#(the girls in question being women above the age of 30)

[rochenn]

Eye Level, pt. I

Getting into the comic groove by making Dooku (loneliest most pathetic man in the galaxy) develop a Thing for his tailor. Part two in progress!

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

[diminuel]

Thoughts on Crocodile formerly being one of Whitebeard's children (either biological or adopted). I know the current rule is no women other than nurses, but it doesn't look like that was always the rule. We know of two women who were non-nurse Whitebeards in the past (Whitey Bay and Kouzuki Toki) so that wasn't always the rule. What if that rule was put into place because of what happened with Crocodile?

Then there's the question of what happened with Crocodile. We know that the one unforgivable offense is attacking (killing) a brother, but what if Crocodile had done so in legitimate self defense? Does Whitebeard do any vetting of those he names his sons?

Ah, you know I didn't realize that Whitey Bay was a member of the WB pirates, I just thought she was a captain that followed him as all Emperors seem to have.

Just for personal reasons I would say that if Crocodile was one of WB's kids then he would have been kicked off the ship at a very young age (before the Oden joined, before Blackbeard joined) because I feel the complete lack of reaction the WB pirates have to Crocodile makes it feel that there's absolutely no story there. Which might of course not be true.

But I don't know why he would have been kicked off the ship if being a girl wasn't the problem. It might just have been that WB needs his kids to follow his orders, especially his own biological child, and Crocodile just wouldn't. He would always want to prove himself, fight fights that were way above his league, potentially endangering people who would have to come save him. Maybe even getting someone killed this way? The "carelessness" and "selfishness" Crocodile exhibited along with his constantly questioning WB's orders might be enough for WB to leave him behind. As a Captain he has to make choices for the well being of his entire crew.

And maybe WB wrongly assumes that the reason Crocodile was like this is because he was a girl, trying to prove herself in a crew of men (and maybe there's some truth in that). Whitey Bay seems to have already been an adult 30 odd years ago (how old is this woman...?) who had already proven her worth and could fend off patronizing comments with a sharp tongue and weapon of choice. But Crocodile was a child/ teen and couldn't.

(It is rather telling that one of the first things Crocodile did when he became a Warlord was go after WB. Like a "see how poweful I am now" move. And of course the impulsiveness and misjudgment of his powers cost him dearly. Maybe he partially also expected that WB's sentimentality over seeing what his child had achieved could still lead to a defeat but at least an acknowledgment of his strength instead of the soul crushing potential near death experience it was. WB had no mercy. Maybe WB didn't even know who he was and Crocodile's pride would not let him ask "why don't you recognize your own child? did you even look at me before you destroyed me?")

[theyjustadmitthathuh]

I'm a former radfem who went soft a decade ago, but the Pelicot and Abbé Pierre cases reignited my revolt.

I'm now married and have an almost 3-year old son. My husband is above average in terms of morals and decency. Do you have any advice to raise him into an ally for women?

You can’t.

You can do your best to instill good attributes in him and teach him right from wrong. You can reinforce the idea that you’re a person and so are all other women, but at the end of the day, he has much more incentive to be misogynistic than to be an ally for women.

And that incentive comes from every direction except you. It comes from tv and teachers and friends and bullies and music and billboards and games and story books and everything else. Possibly even his own father when you’re not around. You would have to keep him locked in a closet to keep him from absorbing the knowledge that he has the option to use sexism to get ahead in life.

This goes for having girls too btw. You can try your best to raise her feminist and to be safe etc and she may come around in her 20s or 30s but chances are she’ll be raped and abused by the time she understands what you were saying. It’s a tough world.

The only thing you can really do is let him know that your love is unconditional but your support is not. Cut off males in your life who rape or abuse without a second question. Call out sexism in front of him without pulling your punches. Do not allow him to even unknowingly be misogynistic: you must enforce that you have a sexism free household whether he is there or not. And worst of all: be ready to follow through if he does rape someone. Be ready to kick him out or cut off communication. Basically you have to teach him that even though he’s your son, women still come first.

If that sounds harsh, then just imagine all the daughters who are taught in no uncertain terms that their fathers are their fathers, but other men and boys will always come first. You don’t even have to do it that harshly though, because males arent oppressed for being male.

I know he’s three right now, and hopefully his entitlement is lower than most 3 year old boys (most of them I see are already hitting people for not getting their way and telling the female children to serve them, but I am in a shitty town. The parents claim this is behavior learned at daycare but oddly enough the girls arent doing it) but you have to be prepared for when he’s older. Pick some good theory books out and pick some ages they would be appropriate. If you’re always reading together it can even be bonding time.

I don’t have kids. I am against the concept of having kids like someone would be against the concept of eating meat. It cannot be done without harm. Every child is traumatized one way or another. You either have a boy or a girl, and both come with their own specific ways of causing harm and being harmed.

That said, mothers are all women and as such should be considered and catered to in feminist analysis. I have a lot friends who are mothers. Ive seen this shit happen first hand. Ive seen women trying desperately to raise a decent son and one weekend with his father or anything really and it looks like all their work slipped away, but really the boy just stopped hiding his sexism for a bit.

I really dont have much good advice. It’s a really tough world and you’re but 1 millionth of the influences your son has and will have through his life. But do your best and protect yourself first and foremost!! I wish you great luck in this endeavor!!!

And always remember, the best way to convince someone to do something is to do it yourself!

🥰💕❤️♥️💙💗🖤💜💛💖💞💚❣️💛💚

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Weekend everyone :) Whew we are almost halfway through s3 already it's crazy. I love how when we get little content the previous ep the next one has loads. This is Lucy’s first real foray into UC. Seeing that deeper Harper/Lucy bond. Tim’s freak out and protectiveness. Such a good one for so many reasons. So many more gifs I wanted to use but sadly Tumblr keeps me to 30. They need to up that ha Oh well let’s get this started.

3x06 Revelations

Our ep starts out with Tamara and Lucy. Lucy making sure she gets at least one good dinner for the week. I just love their relationship so much. Tamara was such a good addition to the show. Adding some extra depth for Lucy. She is an excellent pseudo mom to her. Tamara asks if she can interview Lucy for a paper for school. Has to do with women in male dominated fields.

Lucy is adorable in her reply saying she's honored she’s asking her. How far these two have come. Lucy says she should be off early tomorrow. Let's Tamara know she’s just doing site security with Tim. It’s for the CCOA. Basically a convention for UC cops. I did love her saying ‘My Sergeant’ when explaining her work plans tomorrow. Made me happy. Yes he is. In more ways than one. Heh

We first join our lovely duo running security checks at the entrance. Lucy asking if Tim does this every year? Tim tells her no but he went with Isabel once to this. Look our boy bringing up Isabel casually. Being the one to and not have it bring him down. I'm so proud of him. Doesn’t phase him like it used to. Not only that but he’s cracking jokes over here.

Saying he just worked on his tan while Isabel attended seminars haha Replying to her question about what they teach here with sass. Tim tells her he has no idea but he's clearly having fun with his reply. Lucy still isn’t used to his sassy side. Her reaction above says it all. You did this lady hehe Enjoy the fruits of your labor madam.

Their lighthearted moment is interrupted by an old friend of Tim’s. He drives up like a bat out of hell. Tim is excited to see him (at first...) Tim is in such a good mood when he rolls up. Just outside cracking jokes with his girl having a good time. Even introduces Lucy (by her first name BTW) to his friend proudly. Shortly after their reunion Tim realizes the girl in the car is not his wife….

She blatantly hits on him calling him pretty. I mean he is. Look at the man. I’ve said before he is sex on stick. Mack notes he only gets prettier with age. He's not wrong...it’s true. Loved Eric since his DOOL days. Was in love with him then as a teenager and even more so now ha So that is accurate. Aged like a fine ass wine. *chef kiss*

Tim pulls Mack aside and wants to talk. Lets him know if he wants to run around on his wife that's his business. But he looks high as a kite. I love the way Lucy watches the interaction. Already in protect Tim emotionally mode. Mack tells him it's just oxy. He got hurt on the job month ago and the pain is a bear.

He takes off before Tim can say more and the look of worry on Lucy's face only increases. She can tell Tim is shook up about seeing his old friend this way. It’s affecting him more than he would like. I think he must’ve been in the academy with Tim. To watch someone you used to be close fall from grace is never easy to watch. Especially when it's so closely related to what Isabel was like.

Lucy spies on Harper giving a lecture to potential female UC’s in the making. You can see her interest is piqued. Harper even spots her before she shuts the door. Cracks me up the way she jumps when Tim catches her. I always love me some arm crossed disapproving Tim. Mmm. gimme. His emotions are written all over his face. They honestly color his attitude for almost the entirety of this episode. He’s not upset she snuck a peak. He’s upset she’s interested in UC. The way he looks back that that sign says it all. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach has settled and its not going anywhere.

This next scene we start to see Tim’s demons about UC surface a little. That good mood of his is long gone. He immediately confronts her about it. Asking her if she was spying in on seminars? She can’t lie to save her life when he looks at her. She adorably replies maybe…She's so excited by the prospect of UC she isn’t picking up on the stress Tim is throwing down in this scene.

He chews her out a little for spying and why it was wrong. I think we all know this has zero to do with the spying. That it 100 percent has to do with the subject matter that’s peaked her interest. He is trying to cut this off at the pass. He is not remotely excited about her being interested in UC at all..

We return to our couple reporting to Mack’s room. His wife Beth is banging on the door. His mistress won’t let her in. Tim doesn't have time for this and kicks the door down. Oh my. He runs inside and sees Mack has OD’d. Lucy goes and gets the Narcan to revive him. Mack comes to and is begging his wife to stay. He is so very out of it. His wife storms off saying she can’t do this anymore. Ugh poor Tim. The look he shares with Lucy kills me. The pre-tears and all. The fact that he's upset and looks back at her for support. My heart. This was not how he envisioned spending this day. It was supposed to be an easy security site job that turned into so much more.

Tim rejoins Mack at the hospital. He is so very angry with him. His pre-tears are killing me in these scenes with Mack. Poor Tim this ep is bringing up a lot of demons for him. Ones he truly thought he was putting behind him. Not just UC ones either. Telling Mack he’s not making the same mistakes he did with Isabel. Tim has made major strides when it comes to her but those scars still linger. They’re not gone and probably never will be fully. I’m sure he still tortures himself about his inaction with her. He won't do that again. To Tim this is a way to make up for that. Atone for that sin.

Lucy is leaving for the day when she spots Harper waiting at her car. Now I said when Harper joined the show how excited I was. That her and Lucy’s relationship was one of those reasons. These are the moments that I love so much. Harper is straight with her and says 'You know we’re gonna have to talk about it right?' Clearly referring to her sneaking a peak.

Lucy thinks Harper is there to scold here just like Tim did. The beautiful thing about this scene is she doesn’t. Nyla encourages and supports her UC aspirations. This is where she becomes her UC mentee really. After Lucy explains why she peaked in Harper can’t help but want to help Lucy with this.

Can sense her genuine excitement about it. Even agrees to drinks to talk about it. Hell it’s her idea how far we’ve come ❤️ Lucy postpones her interview with Tamara to go out with Nyla. Harper then gets a distress call from one of her old UC contacts. Asks if Lucy wants to come instead of a rain check on drinks? She jumps on this offer immediately. Wanting to see first hand what an operation is like.

Harper sends Lucy into the bar solo while she spots the tail on her friend. Lucy looks so amped to prove herself. She finds June or ‘Coco’ as she’s known right now at the bar. Sato joins the table immediately after Lucy does. Obviously he is the tail June has been worried about. The balls on Lucy in this moment. If Tim could see her right now he would have a friggin heart attack. Lucy throws a damn drink in his face.

She covers her ass so well and pretends she’s the chemist. Really smart move on her end. Even though he buys Lucy’s story Sato and his guard make them both move outdoors. Harper is waiting in the wings like the BAMF she is. Takes out Sato’s guard easily. Harper tells Coco there’s a tracker on her car. They must be cops. Sato is now the one in trouble saying they’re not. Salonga his boss just wanted them surveilled.

Coco up's the price for pissing them off. He tells them if they do the price hike Lucy better be at the buy. Harper tries to shield Lucy. Telling them she doesn’t go on buys. Lucy jumps in and says she’ll go. That she's already spent her share in her head. Shocking both Harper and June. If Tim could see this he would be losing his damn mind. Well he will later on….

Crazy how good she is at this right away. Harper notices the immediate potential in her. They tell her she better bone up on chemistry. She beams like the nerd we all know and love. Says she got straight A’s in chemistry in high school. Of course you did haha Lucy gets so caught up in the moment she forgets she was supposed to do the report with Tamara. Oops.

Tim comes to Grey’s office about his report on Mack. Wade is asking him if he’s sure he wants to do it this way? Tim so desperate to right the wrong he did with Isabel he doesn’t hesitate. Says it’s the right thing to do. That it’s what he should’ve done with Isabel in first place. He warns him he'll lose his pension. Tim continues on says its right thing to do. Grey doesn’t disagree. Wade then tells him Lucy will be occupied with a UC op today. He is none too pleased about this and quickly heads to roll call room.

Tim acting like a mad worried husband from here on out. He is SEETHING above. That determined strut and crossing of his arms. His whole demeanor screaming his discontent. Anger ready to spill over onto Harper. So very worried because Lucy has volunteered for a UC op and a very dangerous one at that. He doesn’t hide his stress in the least. Lucy has become such a fixture in his life at this point. To potentially risk losing her to a UC op like he did Isabel…He can't handle the idea of it. The rest of this scene reflects that.

His demons coming out to play extra hard in this one for him. Lucy looks so excited when she's asked to stand up. She's so ready to prove herself. She is just excited in general. Then she turns around and sees Tim’s disapproving stance and stare. She freezes immediately and instantly feels reprimanded. Looks back at him one more time and sees his body language hasn't changed. Tim is emanating anger and Lucy knows it. Whew lord. He’s ready to eat Harper.

