Spiderman story called Spiderman for the Daily Bugle, in which Jameson has gone to therapy to address his well of trauma related to the death of his wife (for those who aren't aware, she is canonically killed by a masked assailant) so that he can finally get past his initial trauma response when he sees Spiderman in his mask (that absolutely looks like a balaclava worn by a robber) and makes a non-public spectacle offer to meet with Spiderman so he can actually talk with him to express his legitimate problems with him (this would technically be the first time they have done this, since the previous occurrence has been retconned to memory). When Peter shows up in costume, Jameson sits him down, and rather than yelling, being angry, and bashing on him, he approaches him as a journalist and asks him a series of questions that are designed to get serious responses out of him. Questions like "Why do you wear a full body suit that hides your full identity?" Which Peter obviously responds to with "To protect my loved ones from harm." Jameson acknowledges that this is a legitimate concern, but also points out that even showing part of his face would allow him to be more of a symbol just based on the reality that he is clearly a white man in America, and therefore should be using his privilege and notoriety to support larger causes (not so small reminder that JJ is a very liberal person who supports workers rights, is pro-mutant/enhanced, and was not only writing about the civil rights movements, but was actively a part of it, ala he definitely marched with Dr. King on Washington as a cub reporter) . These kinds of questions continue, where Jameson asks things, Peter responds honestly, and Jameson acknowledges his concerns, but also points out the real problems that Peter causes by using his current methods (again, I can't stress enough that Jameson has legitimate problems that should be understood). The key takeaways for Peter are:

Hiding his identity from his family and friends has legitimate detriment to his mental health and relationships, and he should tell the people he cares most about so that they can finally understand who he is wholly and support him.

Hiding his identity from the public should not separate him from accountability to his actions during his fights against supervillains, and he should create a means to help people who have been harmed by his own actions both intentional and unintentional.

It is not his job alone to respond to crime, or to shoulder the burden of being the "Hero of New York" and he should not need to sacrifice his own happiness and well being in order to uphold his belief. This includes a moment where Jameson points out that "With Great Power comes Great Responsibility, both to others as well as oneself."

Peter has talents outside of being Spiderman that he should absolutely be using for the betterment of others, which does not solely include his capabilities as a scientist or engineer. Jameson points out that a large part of the problems that cause crime have direct and indirect causes, and that Spiderman, as a private citizen who is empowered, has a greater capability than most to address not only the crimes that regular people can't engage with, but also the crimes that could be solved by doing proper leg work and investigation.

This culminates in the big reveal to Jameson that Peter is Spiderman. Peter breaks down over the interview, because this hits him in a spot that hurts him the most, his hero complex, and he begs Jameson not to hate him, to which Jameson, now realizing who he's been going after this whole time, acknowledges that while he was definitely mad at Peter, he could never hate him, because he knows, especially now that he sees who he really is, that Peter is an amazing man. Hugs and heartfelt words are exchanged.

Now by comparison to the original version that occurred, this would be the point where the story ends, BUT I SAY NAY! THERE IS SUCH A MISSED CHANCE THAT SHOULD BE TAKEN! Cut to a few months later, and Peter is thwipping through downtown, when he hears a loud commotion, and swings over to investigate. The Rhino is smashing his way into a bank vault while a few thugs with guns stand lookout. Peter pops in, quickly takes down the thugs, and then squares up to Rhino and shouts "Hey Rhino, Spiderman for the Bugle. I'm here to get your comment. What got you back into the game of robbing banks?" They go through what looks like the usual dance of Peter dodging and quipping to all of Aleksi's attacks, until Peter backs off and says "Hey Aleksi, do you know what the best part of having a full time job is?" Aleksi grunts his usual response and Peter gives him a thumbs up, where you can see a flashing button on the side of his index finger, which he presses as he says "Gadget money." and triggers the series of web mines he planted around Aleksi while he was dodging his attacks. As Peter swings away, he calls in to advise Damage Control about the damage to the building and SHIELD to pick up the Rhino and check on bystanders.