Before we move on let's take a moment to enjoy the forearm porn we’re getting here in the gif above. Hot damn. Arms are crossed, biceps bulging and his forearms look toned as hell. Sweet baby James should be a crime to be this attractive. But let’s get back to the episode before I gawk at him any further LMAO

The very SECOND the meeting is over Tim is all over Harper. Pushes off the wall and storms toward her. He is ready to tear her a new one about allowing this. Let’s remember this episode has been VERY rough on Tim to this point. It’s like he’s being forced down memory lane in the worst way possible. With maximum PTSD. He started the ep casual, having fun with Lucy. Even bringing up Isabel at a UC convention without it bothering him. Then Mack showed up and dominoes started to fall and haven't stopped. This scene is his boiling point with good reason.

From Mack who’s his friend forcing him to relieve his trauma with Isabel. Having to make an ethical call about his career due to him becoming an addict. To Lucy going undercover which he feels she was roped into. She wasn’t but he’s not exactly thinking straight right now. It's what happens when our emotions drown us. The logical part of our brain disconnects and all that’s left is intense suffocating emotion. Lashing out trying to get some semblance of control.

We also need to remember the last time he was involved in a UC op Isabel was shot in the head. Almost died. His PTSD is crying out in his scene. Harper tries to calm Tim down by saying she volunteered, Grey approved it and she has the best backup she could possibly have. The thing is though no matter of logic is going to penetrate his panic right now. Tim telling Harper she’s using Lucy and he’s losing his mind over it. He felt Isabel was used in her OP and now those feelings are bleeding over into Lucy’s. He is showing all his cards emotionally in this scene. The sheer terror he feels over Lucy going under cover. He doesn't want to lose her to same thing.

I love the writers for tapping back into these issues of his. They don’t just go away. They tend to linger on for a long time. They’ve left deep scars on him. This shows how raw this nerve still is for Tim. Now to top his day off they’re throwing his person into the one thing he fears the most. Lucy has become the one constant in his life. This incredibly resilient sunshine person that has become so important to him. He can’t stand the thought of being hurt or worse. His fears from 2x19 echoing in this scene. About not being about to protect her. To losing her and him having no say in the result.

I don’t think Tim even understands why he’s reacting this way. Most of their relationship he is like this. Acts without understanding the why behind it. Only that it is a driving force for him. It's not until 4x22 he starts to understand why he acts the way he does with her. He only knows right now it’s instinctual and he can’t stop himself from letting it out.

Lucy looks absolutely crushed by the time he says his line about her being used. The look they share before before he walks away. It's crushing to say the least. We all know how badly she wants to impress him. For him to be proud of her and what she’s accomplished to even be in this OP. Tim has always had her back. Supported her and truly seen her as a person. Had unrelenting faith in her this entire time. To not have that in this moment is rocking her entire world.

I adore Nyla for how she helps Lucy after Tim hastily departs. She’s the best mentor Lucy could have. I love these moments between them. The way she tells her it’s Tim’s issues not her. (It’s true but also it being Lucy adds tons of fuel to the fire for him) Lucy feeling stupid for wanting him to be proud. Harper is so wonderful in validating how she is feeling.

Doesn’t shame her for wanting Tim’s approval. That he got her this far. It makes sense she would want that. Tells her there is NOTHING wrong with it. Such a good scene for them. Why I love their dynamic so much. Harper is so good for Lucy and her confidence building. She covers what Tim can't. What I love about it. These were the scenes I was so excited to get to once she was on the show for these reviews.

Tim and Nolan have joined the op to surveil overhead. No way in hell he wasn’t going to be apart of this. I'm sure after that scene with Harper no one was going to stand in his way. Also how else could obsessively keep his eye on her if he’s at the station? Hehe Nolan thinks he’s helping by comforting Tim in this scene. Sorry John you don’t know him like that and his replies show it.

He is gruff, deflects and is cocky in his replies. All things he does with those he’s not comfortable around. Only Lucy gets soft Tim. I will commend Nolan for having the balls to say anything though. The gall of Tim to say 'Who said I was worried?’ Uh only anyone who’s interacted with you since this whole thing started. LOL The way you bit off Harpers head in front of a room full of people. But sure love you’re not worried…

Eric is so amazing in this scene. His face says the opposite of 'not worried' His stiff body language encompassing all his immense worry. Side note let’s not ignore the amazing shots of his jawline in this scene. Could cut glass on that thing. All scruffy too mmm love it lick it like a lollipop. Ahem anyways...His continued annoyance with Nolan shows as the scene goes on.

Especially when he tells Tim about how Lucy can handle herself. Tim is VERY aware of how capable she is. It’s why he’s a little offended in his reply. He seems annoyed Nolan even mentions she can handle it. As if he's telling Tim this for the first time. Like he hasn't ridden with her pretty much every day for a year plus. He's watched her develop into who she is now. He knows dude. Nobody knows it better than Tim Bradford how damn capable she is ya schmuck...(Oops my Nolan annoyance is showing) It’s what shakes him the most with her interest in UC. That she’s going to excel at it and that scares the hell out of him.

He is playing the worried husband to the letter. Easy Tim your feelings are showing. Showing enough that John Nolan who is usually scared of you is commenting on it. John is doing it to comfort Tim which I respect. But for Tim when it's not Lucy he isn't as receptive. As I stated about earlier he is only going to deflect, be cocky and gruff in his replies. Hence his line above. Tim isn’t going to be able to relax or breathe till she’s on the other side of this. So until then he is going to ward off Nolan and his compassion by being self assured. That he trained her so he’s not “worried". Whatever gets you through love.

Lucy acts like a complete bad ass during the whole thing. No surprise. Gets pulled into the limo with the boss and holds her own. Even speaks Tagalog impressing Salonga even further. Writes out the formula and preserves the OP. Doesn’t take long before she’s released and they’re given the money. That’s when everyone swoops in and arrests everyone. I read in theflyingdutchwoman’s amazing analysis in their anatomy Of a scene series (if you haven't read her stuff I highly recommend it) about Tim bailing on his post during this section. I couldn’t agree more I have no doubt the minute she stepped into that limo his ass was off that rooftop immediately. Ready to go when she needed him.

Tim is in fierce protector mode until he reaches Lucy. Then breathes a sigh of relief. Morphing into soft Tim instantly. Only for her. He quietly asks her if she’s ok? That small set of words exposing EVERYTHING about how he’s feeling. The anxiety and how stressed he was till this moment. She nods fervently and his body continues to relax. What follows this is so sweet. Let’s admire the way he holds her cuffed hands.

How gentle he is with her as he escorts her to the shop. He could have put his hands on her arms or elbow like Nyla got with Nolan. But then Nolan isn’t in in love with Nyla…He legit held her hands all the way to the patrol car. I love it sfm. Like he needed to do this to ground himself after the adrenaline rush he just experienced. Proving to himself that she’s there. She’s safe and he can relax.

Then comes the more beautiful part of the scene and really the episode if you ask me. Lucy isn’t expecting anything from Tim in this moment. Last time she saw him was his outburst about her even doing this. Then in the most Tim Bradford-esc way he voices how very proud he is of her. By telling her ‘You did good.’ To anyone else might not mean much. Or seem like much. To Lucy Chen it means the entire world. She knows Tim’s hang ups with UC. The demons he had arise with this. She also knows he’s putting aside those feelings to let her know he’s proud of her. Which is HUGE.

Because at the end of the day this OP was about Lucy and building her confidence in this area. He wants her to know that and does so. She craves his approval and support so much. Let’s not forget she grew up in an emotionally abusive household as well. Parents who withheld praise and support for anything she did. Never proud her. (I know that life) It’s why Tim’s approval means so damn much to her.

Why she lives and strives for it. Tim has had nothing but unconditional faith and support in her since day one. When he blew up about her doing this she thought she had lost that. These three words restore that for her. I don’t think Tim even knew the depth of how much him being proud of her meant. Ugh these idiots. I love them and their slow burn sfm. To round out the scene I adore Nyla’s wink at the end. She is also so very proud of Lucy. Handled herself like a damn pro. I love her so much for the impact she has on Lucy it’s unreal.

Poor Tim (said this a lot but seriously this ep is hard on him) has the episode end pretty roughly for him. Beth comes to find him and rip him a new one. Tim tells her he can’t excuse the past. But this is now and he stands by what he did. It calls back to 3x04 when he was telling Lucy the same thing. That he can’t fix what he did then but would make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

This situation is proof of that. Doing for Mack what he should’ve done for Isabel. It’s awful to watch her tear him apart. But the right thing and the easy thing are rarely the same. Unfortunately this is very true for Tim in this instance. He ends this ep on a low note and I just wanna hug him.

For Lucy it ends better. She makes up the report for Tamara by providing not just herself but Nyla and June for her repot as well. It’s cute to watch Tamara absorb all their banter. I love Lucy’s speech here it’s so good. Praising the women next to her in a way Tamara is revering them all. It's perfect way to the ep for them both. Such a good one.

~~~~

Side notes-non chenford

I love the introduction of Silas. I think that’s it’s didn’t really care about Nolan’s classes SL tbh. But cool castle reunion.

Thank you always to those who like, reblog and comment. Make creating these reviews so worth it shall see you all in 3x07 :)

[wakgaes]

[info] Quora posts made by wakgae Joe Black

July 2024 'https://www.quora.com/How-can-you-know-if-a-Leo-has-a-crush-on-you/answer/Joe-Black-160 https://archive.is/kfkyg

Joe Black· Jul 27 [2024] I majored in Business and Management, not science. Apparently you don’t have any idea about university college courses. Bachelor of Science or Arts, simply means it’s a 4 year course. A certificate course is 2 years. Bachelor of Science course have branches like Hotel & Restaurant management, Entreprenuer, Management, Accounting and such. It doesn’t mean you have to be in the science lab looking at microscopes everday and boiling and burning stuff, lmao. I just read this after 2 years. Thanks for the laugh

*Above is a response to June 28, 2020 Replying to an old post

June 5, 2023

'https://www.quora.com/Is-it-normal-for-jerking-off-on-a-K-Pop-music-video/answer/Joe-Black-160/log https://archive.is/qtbBt

March 17, 2024

'https://www.quora.com/What-are-your-unpopular-and-maybe-offensive-K-pop-opinions/answer/Joe-Black-160

Nov 15, 2023

'https://www.quora.com/How-do-you-know-if-someone-has-a-crush-on-you-when-they-dont-want-to-show-it-or-want-to-avoid-it-What-are-the-sure-signs/answer/Joe-Black-160/ https://archive.md/6I3EN

🗨️ Well this explains everything. Here is how filipino fatty knows if someone has a crush on someone else.

...

He is clearly a demented stalker. And he is so disconnected from reality he even dares give his stalking ways as fucking advices to others. "Always stalking you and look at trash cans he will be there" lmaooooooo He clearly has no idea at all how normal people act like when they have a crush. And even less how people who are dating act. Or how people who are close and have a crush act. For him the biggest sign of a crush is being a stalker. Litteraly, hid in the shadows, turn your back on them but following them all the time in the creepiest way in the world. I understand now why he says they are dating all the men who breath in the same building as they do because breathing in the same building as his crushes and stalking them while avoiding eye contact is the furthest he ever went.

So of course when he sees women who head over heals for each other are constantly pulled like magnets, shar rooms and even beds, share a lot of their clothes love each other explicitely for him it means nothing.

Also this "presence" thing he is imagining as romance without interacting or even creating eye contact to try to start an interaction is predator 1O1 and every woman's nightmare. "It’s just a week or month won’t pass by without them making you feel they are there." It's serial killer stuffs. [54709]

🗨️ 😬 yikes, clearly psch0pat!c too [54710]

May 16, 2023

40 is young for a single man, especially in this time and era. We don’t live in a time anymore where the standard and tradition is men should be married by that age. Even Korean male celebrities are still bachelors up until their 40’s and some even get married on their late 40’s. When a woman reach 30, they’re considered matured ladies and not young girls anymore. You’re still young bro. I’m 35 and been dating a 22 year old. https://www.quora.com/Is-a-40-year-old-guy-too-old-for-a-33-year-old-lady/answer/Joe-Black-160/log https://archive.is/A1r64

🗨️ Oh my god he is a pedo predator | Fortunately he is probabbly just liying as he is here 24/7 he doesn't have the time to harass women in real life. [54721]

| 🗨️ In his delusional mind, he has a girlfriend, a wife, and two daughters.

"I’m a Gemini, and my wife is a Pisces. The majority of the zodiac information we've read since college suggests that Gemini and Pisces are never going to be compatible, let alone like each other. We’ve been married for eight years and have two beautiful daughters. How's that?" www.quora.com/How-can-you-know-if-a-Leo-has-a-crush-on-you/answer/Joe-Black-160?comment_id=422819391&comment_type=2

If he actually had all that, then he wouldn't be answering Quora questions about some teen crushes and the giveaway of it all to being pathetic is being a Wendy akgae.[54723]

*He was 35 on May 16, 2023 and 36 on September 6, 2023. The gemini birthday is still possible https://www.tumblr.com/wakgaes/748483036006498304/youtube-joeblack7326

May 11, 2023

'https://www.quora.com/Does-Red-Velvets-Irene-have-looks-alike/answer/Joe-Black-160/log

🗨️ Filipino Fatty admires Irene's beauty but he hates her because she's a lesbian. qr.ae/p2gIVR [54275]

January 7, 2023

🗨️ https://www.quora.com/Why-do-I-feel-uncomfortable-when-a-guy-likes-me-back/answer/Joe-Black-160/ It's this incel who wants to explain things to us and thinks he understands women. "But their true female nature can’t deny what they feel and that they are programmed to give in to men."

I see that all his theories are as pathetically stupid as the ones he has about kpop girl group members.

Him spending all his life on lesbian websites with women that despise him and treat him like a pathetic fool is probably his biggest achievment. He can't even hang out with other incels like most redditors do, he is really the worst even in the male redditor scale. [54722]

June 21, 2020

https://www.quora.com/What-are-the-benefits-of-having-a-girlfriend-with-very-low-self-esteem/answer/Joe-Black-160/ 'https://archive.is/h5MuY

🗨️ no wonder zgahajakah

Answer to What are the benefits of having a girlfriend with very low self-esteem? by Joe Black [54293]

June 7, 2020

*Joe Black aka Filipino Fatty is probably short 'https://www.quora.com/I-ve-realized-that-I-have-a-crush-on-a-guy-a-lot-shorter-than-me-how-do-I-confront-him-about-my-feelings-without-making-it-weird/answer/Joe-Black-160 https://archive.is/GUzEp

April 25, 2020

'https://www.quora.com/How-can-I-seduce-my-aunt-2/answer/Joe-Black-160 https://archive.md/bqIzM

Update

As of 12:01 AM 10/27/2024 PHT, he removed his info on qoura, changed his username, and deleted his profile pic https://www.quora.com/profile/Joe-B-1480 'https://archive.md/vwBdf

[aboutmarlaahlgrimm-blog]

Marla Ahlgrimm On The Biggest Threat To Women

Marla Ahlgrimm is a women’s healthcare advocate who strongly believes that taking control of one’s health is the best way to maintain overall wellness. However, she says that there is another threat against women, and it has nothing to do with hormones or the numbers on the scale.

Marla Ahlgrimm says that more than 30% of all women globally currently or will experience violence at some point in their lifetime. The vast majority of physical assaults are perpetrated by a husband, partner, or former partner. Approximately 25% of all young women aged 15 to 24 report experiencing sexual or physical violence within the last 12 months.

At the start of the pandemic, approximately 13% of women aged 15 to 49 reported physical or sexual violence within the last year. Global lockdowns increased that number by an unknown percentage.

Another unfortunate fact about violence against women is that it affects low and middle-income women, particularly those in poor countries, more than others. In less developed countries, almost 40% of child-bearing-aged women experience physical violence from a sexual partner.

According to Marla Ahlgrimm, in 2020 alone more than 81,000 girls and women were killed by their romantic partner. Nearly 60% of these died due to actions perpetrated against them by a family member or partner. For those of us doing the math, this results in a female being murdered every 11 minutes.

The effects of of the pandemic

Although the numbers are not fully known, there is significant evidence that violence against women intensified during the worst parts of the pandemic. Marla Ahlgrimm says this could have been related to stress or simply shared proximity. Many women and girls typically find sanctuary from violence when they go to school or work. When this was no longer an option, the most vulnerable were left in close vicinity to their abuser 24/7. Marla Ahlgrimm calls the added violence against women a shadow pandemic.

Approximately a year and a half into the pandemic – October 2021 – more than 50 countries had begun to address the issue of violence against women. Today, 157 countries have strengthened their services to protect and aid violence survivors as a direct result of the uptick in violent crimes committed against women during the pandemic.

Marla Ahlgrimm hopes that women feel safe enough with a friend, family member, or authority figure to report violence. Unfortunately, 60% of women do not. This is especially prevalent in countries where men continue to be elevated socially above their female counterparts.

Violence takes a toll on a woman’s physical and mental health. On a wider scale, violence against women results in direct and indirect costs to both the individual and their communities as a whole. Marla Ahlgrimm explains, for example, that lost earnings related to violence against women in Vietnam represent nearly 1.5% of the country’s GDP.

In addition to physical violence, Marla Ahlgrimm reports that sex trafficking also affects females at a disproportionate rate than males. 92% of human trafficking victims are girls, and a huge majority of these are 15 years or younger. Marla Ahlgrimm also notes that child marriage, although decreasing across most countries, remains prevalent throughout the Caribbean and Latin America. Even more concerning, some countries continue to practice female genital mutilation as a socially acceptable practice.

Violence against women is a universal issue that has to have a universal solution. While Marla Ahlgrimm does not have an answer for the question of how to stop violence, she encourages women to come forward and seek help, which may be the only way to prevent future violent crimes against them individually.

[bucksfucks]

  𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 ; 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀

summary┃you didn’t want to be innocent anymore so you decide to confess your sins to father barnes in hopes of him helping you.

pairing┃priest!bucky x f!reader

word count┃3,013 words

warnings┃total blasphemy of religion (christianity) ; don’t read if you’re uncomfortable, significant undefined age-gap (reader is in her 20’s, bucky in late 30’s), innocence kink, thumb sucking, praise kink, bucky is not entirely holy/pure, virginity kink/virginity taking, size kink, pet-names, slight manipulation and/or degradation, bucky scolds reader for her thoughts at first, first time blowjob, first orgasm(s), fingering, corruption kink, unprotected sex, bratty reader for a moment, reader prays for bucky fucking her, bucky finishes on readers dress, lots of symbolism on being pure — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

notes┃for the purpose of this fic, bucky does not have a metal arm <<3

     Innocence.

    You hated the concept of it.

    Wearing a clean, bright white dress with a sweet smile on your face as you remembered your manners—how could you be anything but innocent?

    It made you cringe, scrunch your nose with a huff as you wanted to scream into your pillow.

    Why did you have to be so innocent?

    Your parents raised you to be a good little Christian girl. Devoting her life to Christ and making sure to attend church every week as you said your prayers before bed every night.

    What your parents didn’t know is what you prayed for.

    Maybe you should’ve prayed for your health, or even your happiness, but no.

    You prayed for your innocence being stripped, ripped away from you and staining that perfectly clean white dress you snarled at.

    Church was a chore, an absolute bore even, until Father Barnes made his way into town.

    All eyes were on him as he greeted those who walked into his church on early mornings. He was soft and kind, kissing the cheeks of the women and shaking the hands of the men.

    You also saw how women would fawn over him, whispering in the pews about how good he looked behind the alter before giggling.

    But, how could you blame them when you had the same, darker, dirtier thoughts.

    It was obvious what he did to you; legs crossing over another, tongue gliding over your bottom lip, and the ache between your thighs just from the way his eyes met yours.

    You remember the first time you baked your famous chocolate chip cookies for the annual church bake sale, Father Barnes buying nearly all of them after you gave him one on the house (as a secret).

    “These are nearly as sweet as you,” Father Barnes winked, quickly licking some of the melted chocolate off his fingers.

    It made your heart flutter as you dropped your head to look at your feet, “thank you, Father.”

    He seemed to grimace at the name, “call me, Bucky, yeah? It’ll be our little secret.”

    You had still never been able to call him Bucky. It felt almost wrong, but it had always been on the tip of your tongue.

    If your mother heard you call him that she’d scold you for being so rude. She insisted that you be a good and proper lady.

    You just made a face when she turned around.

    You didn’t want to be a proper lady. You dreamed of the stories you heard when you were in the city, a table over from girls chatting about their nights out.

    You wanted that.

    Above all else, you wanted Father Barnes. You knew it was wrong, to fantasize about him, but you couldn’t help it.

~

    “Father Barnes?” You found yourself saying his name as you sat atop of one of the tables on the side of the alter that was used for communion to hold the chalices.

    He hummed, looking up from his Bible, “what is it, Angel?”

    Your stomach fluttered at the pet-name. You knew it was nothing special, but it always made you feel something.

    “Can I ask you a question?” You felt small under his gaze, turning his undivided attention to you as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth.

    “Of course you can, that’s what I’m here for.” He smiled and you felt safe with him—you always did.

    Perhaps that’s why you felt safe with the confession you were about to spill.

    “I’ve had these feelings,” you begin, avoiding eye contact with him as you felt ashamed.

    “About a man. And he’s much older than me.” That seemed to truly grab his attention. His eyebrows snot up, jaw clenching as you stopped speaking.

    He tensed, body stiff and the soft look on his face was replaced with a much sterner, angrier look.

    “These are not Holy thoughts, are they?” He asked, but he knew the answer as you shook your head in shame.

    You were a disgrace, the house of God being desecrated by your words as you stood in it—sitting practically at the alter.

    “You’re going to confess, understood? Tomorrow.” He finally said, going back to his verses as you just nodded.

    “I’m sorry, Father,” you squeaked, hopping off of the small table and onto the old, wooden floors of the church.

    You were just about to pass him when he gently stopped you by grabbing your arm. You met his eyes and they were soft, but dark.

    “I don’t want you to go down the same path that I did, Angel. I’m here to guide you, I cannot let an innocent girl like you fall into the desires I did.”

    Your breathing got caught in your throat—you knew he wasn’t as Holy as he made himself out to be.

    Reborn or not, he was dark on the inside.

    “Aren’t you tired of it?” You asked, “tired of the innocence?”

    He chuckled, shaking his head, “I may be Holy, but I’m not innocent, Angel.”

    Your skin felt like it was ablaze where his fingers met your body. Grip just tight enough to keep you anchored and tethered to him.

    “Well I’m tired of it. I hate being innocent.”

    Your words hit him in the chest, nostrils flaring as he cocked his head to the side.

    “I know you’re a good girl, so I’ll excuse this behaviour after three Hail Mary’s.” He was scolding you, treating you like a child.

    You rolled your eyes, “no.”

    You don’t know what had gotten into you, but you knew that familiar ache between your thighs was back and Bucky had an almost feral look in his eyes.

    His chest was heaving under the plain black dress shirt he was wearing. Despite lacking his ceremonial cassock, the clerical collar wrapped snug around his neck made him appear Holy.

    “Angel,” his tone was warning, but he never once let go of your arm.

    “Take my innocence, Father. I want you to be the one.” You whispered, not missing the low groan that fell from his lips.

    “I know that no man my age will ever know how to treat me right. I want you to ruin me, to take my innocence away finally.”

    Your own eyes were wild, heart racing in your chest as your breathing was as steady as you could have made it.

    It was impossible to know what he would say next. He could punish you, tell your mother, expose you to the entire town.

    “When it’s late at night and you can’t sleep, do you touch yourself, Angel?” His voice had dropped an octave, rumbling through his chest as you feel the fire ignite inside of you.

    “Sometimes,” you whisper, Father Barnes dropping your arm only to cradle your face.

    “And does it feel good?” He purrs, thumb brushing over your cheek as you nod your head.

    He hums, “but I bet you want more, right?”

    Again, you nod your head, ache burning through your white cotton panties as your fingers play with the hem of that white dress you despised so much.

    “I’ll teach you, Angel,” he finally says, “but,” there it was.

    “It has to be our little secret, just like how I told you to call me Bucky, remember?” He smiles and you feel your stomach flip in excitement.

    “I promise,” you told him before his lips slotted gently against yours.

    You’d had your first kiss, but, it was never like this. It was a peck with your first and only boyfriend. He didn’t do anything more than hold your hand occasionally.

    He was sweet, but never the man of your dreams.