This would be the start of a story in which you get to see what a healthy, happy, and more fulfilled version of Spiderman looks like. No more of this malnourished permanently tardy half formed Peter, but one in which his family knows about his hero identity, he has a full time job as a journalist working the crime beat as Spiderman, and also writes additional articles as the science and technology editor for the Bugle, and has the full support of Jameson and the Bugle backing him as a hero. He still has to face the struggles of being Spiderman and Peter, including the challenges of being a parent, but now part of that balance comes from finding time to organize PTA meetings with MJ for Mayday. Aunt May knows that Peter is Spidey, and is incredibly proud of him, especially now that he's learning balance, something that she hoped for him. His relationship with characters like Daredevil and The Avengers is one that includes more professional courtesy and even sharing the burden of caring for New York, rather than just trying to uphold everything on his own. Peter does convince Jameson to keep his original costume, including the full face mask, but that is solely because of branding, and now he can actively use his persona as Spiderman in more than just a limited capacity, because "Shockingly" people would love to support their local hero, and spidey merch sells like crazy thanks to the Spiderman Store on the main floor of the Bugle. Peter has a secret headquarters that is based out of his co-op in Queens, which allows him to be an active parent for his kids while also living up to his role as a hero.

For those of you who feel like this sounds to "Mary Sue" I'd also like to point out that a) Peter still has logistical challenges that present legitimate dangers as a public hero in needing to protect his identity for the safety of others, and while that has been challenged by being a public hero, you can see how he responds to those dangers, and b) this gives us a chance to see Peter working at solving crimes and working within society rather than as an outside force, which makes him a better hero.

Lastly, consider the stories you could write with people like Matt Murdock, not just as Daredevil, but as the official legal rep of Spiderman. Matt gets to be put on retainer by a major corporation (Bugle Media is a pretty major leader in the news industry) and you can also have that paralleled with a Daredevil/Spiderman story in which you get to see what a hero who operated like old Spidey vs New Spidey looks like, and how those challenges differ. Also, B roll type stories with Deadpool coming after Peter for exposing a story about a major tech conglomerate, and Wade finds out Peters identity, which changes their dynamic entirely. Similar stories about how Spidey and Punisher clash, and Peter, after having gone through the challenges of being a legitimate hero finally responds to Punishers tired line of being tough on crime by pointing out that he's not actually solving crime, simply attacking one of the symptoms, and is then able to start writing stories about Frank that helps humanize him not as the deranged serial killer that most people see him as, but as a misguided mentally ill man trying to right the wrongs he perceives in the world.

What I'm trying to get at is this. Peter Parker is pretty constantly miserable, and in my opinion, a lot of the people that write him, create positive things in his life so that they can rip those things away later on down their story line to compel him to act, and I really don't think that's all that interesting personally. As a fan of Spiderman stories, there is not a lot of hope that Peter can be happy, because whenever he does get something positive, it's either retconned or ripped from his hands in a horrific and terrible way for what I would call unbelievably unnecessary character development that isn't actually developing his character. There's a somewhat popular fan comic of Spidey meeting The Joker, and after Peter talks with Joker for a while about half of the shit that has happened in his life, Joker basically has a crisis of belief in his own ideology of "One bad day is all it takes" because Peter has gone through so much and still chooses the righteous path. Letting Peter be happy for once in his life would probably generate revenue just on long term fans speculating when and how things are going to go downhill. Changing the makeup of his base character, especially this far into the game when he has existed as a hero for so long would create way better stories, because in all seriousness, giving Peter more happiness also means there is so much more to protect/lose, and losing part of that would absolutely still hit hard. I've only really scratched the surface of ideas that I, a lone writer, has about what could be done with a change like this.

There are so many ways in which you could use his character, and present him challenges that actually provide character development, instead of hate fucking the corpse of his stories with a bloody knife. Peter doesn't need a reason to act that involves taking that small amount of happiness in his life and ripping it away because his core belief is that he has a responsibility to act because he has the power to do so, and in my opinion, forcing him to go through unimaginable sorrow does not showcase that character trait at all. If you're taking something from your hero when their primary motivation is supposed to be their inherent belief that they as someone with power has the responsibility to act in the benefit of those without, then you're taking away their primary motivation and replacing it with a selfish motivation. It's not to say that Peter shouldn't lose things, but he should lose those things based on his own decisions, not just because the predisposed outcome of his life should be inherently negative.

This post ended up being way longer than I had initially intended, but I want to end with this. There are some truly great characters that I personally think could be better written given the opportunity. I don't even necessarily think the stories that we have of Spiderman are actually all that bad (Except for One More Day. Fuck that story specifically and the horse it rode in on, it's fucking terrible) and that history shouldn't be ignored. But I think if we as fans and creators come together, there are opportunities for us to change things for the better. There are chances for us to show what a good and happy ending can look like for Peter, and maybe, just maybe, he can keep that small bit of happiness that he's got going for him.