    Bucky’s lips glided over yours seamlessly, tongue poking into your mouth and it made you gasp before you leaned into it.

    “Jus’ relax,” he smiled into the kiss, “don’t forge anythin’, do what comes naturally.”

    And you did, wrapping your arms around his neck as you were pulled back in for another kiss as he held you close to his broad chest.

    “I need you to get on your knees for me, Angel. Like you do for worship.” He murmurs against your lips.

    You do as you’re told, sinking to your knees until your face is right at his crotch.

    A shiver runs down your spine, you’d never been this close to any man ever. He was bulging, outline of his cock straining as he tipped your head up.

    “Don’t worry, Angel. ‘M gonna take care of you, and this is a very important lesson.” He smirks, thumb resting on your bottom lip.

    You nod, eager and ready to get stripped of your innocence.

    “Good girl,” the praise is simple, but it makes you feel proud.

    “Open your mouth for me,” he purrs, thumb past your lips as your lips instinctively wrap around his digit.

    He smiles, “that’s it, relax that tongue of yours, Angel. Pretend like you’re suckin’ on a popsicle, gonna have to hollow your cheeks out.”

    You take a deep breath, following his instruction as you slowly suck on his thumb.

    When he removes it with a soft pop, your eyes are trailed on the saliva coating it and you have to squeeze your legs together.

    “Uh uh, stop that,” you still, “I know, it’s uncomfortable Angel. But it’ll feel so much better this way, okay?”

    You whimper, biting your lip, “it hurts,” you whine.

    He sighs, just watching you pout as you see the way his dick twitches, “then undo my pants, Angel.”

    You’re fingers are slightly lost, going to his top button before you’re sliding his zipper down and looking at him for instructions.

    “Take me out, you won’t hurt me, darling.” You’ve never done this, never been so close and so intimate with someone and it sparks something inside of you.

    He’s warm, throbbing, and thick as you pull him free. It makes you gasp, “it’s so big.” You whisper in awe.

    He chuckles, body shaking slightly with his laughter, “there’s nothin’ to be afraid of, Angel.”

    “Open your mouth, just like with my thumb, yeah?” He cooes as you stick your tongue out and lick the head of his cock.

    The groan that rumbles through his chest is filthy and it only encourages you as you slip him into your mouth.

    It’s foreign and he tastes salty and bitter, but you love it.

    “Mmm, good girl,” he hums, “but you’re gonna wanna make a mess, yeah?”

    You’re not too sure what he means so you look up at him, “spit on my cock, Angel.”

    Your eyes go wide and you’re looking at him unsure, but do what you’re told.

    “Now just like this, okay?” He wraps his larger hands over yours as he helps you stroke him.

    He lets his hand fall, your own working his cock before your mouth is back on his and you’re humming around him.

    You think it’s not very different from a popsicle, in fact, you like it so much more.

    “Such a quick learner, Angel. Is this what you’ve been prayin’ for?” He taunts you darkly, goosebumps pricking your skin.

    Your salvia coats him, hands working him and you’re enjoying the moment before you’re being yanked to your feet.

    “That’s enough, don’t wanna get too carried away now,” Bucky smirks, wiping your lips with his tongue.

    “Did I do good?” You ask, preening before him for any sort of praise.

    He laughs, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you against him—his cock pressing against your clean white dress.

    “So good, Angel.” He hums, spinning you around to set you down on one of the table near the alter.

    “But now it’s your turn,” he smirks as he hikes your dress up your thighs until it’s bunched around your waist.

    You feel exposed, eyes flickering to the empty pews and abandoned church as you lick your lips in anticipation.

    It’s blasphemy, pure unadulterated blasphemy and you’ll never be able to go to church the same way.

    “Now these are cute,” Bucky smirks, fingers running up your inner thighs until they’re resting on your panty clad core.

    You furrow your eyebrows at the word cute. But before you can say anything you’re gasping, shock of pleasure running through your limbs suddenly.

    “And look,” he’s got his fingers pressed against the bundle of nerves that makes you moan into the palm of your own hand.

    “Angel, you’re absolutely soaked.” You aren’t sure if that’s a good thing, but you’re aching for him—not even sure what you’re aching for; just something, anything.

    His fingers are warm as they slip under your panties, gliding through your folds—the feeling is entirely new and you’re already addicted.

    “Is-is that good?” You manage to squeak out as he focuses his fingers on that delicate bunch of nerves.

    “Oh it’s perfect, Angel,” his lips are against your neck as he slowly works you until you can feel pressure forming in your lower belly.

    He stops, fingers stilling as you pry your eyes open and take a deep breath, “why’d you stop?”

    “Have you ever cum, darling?” He disregards your question for his own.

    You gulp, shaking your head “I’ve tried, but I never could.”

    He smirks, liking your answer before he withdraws his hand and gets you to stand on the ground again. He smoothed your dress down before his hands creep up it and hook into the waistband of your panties.

    You watch him as he pulls them down your legs, letting you step out of them before he’s crumpling them up and stuffing them in his pocket.

    “They’re mine now, Angel.”

    A wicked shiver runs down your spine as he hoists you back onto the table, opening your legs to reveal your naked pussy.

    He sucks in a breath, groaning at the sight before his eyes lock with yours again.

    You can feel his fingers run down your mound, through the hair until he’s prodding at your entrance.

    “‘M gonna have to get you nice and stretched out for me, okay?” He whispers and you swallow thickly, nodding your head.

    You moan when you feel his finger slip inside of you, “that’s it, feels nice, right?”

    He lets you adjust before pumping in and out until you’re begging for a second finger.

    “Do you think you can handle it, Angel?” He hums, teasing you as he slowly adds a second as you hiss and knit your eyebrows together.

    “Jus’ a little bit more, darling.” He hums. You feel full, the slight burning sensation subsides and it feels better than anything you could have imagined.

    He pumps them, palm hitting your clit before he begins to curl them inside of you and it makes you moan.

    “That’s it, Angel. Scream for the heavens to hear.” He teases you and how could you resist a request like that one.

    That same bubbling feeling begins to form again and you start to panic because you’ve never gotten any further than this point.

    “Shh shh shh, darling. It’s okay, jus’ relax, it’s about to feel so good.”

    The second those words leave his mouth your jaw drops and your legs seize as your orgasm hits you.

    It leaves you dizzy and breathless before you open your eyes, “I think you’re ready, Angel. You’re ready to receive me.”

    You whimper, watching him free himself again before he fists his cock.

    “‘S gonna hurt, but only for a little bit, okay Angel?” Bucky assures you, your eyes locked on his white collar as you nod your head.

    “Yes, Father,” you say instinctively and something snaps in Bucky.

    “Good girl, confessin’ your sins and trustin’ me with takin’ your virginity.”

    It’s the first time that word slips past his mouth, slowly stretching you. When you throw your head back, eyes locking with the Holy Cross, your brain fuzzes with nothing but the thought of Bucky.

    “Every time you get on your knees,” he sinks further, “every time you come to church on Sunday’s.” He’s almost fully seated in you as you feel tears brimming your waterline.

    “You’ll be thinkin’ of my cock buried deep ‘side of your tight pussy.”

    You shudder, a few tears slipping down your cheeks, “don’t cry, Angel. That’s it, that was all of me.” He cooes, wiping your tears with his thumb.

    “Look at me,” he hums, your eyes are glossy as they open to look at him, “your prayers have been answered.” He smirks wickedly and you feel your heart drop.

    “You’re not innocent anymore, you’re all for me now.” His nose runs down your jaw as his fingers dig deeper into the skin of your hips.

    “You have any idea how hard it’s gonna be preachin’ with you sittin’ there all pretty as if my cock wasn’t deep ‘side you?” He moves his hips, thrusting against you as you moan.

    “How’s it feel, Angel?” He purrs, “so good, Father,” you gasp.

    Both of your moans echo through the tall ceilings of the church, Father Barnes’ skin slapping against yours as you’re clinging onto him.

    “I can feel you squeezin’ me, darling.” You feel him deep inside of you, walls massaging him as you feel the pressure building again.

    “You can cum for me, Angel. There’s no need to hold back, no one can hear us,” he smirks, feeling you come undone right underneath him.

    He pulls out, cock still hard and aching as he holds your chin between his fingers, “it’s a good thing you wore white, darling.” He groans, confused before you feel hot specks against your body.

    When you look down you see the white hot spurts painting your dress with his cum.

    He’s breathing heavy, cock still in his hand as he looks up at with a sly smile.

    “You’ve still got so much to learn, Angel. I’ll hold private office hours just for you.”

    Your heart skips a beat at the proposal and you can’t wait for Sunday to come around quicker.

    Lucky for you, laundry day wasn’t for another week, which means you’d have to wear the same dress—stained with secrets only you and Father Barnes know of.

[acaplion]

Astro Notes and Observations #4

Hi! Welcome to my 4th installment of Astro Notes and Observations. I wrote half this post before realizing I really needed to tackle all the astro questions in my inbox. I decided to start incorporating your asks into my astro notes. It saves me time which means you may actually get answered. If you enjoyed this post, please reblog or like so more people can see this post. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the love and support. Check out the masterlist here for more astrology insights and tarot pick a pile readings.

Tip Jar

Geminis and being two faced: Look, Geminis are not the only ones who can be two faced sometimes, ALL placements can. That’s not why you “hate” Geminis, no they are not all toxic. Don’t hate on people’s placements until you get to know them. That’s why a lot of normies dislike astrology because it seems like we judge before getting to know someone.

The gossips of the zodiac are:

🦁 Leo: Did you really think the drama queens of the zodiac wouldn’t like gossip? They honestly can just be little shits sometimes and enjoy stirring the pot. While they can be hurt by gossip about them, ultimately they brush it off because internally they kind of like being talked about?

🌸 Libra: One of the sweetest signs in the zodiac but yeah they are not above some girl talk or gossip. They don’t mean to hurt people they just like to talk. Since they seem so friendly, people will often tell them secrets and tea without even realizing it.

Scorpio: While they hate gossip about them…no seriously don’t gossip about a Scorpio unless you want revenge served back to you, they don’t mind gossiping about others. They are great observers you see and for some reason others confide in them so they often know the tea before everyone else. They do respect your privacy, so if you spill tea to a Scorpio just make sure to tell them not to tell anyone else.

💁🏼‍♀️Geminis: I think it’s pretty obvious that Gemini likes to gossip also. Ruled by Mercury they know everyone’s business and they sometimes lack a filter. They are also generally quite bubbly and talkative so sometimes things just slip out. They also tend to have a larger group of friends which they love to gossip with.

Capricorn Venus, Moon: You best believe these bitches have love as a literal goal. I will give you an example: I want to be married by age 30, have two kids by 32 -one male and one female. They might find that love is the hardest thing to check off. Doing well in school and career may come easier than succeeding in love.

Chiron in the 8th house:This observation is from my friend who also reads astrology charts. He mentioned that Chiron in the 8th house could indicate the death of someone important. That death though would leave the Chiron individual with an inheritance.

🏃🏽‍♀️Aries Rising: I have personally seen this in a few of my friends who have this placement. They have ZERO patience and they go through everything in life extremely fast. They may also suffer from ADD or ADHD.

🍀Jupiter in the 11th house: These people are SO lucky when it comes to friendships. They just attract good friends to them, friends that are loyal and caring. These friends may even help them out (giving them a place to live, helping them find jobs). These natives are never without a close group of friends.

Moon conjunct IC: These natives enjoy their house a little too much sometimes. They might be extroverted, but they will always prefer lying in bed at home binge watching tv or something.

Capricorn in the 4th house can indicate someone who feels like the black sheep of the family. They feel like they are different and unique from their family members. They may either feel the most mature out of their family or the least mature.

Pluto Dominant Women: To put it in simplest terms, I think a Pluto Dominant woman is Bad-Ass! They are intimidating, they are constantly evolving and they are usually associated with power. Pluto Dominants are also called Plutonian and they are imbued with power. They have a magnetism about them that draws people in. They crave power and are natural leaders. There is a downside to this though, as they can easily end up in relationships where they manipulate the other. Think of Hades and Persephone and the way Hades treated her. That is the danger of any pluto dominant. They also are likely to have a rough childhood/life. Pluto as a planet is about intensity, obsession, power so it tends to bring intense pain, intense suffering, intense transformations etc.

Sun in the 7th house Culture: Having Sun in the 7th house means that love, life partners and marriages will hold a significant part in your life. They may find themselves jumping from person to person because they think they find themselves in someone else. They feel like they “shine the best” when they have a beautiful partner on their arms. There is a danger of putting too much stock in your partner and feeling lost when you are single. This could be a negative placement for marriage and cause disharmony. But I personally believe that everything can be fixed if you learn to rely on yourself instead of someone else.

Natives with Sun in the 7th house may find themselves attracted to Leos (ruled by the sun), Leo dominants, 5th house placements, sun in the 5th house etc.

Jupiter Sextile Ascendant: I love this placement! I feel like this placement would bring a lot of luck and good vibes to you. People look at you and want to be your friend, giving you this easy going popularity. You seem happy most of the time so people are naturally drawn to you and offer you partnerships. It is easy for you to do well in school and may go on to postgraduate studies. You are not very judgemental and listen to others' viewpoints. You are open minded in your approach to spirituality, religion, philosophy etc. which you cultivate by becoming friends with many different people.

Synastry Notes:

Sun/Mars conjunction in 8th house(Leo) + Jupiter: 8th house placements naturally get a bad rep when it comes to astrology. Generally speaking though, it does bring intensity into a relationship. Having Sun in the 8th house is very intense and it can often feel like a collar is wrapped around both necks yanking you guys together. The sun person will be in awe of the house person even if they are also scared. They see the power of the 8th house native to transform them. The sun person may want to run, but they find it hard to actually do so because they feel inexplicably drawn to the house person. The 8th house person doesn’t want to let go of the connection either because they feel emotionally drawn to you. They recognize how much they can change you and they want it. This is honestly a placement that will feel intense, scary and passionate for both people. It may feel like a wreck, you can see it coming but neither of you are strong enough to stop the crash.

Mars in the 8th house synastry: This is a relationship that is hot and steamy when together. There is this passion and urgency to be together with this placement. This is not just fun and games, this is true intimacy, of becoming one in mind and body. This again is not for the faint of heart, because this will be intense, passionate and not something you will forget easily.

Jupiter in the 8th house: This is a great placement to have in the 8th house. Jupiter is the planet of luck (the opposite of Saturn) so it can lighten things when placed in the 8th house. This helps dull out the intensity of other 8th house synastry placements. There will be a natural give and take with Jupiter in the 8th house. Refrain from taking advantage of the Jupiter person’s generosity however!

love, 

acaplion

Well that's it for this installment of astro notes! Please let me know your thoughts in a comment or in a reblog. I really enjoy doing these for you guys so feel free to send in your astro questions and I will incorporate them into my astro notes. I hope you guys have a happy holiday season! Much love to every single one of you guys! 

© acaplion December 2021 

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

I'm reading too many fanfics and today I want something more cute than romantic, so I would like Stella with an S/o to be her personal butler who took care of her during her childhood and adolescence (bonus if S/o used to sing to Stella when she was a kid) . obviously the S / o must have a great preparation to be worthy of taking care of the daughter of the parents who were certainly one of the causes of Stella to be like this

Stella's personal Servant and S/O

You had spent years in preparation for when you would meet your mistress.

It was a common practice amongst the nobility.

You take a child from a lower house, train and raising them to become the personal servant to a child from a higher noble family.

You were of lower stock, your family heavily reliant on Stella's family, and being the youngest of your line, you found yourself chosen to be her servant.

Although the agreement basically surrendered one of there own to a life of servitude, it also brought prestige to there household, while also placing one of there own at the right hand of the next head of a powerful household.

Despite your years of training, you were still increadibly nervous upon meeting her, terrified you'd do something wrong and screw it up.

But much to your surprise, she wasn't some terrifying ice queen who could vapourise you with a glare.

She was just a girl. A young, normal looking noble girl. Seemingly not much older than you.

Your meeting was somewhat awkward, you being unsure how you should interact with her outside of the cold formalities you were taught.

Your relationship was an unusual one.

As while, yes you were her servant, you were also expected to be her closest allie and truest friend.

You were expected to take on every burden she had, to carry and guard them to the death.

A concept that hadn't fully registered in your young mind yet, but despite your age, you quickly acclimated to your new responsibilities.

You had, of course, been give training for your new duty, but much of it was learnt in the field.

You found yourself working into a schedule; wake up before her, get clean, have breakfast before waking her up at 7:30 sharp.

From there you would help her dress, something you were quite flustered about the first time around. Then you accompanied her to breakfast, then to her first lesson of the day.

You were often dismissed during her lessons, returning to her room to tidy up, or have her clothes cleaned.

It took time but eventually you were just as capable at cleaning and serving as any veteran servant of the household.

Now, initially Stella was quite... cold towards you. Treating you not much better than any other servant of the home.

But she did eventually warm to you, starting the night you heard her having a nightmare.

Much to her annoyance you had been moved into the room besides her, giving her 24 hour access to you, and you to her.

So you were easily capable of hearing her toss and turn in bed, her whimpers getting louder and louder. Until she awoke, with a scream.

You instantly shot into action, sliding into her room and pulled her into your embrace.

Holding her to your chest, you did your best to sooth her. Barely being a boy yourself you were quite inexperience with such things.

So you did the only thing you could, you sang to her.

You sung her the song your wet nurse used to sing you when you had a bad dream. Holding her for what felt like hours, gently singing to her until she fell back to sleep.

The next morning she insisted you call her Stella, unlike before when she demand the customary 'Lady' or 'Mistress'.

Not long after that she began addressing you by name. The two of you seeming to enter a level of mutual respect.

Similar events would happen several more times during your youth, each time you sang her the same song, holding her close and soothing her.

You brought up the nightmares to her parents, the two seemingly didn't care. Her parents just coldlt telling you 'They were something she needed to get over herself.'

And her parents weren't the warmest family, both her parents seemed obsessed with there appearances, placing politics over the well bing of there own daughter.

So you made her well-being your top priority, always asking if she was OK or if she wanted to talk.

In preparation for you new duties you had already received extensive training in everything from cleaning to first aid.

But as the the two of you grew, you began getting lessons in far more hands on fields.

As you were expected to be her faithful guardian. You were trained in various forms of combat, with everything from knives, to assault rifles.

Followed by several specialised first aid courses, each one dedicated to a different field of medicine.

You excelled through each course, taking the role as both servant and protector as your own.

Despite being younger then your charge, your mentality quickly matured beyond your years, willing and prepared to fight to the death for your charge.

You fully embraced you postion, putting aside everything you were and giving yourself to your new role, absolutely.

As the two of you grew older, you also grew closer and closer. And due to your special status as her personal servant, having less limitations put on you then a regular servant of the house, you could act as more of a friend to the girl. Acting as a trusted confidant for the girls troubles.

As you matured your skills, both physically and mentally, you learned to better dedicat your new skills to what would most efficiently aid your liege.

While you excelled in your training dedicating your self to the task before you, the main problem you faced was, Stella.

It may seem petty, but Stella being of a higher and more powerful cast meant she grew to tower over you by at least a foot.

Something she was sure to rub in your face.

And it may not seem like that big of a deal, but protecting someone much taller then you, was a constant struggle. As they were far more visible then yourself and could be targeted from angles you weren't able to see.

But you did your absolute best, going above and beyond as her steadfast companion, hapily waiting on her hand a foot.

It seemed like a blink if an eye and the beautiful young lady you once served had grown into a beautiful young woman.

And much to your shame, over the years spent together, you had developed a deep affection for her, an affection that went far beyond friendship.

Of course you would never publicly admit such a thing, your years of training alloweing you to keep such your feelings suppressed. Only allowing your affection to show through in what would be expected of a typical platonic relationship.

When Stella came to the age of 17, her parents decided to send her to an academy famous for its education of young noble women.

The problem was, it was an all girls academy. And you being her private servant, and right hand, the two of you could not be sepperated for such a long period of time.

It took a fair bit of political manoeuvring and more then a few favours to get you in, but by the end of it, you found yourself enrolled right besides her.

You were to attend every class as well as share quarters with Stella. You were not to leave her side unless absolutely necessary.

You were far from the only servant to accompany there mistress.

You found a variety of them, from Imps to hellhounds. You even saw a few succubus amongst them.

But the thing that really stood out, was that you were the only male, even amongst the staff.

Initially life at the academy went fantastic.

Stella, with her confident nature and families status thrived at the academy, easily rising the social ranks, making friends and allies.

The whole thing bringing a great sense of warmth to your black heart.

You stood back and proudly watched as she excelled amongst her peers, only having to step in to aid her in her day to day.

But unfortunately, problems did arise. And much to your shame, they were spawned from you.

Now, you had already received a fair amount of attention from the Student; Stares, love letters, lustful gazes. But you were there for Stella, the affects of there attention quickly dissipated as you focused on Stella.

Now you being a fairly attractive young man, in exceptional shape from years of work and being the only male in a school of a few hundred young hormonal women.

But initially, being Stella's servant stopped anyone from pursuing you, as relations with someone below them was punished severely by both the school and there families.

Unfortunately the question of who you were was quickly raised, Stella without much concern or thought, told them all about your special status as both a noble and a servant.

And that's were the problems really began.

You see, sleeping with another family's servant, was an excellent way to get yourself disowned by your family.

But a fling with a servant, whom was also a fellow noble... that could be tolerated.

You were greatly surprised to find just how tolerant the school was of such behaviour.

It would seem that despite there rather strict policy on student/Staff relations, that being pubished severely.

But the school was unwilling to take serious action against noble children for have relations amongst themselves.

It seemed they allowed the students to let out there rebellious phase in small ways, perhaps a method to help make them into proper nobles.

Needless to say, you had never been so happy you were Stella's servant.

You'd heard how some of them talked about you, and if Stella wasn't your mistress, your quite certain you'd be used as a tool for political gain, regardless how you felt about it.

Ironically, you found Stella becoming far more possessive of you, especially whenever someone began to show interest in you.

Now she had always been possessive of you to a degree, snapping at anyone who dared to treat you poorly or acted like you were supposed to serve them, something that happened quite often amongst nobility.

You liked to think it was her way of marking her territory, all the while showing you that she had your back. And with all the attention you were getting, it only made sense for her to be a bit more possessive.

Adding to your growing shame, seeing Stella becoming such a strong, confident woman had only strengthened your feelings for her.

In your mind, you had kept your feeling for Stella perfectly hidden. Only allowing your affection to show, through your friendly and platonic behaviour.

Apparently you were wrong.

Parties were surprisingly common on the school grounds, with a major party seemingly occurring at least once a month.

Stella being ever the socialite, was of course invited. The young lady flirtaciously telling you were invited as well. Following her to the party, you found a small herd of teens sipping wine from plastic cups, talking amongst themselves.

Playing nobility.

It was fun for the most part.

Everyone was dancing and drinking. And much to your surprise Stella was quite lax when it came to alcohol, drinking more than her fair share.

A little tipsy, she found you, demanding you dance with her.

Now you, on the other hand, did not party. You did not drink, you did not fraternise and you most certainly didn't dance.

You were her guardian, you were supposed to watch over her, not get drunk with her in some random dormroom.

But Stella ordered you, not having the will to refuse her, you complied.

You danced and drank and partied. And for the first time in your life, you let yourself he a teenager.

And you enjoyed it. You enjoyed being with Stella.

The mood quickly soured when, as Stella left to get a drink, some random girl grabbed you by the collar and rather aggressively tried to kiss you.

You were able to hold her back of course, even inebriated you were still strong enough to hold back a drunk teenage girl.

You were freaking out, unable to think of what to do, only for Stella to appear and violently rip her off you, beating the crap out of the her right there infront of all the other party goers.

She screamed at the girl, telling her to never touch what belonged to her again. Before without saying a word, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the party.

She dragged you into a nearby allyway, ranting and raving about how dare someone touch you, you belonged to her and she was sick of having to remind people.

Her words becoming progressively more possessive, you just half drunkenly stumbling your much taller mistress.

Raising the question of her increasingly possessive language, you saw her entire body shift.

Walking up to you, she pressed her body up against yours, effortlessly pinning you to the wall.

It was pointless to struggle, as even with all your training she was still stronger.

With eyes you had never seen before, she stared into your own and asked if you liked her.

You were both shocked and terrified, you were so sure you had been careful.

You sputtered something out, trying to hide your feelings before she cut you off with a passionate kiss.

She held you close as she told you all about how she knew you liked her, about how she knew you always held yourself back.

But she understood why.

You were left stunned when she told you the reason she knew why, was because she'd been doing the same. She confessed she had fallen for you, but like you, she had kept her feeling secret because such a relationshi wouldn't be "proper"!

But she didn't care anymore.

She was sick of keeping her feelings for you a secret, sick of watching other women get to speak and act freely while she was forced to hold her tongue.

She wanted you and she was going to have you, no matter what anyone thought.

She dragged you back to your dormroom, although it was more like a small apartment before dragging you to her bed.

Sitting above you she asked if you wanted this, unable to think of the right words you just gave her another passionate kiss.

The two of you spent the night together.

Your relationship was kept a secret for the rest of her time in the academy. The two of you agreeing it would be best and with Your position already giving you the best possible excuse to be close together.

Once you both graduated, Stella's parents tried to have an arranged marriage set up for her, hoping to achieve greater prestige for the family.

But much to your surprise, she blatantly refused.

Instead she using her new-found political connections and usurped her parents, taking the family name and the role of head of household as her own.

Her first act, openly declaring your relationship.

You were deeply relieved the outcry was very minimal, contained to only a few already outspoke critics that apposing her anyways.

And so you stood by her ever since. As bother her loyal protector and faithful lover.

Hey hey, this one was a challenge, but I still enjoyed it. If any of you have a request or want to submit a prompt, go right ahead. Check out my master list for what I won't write and go for it. Thank you all for reading.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

ascendance - 01

PAIRING: mob!bucky barnes x reader

WARNINGS: violence, dark themes, age gap (reader is 23, bucky is 37)

SUMMARY: she was at the wrong place at the wrong time and a misunderstanding dooms her to a life as an ascendance card under the watch of the executer.

A/N: i’m so excited to go back to my mob writing roots with this one. there’s a bit of a few twists and changes to the traditional mob writing i’ve done before and i am really excited to be sharing chapter one with you. hope you enjoy it xx

> NEXT CHAPTER 

The ambience was dark, badly lit by the yellow flickering lights in the halls with echoes of the buzzing of the hot old light bulbs. There was no sound but that buzz and the heavy sound of his boots hitting the rotting wood floor boards. The scent in the air was putrid, a mix of what seemed like life meeting its end stage, cheap cider and weed. It was definitely different and he didn’t trust it. 

At the end of the corridor there it was. 107. The 107th flat in purgatory with the door slightly opened. He pushed the door open, the smell getting more intense and his boots sticky with the liquor spilled on the floor. 

     - What did you do? - each word was punctuated with intense disbelief, as if this was all a nightmare. 

     - Bucky, help me!

PRESENT

The wind brushed and pulled her hair into different directions as she stepped off the train’s step. She rushed through the streets of New York, hair pin stuck in the middle of her teeth as she fought the winds to try and set her hair into an appropriate hair do while running down the street at the same time. The chattering people and the sun peaking through the clouds was hopeful as she grabbed her coffee from the same vendor off the side street as her eyes gazed upon the Metropolitan Opera House which had been gracing the New York landscape for longer than she had been on this earth and now she was part of it, she was a small speck in an almost 60 year long history. 

Her smiled widened as her sneakers hit the pavement, eyes gazing over the fountain and the flags of the production coming down from the opera house’s arches. The same production she was part off. Sure, she was a chorus girl but the mere thought of singing on that stage, of watching that public in those red velvet seats under the chandelier just made it all more exciting. She walked inside the theatre through the stage door, meeting the manager at the door. 

     - Hi. - she leaned her hands against the desk where the manager was surrounded by attendance and cast sheets as well as a big laptop shining a blue light onto her face. The woman didn’t even look up, instead putting up a board with the names of all people in the production in front of her. - Do you need to see my ID? 

     - Just sign in front of your name. 

Y/N giddily looked at the list of names, hers closer to the bottom but there, written in bold Arial font. She signed her name in front of her printed one with the barely working pen, before pinning it over the board and handing it over to the manager who pointed inside the opera theatre. She held onto her gym bag harshly, padding the sublime floors and looking around with such wonder one would believe she’d never been here. She’d been here before, she was here every month to watch a performance but now she was not guest, she was not just another person walking in with a ticket, she was part of it, she was part of the show. After years of doing community plays, workshops and failed auditions, she had gotten here and suddenly all those days spent in bed feeling miserable in bed after getting rejected yet again didn’t matter anymore she was here.

Her eyes glanced at every tiny little ornament in the opera house until she entered the theatre room. Her heart filled with joy and happy nostalgia as the red and golden tones of the room involved her. There wasn’t anyone in the theatre yet except for a few musicians from the instrumental pit and some cleaners so she was free to roam around. Her fingers traced the suede velvet of the red seats, finding a few missing binoculars on the grounds but not really caring. 

     - You! - she whipped her head towards the voice which came from a woman, probably in her mid 40s all dressed in black with a gold name tag slightly above her left breast. 

     - Hi. - Y/N smiled, extending her hand towards the woman. - I’m Y/N, I’m the new ...

    - I don’t care, we need silk ribbons, now. 

    - Oh, I ... I’m new, I don’t know where I’d get silk ribbons, m’am.

    - The costume room? Go, stop looking at me as if you were Bambi and go.

    - Oh, okay. 

She made her way hastily out of the theatre room wondering how she was going to find silk ribbons, where she was going to find them and why she had to find them. Maybe it was a hazing ritual for new people, after all, she had been into various hazings during her career, including downing a whole bottle of honey which she couldn’t even finish, only eating one fourth of it before becoming nauseous. 

She stopped in the middle of the hall, wondering where the costume room could be. It couldn’t be on the top floor, that was usually where the bars and common rooms were so if the building followed regular construction protocols for opera houses, it was probably on the underground section of the house where the dressing rooms used to be. Y/N ventured into the lift, pressing the lowest number on the number chart of the panel until she reached the underground floor. Y/N looked around, people running in and out yet no one stopped whenever she tried to question where the costume room was. She had managed to find the costume shop but no luck finding the costume room until she was pretty much pressed against a dark door with those exact words by the passing crowd. 

She twisted the knob of the costume room door, tumbling onto the dark room as a result. The room was filled to the brim with costumes on each side of the room, a plexiglass divider between the two sides which stopped every meter or so and also appeared to be divided onto female and male costumes with the ensemble costumes at the back. She padded across the concrete floors, looking through dresses and accessories for ribbons but no successful attempt. The ruffling from the other side of the room had her turning around, forehead furrowed as she walked towards the plexiglass divider. 

     - Hello? - she questioned, wondering if there was someone in this room who could help her find silk ribbons. Great, she had barely joined the company and was already screwing up. Great, Y/N. Way to go, Y/N. 

She saw someone all dressed in black just like the women before, yet there seemed to be something which didn’t match up; black jeans, black shirt and black leathe jacket as well as a pair of also black boots, scruffed and probably entirely too old to still be holding up together. Her eyes caught his which despite the low almost non existent light of the costume room, were light, a sort of greyish blue like the calm sea before of storm. His gaze pulled hers in, like gravity and she couldn’t help but clutch the jacket next to her as a bad feeling along with something she’d never felt before settled in her stomach. 

His hair was mostly pushed back yet the ones which framed his face fell like dominos. She moved along the side where she was to one of the plexiglass gaps and he did the same still maintaining eye contact with her, until the two reached the gap. She didn’t notice she was holding her breathe in until she breathed out.

    - Hi. - her own hand gripped her wrist, shoe grinding against the floors. - Uhm, I’m new here and this lady sent me down to find some silk ribbons but I can’t find any. Do you ...

    - I... uh ... I don’t know where they are. - he faltered for a few seconds before regaining his posture.

    - Oh, I thought since you were here, you might be one of the stage managers. 

    - I’m not. - his tone was monotonous, almost as if he had the answer to her question before she even made it. 

    - Oh ... - she rubbed her neck. - Are you also looking for silk ribbons?

    - I’m looking for the dressing rooms, actually.

    - They’re down the hall. -  she pointed at the door as if it was the “down the hall”. - Hum ... Are you new here too?

    - Yeah. Thanks. - he walked towards the door, opening it and stepping out before catching her gaze once again. 

Y/N remained in the middle of the room as if she were in a transe and maybe she was. It felt like she was falling yet she was firm on her feet and she did not like that feeling. She did not like that feeling of falling, it wasn’t feeling, it was hopeless falling and she wondered why looking at a man who looked like an 80′s glam rock reject made her feel like that, so lost. Maybe it was the respect he appeared to command by merely looking at her or maybe it was the nerves about being new and not being able to find some goddamn silk ribbons. Damn it. 

    - Call for 30 minutes before dress rehearsal. - the voice came from the intercom and immediately her mind dropped the idea of finding silk ribbons and moved to finding the ensemble dressing room and get dressed and ready. Damn it, this was going well. 

She rushed down the hall, bag almost slipping off her shoulder until she saw the door with the ensemble plaque on it. The young woman peaked inside the room where pretty much everyone with a role on the ensemble were already sat down. She shyly walked in the middle row until she found her own little corner, her name written on a sticker on the mirror along with photos of how the makeup should be done as well as how to get the costume in correctly. The same goofy smile returned as she sat down and saw her name above her. It was fine, she was here, she was part of a company.

    - Hey you’re new. - the girl next to her twirled her chair to face her. She already had her makeup on and hair pinned curled up and ready to put a wig cap on. - I’m Elliot but people call me Elle.

    - Y/N, I’m the new chorus girl. First day. 

    - Aw, welcome. - she had a bright smile, inviting and almost as exciting as the whole experience of being there. - Do you want help pincurling your hair? I can get it done while you do your makeup. 

    - Yes, please. - she pulled out a big box from her bag which had all her makeup and pins. 

Elle started pin curling her hair up while she put an inappropriate amount of blush on which was just appropriate to get on stage under the bright yellow lights. Turns out half the practice for opera is learning to do your makeup under bright yellow lights and then learning to sing. 10 minutes to rehearsal start, she was along with Elle going down and up to the main stage where most dancers were warming up. Elle left her to do so, leaving Y/N once again to just stand there, looking around like a little sheep in the middle of wolves. 

    - I’ve never seen you around. - her shoulders almost went up as he turned to see one of the principal sopranos, if not the principal soprano. She had seen all of her shows ever since she was a teenager and she had even wrote an essay for university on her for a module. Catherine Vargas, the best New York could offer, if not the best the world could offer. - I didn’t know they were still casting dancers.

    - Oh, I’m a chorus girl, Mrs Vargas. 

    - A chorus girl? - she furrowed her brows at her, looking her up and down. - What type?

    - The type who ... is in the back with the ensemble. - her voice lowered at least a few volumes down, back curved as if she were bowing. 

    - I know what chorus girls do. I asked what vocal type. 

    - Lyric soprano, m’am.

    - A lyric soprano in the chorus. Interesting. Where did you train?

    - Julliard, m’am.

    - Julliard? - she looked her up and down again. - That is a great school. What is a Julliard graduate doing in the chorus line?

    - Everyone starts somewhere. - she laughed nervously, scratching her arm as she did so.

    - Not a lyric soprano from Julliard. Composers sure do love an ingenue, don’t they? Don’t worry, a few months with me and you’ll be supporting. 

    - That’s ... that’s really kind, Mrs. Vargas. Thank you.

    - Don’t thank me. Could you get me some honey from my dressing room? I’m feeling a bit strained. 

    - It’s 5 minutes until rehearsal starts.

    - It’s okay, chorus normally doesn’t do much during rehearsal. Can you get it?

    - Yeah, I think so.

She straightened her crinkled skirt, looking behind her back before going down the stairs which led down to the dressing rooms. This was good, right? Getting into one of the main star’s good graces besides she was right, the chorus didn’t really get much attention during rehearsals, at least not as much as the main characters. It’s easier to get away with screwing up in the back than in the front, her teacher would tell her which would always earn a few laughs from her colleagues. Yet, Y/N hated to make any mistakes. She would stay up all night in front of a cheap piano she had bought from a charity shop, playing and singing the same 5 note progression until her flatmate yelled at her to shut up. For her, if it wasn’t perfect and if she didn’t get any criticism while performing it, she hadn’t done it right. It didn’t matter at the end of the day but what did matter was to climb up the ladder. She didn’t want to be a star, all she wanted was to be able to be on that stage forever with the spotlight shining on her and she knew there was only one way to climb up. Actually there were two, extreme luck and connections. Now, she didn’t have the best of luck so her major choice was to make connections and reach that status. 

She made her way into the principal dressing room. It was probably one of the biggest she had ever seen, with expensive decor and various flowers covering it. She wondered how many flowers she received on opening nights if that was the number she had on regular days. Y/N made her way to the desk, opening drawers and more drawers to find honey until she found it on the lowest drawn. She went down on her knees to grab it, mindless and careless to everything that was happening until she felt a sharp pain on the side of her her.

Then everything went dark. 

TAGLIST: @lookiamtrying @buckyswillows @blossomslibrary @juliesland @iloveshawnieboi @unmagically​ 

[oh-my-damn]

Oh boy I logged in at the right time LOL. This is in response to the new ick ask, so if anyone wants to scroll who disagrees haha. I agreed with number 5 on that list as well. They made good connections on the other ones but 5 ties directly to my issues with older men dating so young.

Men who say things like they want a woman who knows how to apologize or doesn’t push back? I’m in my mid twenties and while I have been in relationships, just because of how the passage of time works, I don’t have as much insight into them as a woman in her 30s or 40s would. I go to my older cousins and mentors for advice all the time. To see older men with women my age is gross because no matter what there’s a power dynamic and with that comes the risk of being able to manipulate someone easier. I said what I said 🤷‍♀️

So yeah, I’m over Chris. There’s a reason I was never a Leonardo DiCaprio stan or something. Shit like this is a character/morals thing for me.

Once again, my opinions under the cut. If you read it and get offended or upset, that's on you. Don't hurt your own feelings lol

I absolutely agree.

It's something you won't understand if you've never been in a situation like that. All men can be manipulative, but there's something just a little more special about an older man dating a younger woman.

She can be smart, deep, mature (for her age! that's the key point bc thats what everyone always say).

Fact of the matter is that people change as they get older. They learn organically. They gain experience. It doesn't matter how mature you seem for your age, you will always lack experience compared to someone in their 40's.

Women in their (especially early) twenties are also usually in a situation where they're trying to define themselves in relationships. They won't know the pitfalls or red flags to look out for bc they haven't experienced them. Even if we think we have a handle on it, there will always be more to learn. And I think it's worrying that someone above 40 can "identify" with someone who's in their 20's. Cool dude, but you shouldn't be. It's a red flag that you do. A MAJOR one.

Now, Chris definitely fits into that box. He's never had a successful long term relationship. All of his exes have moved on pretty beautifully (most even got married/had kids RIGHT AFTER they got out of the relationship. Clearly they wanted it, just not with him.) I think it says a lot that he can't make it work with people within his age group and has now gone searching for younger girls. I always thought the rumors about him hooking up with 20 year old interns in DC was just that - a rumor. But now I'm not so sure anymore.

I'm done trying to defend him on anything. I feel bad for Alba if it really is a situation where he's controlling or manipulative. I'm not saying he is - I'm saying it fits the pattern (also the videos from the pap walk are also kinda alluding to that, ngl)

If they're happy that's great. But a lot about this situation seems fishy. It's not a coincidence they've been ramping it up ever since the WN trailer came out and its DEFINITELY not a coincidence they were "papped" the same day season 2 came out. It's also not a coincidence that the person who "randomly papped them" is the same guy as the one who took the pictures of him and Lily James in 2020 (who, btw, usually works exclusively in London and LA. lol) There was also someone on tumblr who revealed days in advance that a pap walk had been booked for Chris in NY. So they're definitely using it for PR - the question is just how deep it goes.

Either way, it's a shame it had to overshadow the entire SMA thing. That's honestly too bad. We'll see what happens. But I can't lie about my feelings. Idk when my muse will come back, all I know is that seeing his face rn makes me make this face

[dragon-of-dreams]

A Debt to pay

My Masterlist

Pairing: dark!mafia!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: noncon; breading kink; threats, murder, readers parents are dead, reader getting hit across the face, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Seariously, this is some really dark shit with some astonishingly soft sx... No idea how that happened... 18+!!!

No mentions of y/n, and reader is kinda an off because she has a back-story but no physical descriptors are used.

Summary: Your dad dies unexpectedly and you take over running the family cafè. The costs for your daddy’s funeral bring the head of the Barnes family to your doorstep as you struggle to keep up with the payments for a loan you had no idea your dad had taken out with them. You get “offered” an alternative method of payment.

a/n: this was a request by the lovely @oneoftheprettynerds

I hope I did it justice! Thank you for being the most patient person in the world, when Covid, life, exams, life and so on and so forth got in the way of your wish!

Prompt: Can I please get a dark mafia bucky or peter with noncon and breeding kink? With a side of people hitting on reader

 Wordcount: 2,800

 In all seriousness, you had to consider yourself lucky. Most people in this small city had it worse than you. Most didn’t have their own business, certainly not at your age, and most would never have enough money to even dream about that. Your town had the habit of sucking money out of people faster than they could make it and as of late that was also the case for you.

           After your dad had died unexpectedly in a car crash, money had been tight, really tight. You’d never known how fucking expensive funerals were and his drained all the savings you had, just before you’d managed to scrambled together enough for a community college education in business. Now you were left an orphan in your early twenties running a café on only the knowledge you’d learnt from your dad with no prospects of an education. Now you were as stuck as everybody else in town.

           What made matters even worse was the bill you’d gotten two weeks after the funeral. A bill from the one company in town nobody wanted one from. Rich men running successful businesses on the backs of the honest town’s people by draining their money. The mafia. Sharks in suits.

           According to the bill your dad had borrowed money from them 10 years ago. Your best guess was that he had needed it for your mother’s funeral and had never told you. Be that how it may, you didn’t know how to pay that bill. So you asked for time and put in extra hours, keeping the café open til late at night.

           You hated the extra hours. Not only because you got less sleep and had to work so much more and couldn’t afford to hire more employees but also because the later it got the more aggressively people hit on you.

           You hated them. All those men coming in once the sun set, calling you their sweetheart like you were property and grabbing at you and you having to smile and flirt because you needed their tips. Desperately. And yet it seemed to make no difference. There was just no money to be made in this town.

           Bucky Barnes, the head of the Romanov family had given you two months to come up with the next payment, and you knew that you’d end up dead in a ditch with them ceasing your café if you didn’t make it.

           So you smiled and joked with the moms coming in in the mornings and afternoons and flirted and swayed for their husbands at night. When you were in your little apartment above the café after you finally closed you usually cried yourself to sleep. And all throughout the day you would see him. See Bucky fucking Barnes watching you. At first you thought you were imagining it, but he was driving past your café in way too regular intevals, and would even occasionally take up one of your tables. You always sent other staff to serve him, you couldn’t bare to go to him, but his cold blue eyes never left you.

           Over those two month it became abundantly clear that you would never manage to come up with $2,000. And when one of Bucky’s men came in on the Wednesday before the Friday the payment was due, you thought of the 1,200 bucks you’d managed and wanted to cry.

           You knew the man, you’d gone to school with his younger brother Peter who had been a royal pain in your ass, having provided a glimpse of the harassment by the men you now faced every evening. Still you smiled at him: “Steve, hi, what can I get you?” ignoring that you had already flipped your sign to closed and where moping the floors.

           “Hi y/n, a coffee would be great, if you still got some” Steve answered while inspecting your café like he already owned the place.

           “Sure thing!” You tried to sound chipper, but the strain in you voice was audible, as you went behind the counter and got the machine going.

“Sugar? Milk?” you asked, with your back turned to Steve, hoping to draw out the inevitable.

“Just sugar, thanks.” Steve sounded gruff and distant and you knew you’d lost. He probably already knew that you wouldn’t be able to pay. He had accompanied Bucky a bunch of times, never ordered anything, just watched and listened, as Bucky drank or ate. The men had attracted stares. Not only because they were mafia, but because for personified devils, they sure looked like gods.

As you set his coffee before him he asked: “So what can I tell my boss to expect on Friday?” You stared at Steve in his perfectly tailored suit in harsh contrast to the homey but ultimately grimy café surrounding him as you decided on what to say. He looked amazing, and you hated him for it.

Steve raised an eyebrow at you. He was getting impatient. “I… I have a little over half.” You muttered and looked down at your hands, twisted tightly together. “My daddy’s funeral cost so much money, and I” you were interrupted by Steve’s fist hitting the countertop, making you flinch. His rage was pouring out of him so suddenly, taking over everything else. He seethed: “Safe your excuses, little girl. Just make sure to get the money. Bucky isn’t as lenient as I am.” With that, Steve got up from the bar, drained his coffee in one long gulp and left without giving you the chance to beg. You would have. You would do anything now if it meant saving your life. ‘Lenient’, you thought. How was any of this lenient?

           On Friday morning, you didn’t want to get up, much less open the café, but you did both. You put a notice outside that you would close earlier tonight, so Barnes and his henchmen wouldn’t scare off your customers and then you went to work.

           The entire day felt like molasses. Time didn’t move at all, it left you fidgety and nervous. You screwed up more orders than you were willing to admit and then suddenly time jumped and it was 6 p.m. and the sun was setting and you’d closed the café down, pulled all curtains closed except for the front door and were sitting there, waiting. What for, you didn’t know.

           At 6:30 a black limousine came to a stop before your café and Barnes and Peter got out. Which you decided was a good sign. Surley if they were to kill you, they would’ve brought some muscle, not lanky Peter… Bucky Barnes wouldn’t get his hands dirty with you, would he? Or was that what Peter was for? Did he still have to prove himself in the company?

           As Bucky entered you wished it would just end now. To your sheer horror, Peter stayed outside, blocking the door, leaving you all alone with the man you feared most in this world. He looked just like everytime he’d previously entered your café. His suit fit perfectly and you could see the muscle beneath. He was astonishingly beautiful. If he only were so on the inside as well, you mused.

“Hi sweetheart,” Bucky drawled as he approached you, “Steve told me you don’t have my money.” You shrunk in on yourself, but nodded, as Bucky came to tower over you.

“That’s not good, angel, not at all. Why don’t you come out from behind the counter and we sit down and talk about it, huh?”

All you could do was nod. “What happened? Cat got your tongue?” Bucky teased as he grabbed you by the elbow and led you to a boot in the corner of the café, way out of view from the front door. His touch was startingly kind. You had prepared for pain, but were met with kind support. Your brow furrowed.

“I…” You looked up at him. “I g got $1,300. I know that’s not enough, but”

“Shh.” Bucky murmured and pushed you down onto the bench, took of his suit jacket, hung it carefully over a nearby chair and then caged you in by sitting at your side. You were trapped and you were shaking with fear.

Bucky was so much taller than you and even through his perfectly tailored black dressshirt you could see his muscles bulging. You couldn’t decide weather you wanted to start sobbing into his chest or punch him in the stomach. “Steve already told me all about that, angel, don’t worry, I already came up with a new payment plan.”

“You’re not mad?” you question, to terrified to be hopeful.

“Well, I am not thrilled, but I’ve always had a softspot for this place. My pa used to take me when I was little. I watched you grow up, you know?”

Hope bloomed like desert rose in your heart. He knew you! He had a connection to you! That surely meant he wouldn’t kill you. You’d figure out the money. Suddenly you were certain that you could do it.

“really? That’s – I never knew…” Your voice was fluttering with hope.

“Well, it’s a small town.” Bucky’s voice was calm and soothing. You almost forgot that you were squished between him and the wall.

“And with me seeing you grow up, and seeing all the other women in town I decided that you would give me an heir to take here. To watch people with, so he too could choose his wife. An heir for me and forgiveness for your debt and a happy home life for you.” Your world stopped spinning. It screeched to a halt.

“What? No, Bucky, I…” Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulled you close. The arm was tight across you back and stole your words from you as fear spread from every spot he touched throughout your entire body.

“You’re a hard worker, you have a drive for better and higher things. I like that. It’ll make you a diligant mother, you know angel? And that is what I need. A good mother to the boy who will inherit this town, don’t you agree?”

You sit there frozen, unable to reply. Your brain is going a thousand miles an hour trying to find a way, any way, to get away, but before you can do anything Bucky grabs your right hand and presses it to his crotch. He’s hard. The calm demeanour falls off him suddenly as he growls: “Here is how this will go, angel,” he starts to move your hand up and down his crotch, “I will let go of your hand and you will undo my pants and get me ready and then I will have that little pussy of yours on this table. I mean it ain’t romantic, but once you are my little wife I’ll make up for that, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, press your eyes closed and feel him move his hand over the fine cotton of his suit and his hard length underneath, then you force yourself to nod. It’s a jerking, hurtful motion, but Bucky released you hand, as he leans back on the bench, spreading his legs, opening himself up to you.

You want to thrash out, but instead you shaking hands wander to his belt. “Go on, now. we ain’t got all night, darling.” You are tearing up, but do as you’re told. You lean slightly over him and undo his belt first, then his pants. His cock strains against his boxer briefs and you gulp. Bucky lifts his hips and you push his pants and underwear down.

His cock is beautiful. Long and thick and veined and you can’t help but press your thighs together at the sight. Bucky notices and smirks down at you. “Now that’s a good girl. Keep it up and I make sure you enjoy yourself!” he whispers in your ear as he guides your hands to his dick.

As you jerk him, you realize that you underestimated his size. Your fucked. Literally. There is no way you’re gonna enjoy this. Bucky shoves his left hand up your skirt suddenly and you freeze until he clears his throat and startles you back into action, while his fingers start exloring your sex.

“You know,” Bucky explains, “I find it helps ladies to go down on a guy before actually fucking. Gets them nice and ready, you know?” One of his fingers slides into your tight chanel, “But with you it seems we don’t need that. The sight of my cock alone made you cream. I knew there was something special about you!” He grins and removes his hand. “We might still have to work on your handjob skills though…” he muses, grips your hand and removes it form his dick, as he gets up.

You shrink back but he pulls you out after him. Finally, blessedly, your panic response sets in any you try to struggle, but Bucky’s hold on your arm tightens painfully and his left hand hits you across the face before you even see it coming and it makes your world spin. “Stop it, now!” Bucky barks at you and you freeze. Your feeble attempts forgotten as Bucky lifts you onto the table and rips your panties off. You start sobbing as he bends your right leg to your shoulder and situates himself.

“Sssh,” he cooes at you softly, “I’ll make it better, baby, just one moment.” His suddenly warm voice lulls you into a false sense of security as you stare into his deep blue eyes. They are bewitching you, and you only feel him push in when it’s too late.

He sheethes himself in one agonizingly long stroke. The pain breaks you out of your reverie, you arch your back and groan. It hurts! It hurts so much, and yet you want more, so much more. “Bucky!” you plead, you sob, you whine and once more there it is, the calm voice of the devil now owning your life, rolling in like the tide washing over you, calming you. “I know my sweet pet, I know, just relax now. Just breathe.” And you do. You can’t help yourself.

Bucky lets out a pained moan as you settle around him, and once your clenched eyes flutter back open, once your back comes back down from its painful arch, the god above you starts to move. Every drag and push is better than the last. He hits home every time. His dick lights up a pathway to your pleasure, with every sharp, hard, relentlessy painful thrust, in time with his pubic hair grinding against your clit. A particularly hard thrust shifts his cock so it hits your cervix and you scream with pain and pleasure. Your arms reach up, your hands burying themselves in his thick hair as Bucky leans in closer to you, bending you in half on that table, and nuzzles at your neck as he starts to hammer into you. Every thrust is pure bliss. You want to feel ashamed, you want to push him away, but all you can feel is the drag and glide of his cock, his pelvis against your clit, his tip hitting your cervix. You are on fire and the coil in your core is ready to explode. The intensity of Bucky’s thrusts never wavers, even as you feel him swell even further as his balls draw up and that tiny change breaks you, your orgasm explodes and you cry out in ecstatic pleasure, just as Bucky falters and shoots his cum in thick long strokes into you. His warmth joing yours as he lazily pumps to stop within you.

You only come back to yourself as Bucky pulls out slowly and you can feel your combined, cooling spend trickle down your legs. He eases your leg back down and kisses you softly as you start crying. “Ssh, darling, you’re alright. You’re done. Your debt is paid and you’ll be my wife in no time, the mother to my heir. You did so good, angel!” He coos sweet nothing at you until you can control your crying enough to speak.

“Bucky, I’m not on anything! What if it really takes?” you whimper, emerging from the fantasy he built up in your head.

“That is rather the point!” He snaps harshly. The calm voice gone as quickly as it emerged. You shiver as you realize the extent of what he said before. He really meant it all… Bucky pulls up his pants. “Pack up your things, lovely, tomorrow I’ll pick you up and you are moving in with me, so I can keep an eye on you!” With that Bucky pulls on his suit jacket and heads for the door, as you struggle to sit up, shaking and crying.

At the door Bucky looks back at you, his voice a lot calmer again: “I’m real happy about our new business arrangement as it ensures you will be staying with me, little girl. If only your daddy would have agreed to let me have you, his car wouldn’t have had to end up wrapped around a tree so your little college fund would go away. Sleep tight now, Mama, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[chibimyumi]

Lizzie’s Campania Dinner Dress REDESIGNED

After having redesigned the Notorious Robin Dress of O!Ciel (click here), I thought I’d try my hands on another well-known dress; Lizzie’s dress on the Campania!

As explained in the post linked above, Yana seemed to not have an inkling of historical fashion knowledge at the beginning of the series. As the series became bigger however, she employed a Victorian Era expert and the results are clear.

In this post I will examine to what extent Lizzie’s dinner dress is accurate and break this costume down from the top, and propose how to “correct” these while trying to keep as much of the original design as untouched as possible.

I. Dinner Dress

Hair

Just like I said in the Robin Dress™ REDESIGN post, needless to say, 19th century people would not have worn twin tails. Wearing the hair down was considered ungroomed for women in the 19th century, but young, unmarried girls were allowed to spare a few hairpins.

Unlike O!Ciel who would always try to strive for a more mature look, Lizzie would aim for the opposite.

In the late Victorian era it was normal to have bangs, but it was proper to have it cut well above the eyebrows. So Lizzie’s bangs only need to be trimmed a bit to be period accurate.

The long dangling fringe of Lizzie’s is a tribute to her mother, but alas, that one does need to go... I do not dare fully risk the WRATH of Frances the Formidable however, so in honour to her, I have kept that bang as much as possible. The sides of the bangs were allowed to be longer in order to frame the face better, but the point remains that the face should not be covered.

(I know, I know, two symmetrical half-arsed fringes would have been better, but I promised to try change as little as possible...)

Victorians hardly ever cut their hair, because the longer the hair, the more feminine and desirable a girl/woman was deemed to be. The aesthetic of hair in 1880s was more in the vertical direction instead of horizontal. Hence Lizzie would probably have worn her curls a bit smaller, therewith using up less hair into the width.

The period wherein people strongly favoured a horizontal aesthetic was approximately 200 to 70 years outdated. If we had to justify what type of hair Lizzie’s hairdo was supposed to be historically, I could only say it is probably the 1670s early baroque hairdo. (I mean... that portrait IS fairly similar to Lizzie’s hair, is it not?)

The hair ornament Lizzie wears is not entirely impossible, just very unlikely for the 1880s. I have kept the weird rosette that she wears, and used them to pin up both sides of her hair. I could not find any visual sources of people wearing rosettes in their hair instead of their chest after earning some type of prize, but since there were no regulations regarding how a ribbon must be tied into a bow, the rosettes can stay.

Neckline and Bodice

The design of the original bodice also requires a bit of work. Just like with the Robin Dress, the main problem lies with the silhouette.

In the height of the Victorian Era, the main endeavour was waist reducing, hence the chest area would be accentuated and “streamlined” towards the shoulder, while the seams would detract from the waist optically.

Instead of the straight design of the chest panel, I replaced it with a fan-shaped front piece, of which the lines would achieve this ‘streamline’ effect.

The halterneck-like neckline as in the original design would have been quite unlikely as it would have made the neck stand out, and make the much thinner neck compete with the desired small waist. The rule of thumb for what aesthetic bodices should have was generally open wide top, closed small bottom (V shaped, not O). Usually when there is a halterneck-line, something else that would redirect the eyes towards the larger shoulder-chest area would adorn the bodice too for compensation.

Thus, instead of the rounded halterneck-line, I replaced it with a straight square neckline. Though square-necks were not very popular in Lizzie’s time, they were not unheard of. Miraculously I happened to stumble upon this illustration from 1889 (exactly Kuro’s present day setting), and herein we can see both the short lantern sleeves and the square neckline.

Decoration wise there is nothing inconsistent with 1889 fashion, but as Lizzie is the daughter to an influential Marquis and the dress is supposed to be a dinner dress, it should be a tad gaudier. The elaborateness of Lizzie’s original dress was more alike that of a daytime walking dress. I did not deviate too much from the original manga’s design, I simply added some gold details that were not there yet.

(The anime’s dress had been simplified for animation’s sake, so my redesign is based on the manga’s slightly more elaborate triple panel decoration.)

This choker ribbon necklace is the same as for the Robin Dress. Like I said before, these were worn by people in the 1880s, but they were not standard for fancy night time events. However, as it is technically not historically ‘inaccurate’, it can stay.

Waistline

Just like the Robin Dress, Lizzie’s waistline is the most historically inaccurate part that renders the entire design a period amalgamation.

First of all, I gave the waistline a pointed end and swagged the inner skirt up towards the hips for a dramatic V-shape. The bow-sash worn around the waist was something that was in fashion during the 1780s and 1790s, and was part of the ‘Chemise de la Reine’ look that was named for and popularized by Marie Antoinette.

Fashion trends do always come back every now and then, so a ribbon bow is not necessarily taboo. But the height at which the bow sits on the original dress would guide the waistline towards the hips, which would have gone against the small-waist aesthetics of 1880s, which would have been taboo.

Hence, I removed the sash entirely, and shoved the bow itself to the back (more on this below.)

Skirt

Again, the same problem Yana had with the Robin Dress; the bell-shaped silhouette that would be at least 30 years outdated by 1889, so I simply reduced its volume.

The split panel front however, was common in the 1880s, as such it remains untouched.

The dress code for formal events would require a floor-length hem for dresses, but a dinner party such as the one on the Campania would be semi-formal, and Lizzie who strives for a very youthful look would have been able to get away with a shorter hem. Hence, the skirt length also remains unchanged.

Bustle

“Does this dress make my butt look small?” would have been the question women asked. Late Victorian fashion just LOVED a huge behind, and the bustle was the absolute star of any feminine outfit.

The design of the ornaments on the original dress is actually spot on, except that it would simply lie flat over the skirt, rather than help the skirt get a large bulge.

So for the redesign, I have decided to use the golden bow that sat at the front to draw the attention towards the maximised behind. Underneath I used the original triple row tails, and flanked this decoration with large pleats to produce a dramatic back. For completion’s sake, I have added golden embroideries to the pleats so that the large golden bow will not just sit there as a random piece of ornament.

Shoes

I could find relatively few sources on late 1880s shoe fashion, so my caveat here.

Lizzie’s d’Orsay type of shoes were not standard in the 19th century England, but they were definitely not impossible. 1880s d’Orsay pumps were a bit more closed around the lateral arch, but the technique to make completely open d’Orsays was already available in the 1600s, and wildly popular after the 1830s. As I could not find any sources on when they stopped being popular, I think Lizzie’s shoes would probably have been acceptable.

What I do propose to change is the point of the toe. Only very, very young girls (up to age 4 ish) would wear a rounded nose. Slightly older children and adults would wear pointed toes instead.

The only other thing I propose to change is only a “problem” if I were to be perfectly pedantic and nitpicky; namely the arch of the shoe. Arches of the shoe until the 1910s were mostly straight, and did not have the same arch as our natural feet have. So in order to create the perfect 1889 shoe silhouette, I straightened Lizzie’s shoes too.

Y’all still with me? Good. Now comes the trickiest part, THE UNDERWEAR, a.k.a. Lizzie’s Battle Suit.

II. Battle Suit

Lizzie’s dinner dress was actually fairly historically accurate, earning a personal Chibimyumi rating of 6.6/10 in total (as opposed to Robin Dress’ miserable total rating of 4.1/10). Her Battle Suit however, scores less well, reaching only a 5.4/10.

Chemise

Victorian undergarments were nothing like our contemporary ones. If you have no breasts then it is easy, but if you do... well, a bra is bad enough, right?

Well.... In the Victorian times women wore layers on top of layers, of which the first was the chemise. Contrary to popular belief, people did not wear corsets directly on their skin. Corsets were very hard to wash, thus the chemise served to both protect the corset from getting dirty, as well as absorb the sweat.

Yana did do pretty good research as attested by her not having fallen for this popular misconception. Lizzie does indeed wear a type of chemise underneath her corset, though I would say that the sleeves are too elaborate for the dress she has chosen to wear on top.

Such elaborate sleeves were worn to be combined with smaller sleeves so that the lace can protrude from underneath, giving the entire outfit a little icing on top (like the lace at the chest). Lizzie’s dinner dress has lantern sleeves that would not reveal any of the chemise’s sleeves.

Chemises were washed quite regularly, but lace is a very expensive and delicate material. Hence, in order to minimise wear-and-tear, people would probably have avoided wearing ultra fancy chemises if it cannot be seen anyway. But who knows. Lizzie is a rich kid, she probably has enough lacy chemises at her disposal. Still, just to be perfectly historically accurate, I gave her chemise simpler sleeves.

Corset

Unlike the chemise, corsets were not regularly washed, and thus elaborate lace was very desired.

The large ruffles on the chest of Yana’s design however, are probably a tad too elaborate, and judging from the thickness, they could easily disrupt the smoothness of the outerwear.

1880s corsets were generally not very decorated as their function was valued over anything else. This corset I found dating from 1887 is the most elaborate authentic one I could find, and it indeed strongly resembles the one Lizzie wears. However, as even this one does not have lace protruding as much as Lizzie’s, I have toned the corset down too for the redesign.

In the 1880s, both corsets with and without front closure were worn. However, the pieces as elaborately decorated in the front would not have front closures. Hence I removed the hook and eye closure in the redesign.

The thing that is the least accurate about Lizzie’s corset is the boning structure. What produced a well-shaped waist was not how tight you lace the corset, but the structure of the boning. An unlaced corset of that time would have looked much ‘curvier’ than any tight-laced straight-boned corset.

By the late 1880s, boning techniques were so advanced that they were very soft and flexible, and yet also provided the firmness necessary for the desired look. The straight paneled type of boning drawn by Yana was outdated and strongly advised against.

Finally, the mini-skirt at the bottom of the corset is cute, but I have yet to find one like that in the 1880s. I don’t think that tiny piece of fabric would disrupt the desirable silhouette, but there will be PLENTY layers on top, so I removed it just to be sure.

Skirt

The skirt - or rather, everything that happened UNDER the skirt is a stack of complexities.

The most bottom layer would have been the underwear with trouser-legs, layer 1. Layer 2 is the protruding hem of the chemise, that may either have been long or short. But the chemise and the underwear are the only things that were worn UNDER the corset, hence the frilly-frilly skirt we see Lizzie fight in should have been the chemise, and not the underskirt.

The chemise was never something as wide as the one drawn by Yana, and could therefore not achieve that flare effect. I know it is absolutely gorgeous, and from an artistic point of view I myself would not have done otherwise. But as I am doing historical fashion research and redesign, I shall compromise myself and settle with a narrow skirt. The skirt would probably have been so narrow Lizzie would have trouble fighting. So it would not have surprised me if she decided to make a large split in it, or rolled it up and tucked it under her corset.

The frilly underskirt we see Lizzie wear should be layer 4 rather than 2. If we study Lizzie’s dress, we can see that the frilly part is a separate piece of clothing, unlike what the anime-art suggests.

Underneath this layer, there would have been a bustle (layer 3) that was strapped around the waist, over the corset. Like I explained before, bustles were essential to any Victorian dress. They came in many shapes and sizes, but I have settled with the simplest one.

Should we wish to keep the frilly skirt, then we need to keep in mind that Lizzie would have worn FOUR layers, which would hardly have made it any easier for her to navigate through the water than before. So why bother remove the dress and expose herself at all then? Hence, all layers from layer 2 on will sink with the Campania.

From our 21st century point of view, the Battle Suit looks quite cute, and we would probably just wear it like that. But if we consider down to what layer a real 1889 girl would have to have stripped, and how many somewhat embarrassing contraptions had to be removed first before reaching some level of mobility, we can probably understand how embarrassing it truly must have been.

Well, I had tons of fun doing this research, and I learned a great lot about what corsets really were (and not the inhumane torture devices they are claimed to be). I hope you all also had fun reading this too.  (*´▽｀*)ノ

【Related post: Ciel’s notorious Robin Dress™ REDESIGNED】

【Related post: Redesign: O!Ciel and Sebastian in different eras】

MASTERPOST My Art  

MASTERPOST Furukawa Era Kuromyu

MASTERPOST Gender in Kuroshitsuji

MASTERPOST Analyses & Info

[merakiaes]

The One For Me - Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Requested: By @nuvoleincielo​

Prompts: #16, #30 and #63 from the fluff-list. 

Warnings/notes: This is my first time writing for Hotch and Criminal Minds in general so please be patient while I get used to these new characters, might be slight OOC😭 It’s also the first piece I’ve written in a few months now and I’m a bit rusty, so please let me know what you think. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. Send in more requests for Hotch, Reid and Morgan and let me know if you want to be added to the Criminal Minds taglist! I hope you like it💕

Wordcount: 4118

Summary: Hotch has doubts about letting your relationship go further and you reassure him that he’s what you want. 

After being raised in one of New York’s worst, most crime ridden and low poverty neighborhoods by a family who was constantly targeted by the law enforcement, the last thing you’d expect was that you would become an active worker of said law enforcement.

Your mother died ten minutes after giving birth to you and your father had never been a part of the equation, most likely having ran the second he found out your mother had gotten pregnant. With no other immediate family, you ended up in the system, where you were stuck for the first seven years of your life.

You jumped back and forth between families of all kinds but for reasons unknown, no one wanted to keep you. It wasn’t until a couple adopted you two days before your eight birthday that you finally felt like you belonged.

They had many children of their own as well as more foster children, all between the ages of ten and twenty-five at the time of your adoption. On top of that, the children had children of their own and aunts, uncles, cousins and friends stayed with you more often than not as they struggled to hold on to homes of their own.

It wasn’t the most ideal way to live, a dozen people staying under the same roof of a two bedroom house, but you had dinner on the table every evening and the love for family was strong, so despite the conditions you lived in and the struggles you were forced to face on a daily basis, you guessed you couldn’t complain; you’d had it better than most.

The people who lived in those parts were always getting pinned for various kinds of crimes, just so the police could get it out of their hands and go on about their lives.

The male members of your family and the company they kept were some of the biggest targets even though they rarely did anything wrong, but despite the injustices they faced every day, they remained respectful when staring in the face of a cop.

You, on the other hand, despised them. You were an outspoken little girl, too feisty for your own good and on more occasions than one, you’d ended up pissing off some rich kid in school for which your dad and uncles were forced to pay the price.

You’d always hated the injustice the less fortunate suffered every day, but it wasn’t until you witnessed your first murder at fifteen that your interest of making the world a better place really piqued.

The victim had been one of the boys living in your neighborhood. He was two years older than you and he always gave it his all to make something out of himself. He walked with you and your younger brothers and cousins to school every day to make sure you got there safely, studied hard, kept out of trouble and always remained respectful.

The only reason he died was because his skin was the wrong color in the eyes of the law and because he was born into a less fortunate neighborhood, and it was then your eyes truly opened to the police brutality and misuse of power plaguing your country.

You joined the police force when you were nineteen years old and you stayed there, on top of your game and determined to do it better than the bad ones, until you were twenty-one. 

At that point, most of your family had passed away either out of old age, or simply from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and your determination to help people was stronger than ever.

But even you, the tough little firecracker as your uncles had always called you, could only tolerate so much.

After two years on the force, you got tired of being undermined by your male co-workers and set out to step up your game, taking up studies of criminology and psychology among several other subjects.

You studied your ass off and was just barely able to get by with the money you had saved up over the years, and at twenty-four, you finally had your degrees and clearance to begin working in higher places.

Starting off in New York, you stayed there for six months before you were transferred to Quantico, Virginia, where you were recruited by the one and only Jason Gideon who had heard word of your talent in the field.

You had worked with the team for little over a year now and Jason, who had always acted as a kind of mentor and father figure for you, was gone, having left only a letter for you and Spencer each.

Taking his place was Aaron Hotchner, a fellow agent to which you hadn’t paid much personal attention before the departure of Gideon. But things changed when he left, a lot of things.

Hotch was fresh out of his divorce, moodier than ever and in a really bad mental state. He stayed in his office until the late hours of the night, sometimes even the early hours of the next morning, barely slept and often forgot to eat if he wasn’t reminded by his team members.

Everyone urged him to take some time off, to go home and get some sleep and to take care of himself, and although he always told them that he would, he never followed through.

Up until then, you still hadn’t spoken much with him except for when you were working on a case. You were just an agent and he was just your boss, there was nothing else to it. But you couldn’t just sit by and watch as he neglected himself, so you followed your team-mates’ example and approached him.

He dismissed you at first, like he had done everyone else who had tried to offer him their support. But as time passed by, in some miraculous way, you made him laugh, and as you continued your attempts on offering him your ear to listen, he opened up to you, and you grew to become more than just colleagues.

Your first and only date had been on your initiative. You invited him to dinner at your house during your weekend off, to which he agreed.

You cooked together and although it started off as kind of awkward – more from his side than yours – you ended up kissing later that night after having had a bit too much to drink, and fell asleep together on your couch while you were flicking through your childhood photo albums.

The next morning, he was gone. You had always been an extremely light sleeper so you found it strange that he had managed to slip off without alerting you and also having managed to wrap you up in a blanket before he left.

He didn’t leave without a word though. A note was neatly placed on the coffee table in front of you, on which he explained that he needed to pick up Jack and that he didn’t want to wake you, finishing it off with a thank you for the night before.

That was the first and last time you spent time together, just the two of you, but it wasn’t like it was intentional.

You wanted to do it again, to continue exploring the budding romance between the two of you and to see where you could take it, and although you knew nothing of his feelings, he wanted the same thing.

But work got very stressful; stressful to the point where you could never find a moment to talk to each other if it wasn’t in the presence of the entire team. But the spark between you wasn’t gone.

It was still there in the way he would let his hand hover above the small of your back when you were walking side by side and step in front of you if you were ever in danger, and in the way you would always take a second to ask how he and Jack was doing, if they were eating enough and getting enough sleep, whenever you were heading somewhere; no matter if the team was with you.

It was there in the way he would always encourage you to go on the less dangerous tasks while he took the ones that were more life-threatening and in the way he would always smile, the slightest of smiles, whenever you were exchanging jokes or sarcastic remarks with Morgan, or messing around with poor, clueless Reid.

It was there, but it was unspoken. At least until now.

The case you had been working on for the past two days was that of Gilbert Stratton; a serial killer who had targeted young women, killed them, drained them of their blood, and then proceeded to hang the bodies up by their feet in trees all around the city.

You had caught him just in time to save the last kidnapped girl and you had originally been the one assigned to question him, but Hotch had stepped in last minute after the man had made a crude comment about how ‘girls like you always tasted the best’.

You had attempted to tell him that you could take it, but before you had even been given a chance to state your case, he had shut the door in your face and you had been whisked off by JJ.

You were the one out of the entire team who was the most interested in the psychology of a serial killer so you really wanted to be the one to interview Stratton, but you knew that Hotch had taken over for the sake of your safety and not because he underestimated you, so you couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad.

While he did his job, you settled at your desk with a sigh, getting to work on the heft stack of paperwork that had been building up throughout the week. 

The first ten minutes you kept close track of the clock next to you, wondering why it was taking so long, but the more time that passed, the more focused you became.

Soon enough, you only had a few reports left and you had completely lost track of time, when there was a sudden bang behind you, sounding an awful lot like a door slamming shut.

And your suspicions were proven correct, when you looked up to see Hotch march straight the bullpen.

The corners of your lips tugged up at the sight of him, but the arising smile quickly fell again when he walked right past you, without even an acknowledging glance, heading into his office and shutting himself inside without as much of a word to anyone.

Left behind with dumbstruck looks on their faces were the team, glances of bewilderment being exchanged.

“What happened?” Reid asked the question you were all thinking after a moment of silence, just as Emily walked in from the interrogation room.

Rather than answering Reid’s question, she looked right at you, offering you a small, comforting smile. “I think you better go talk to him.” She said simply, and as confusion and anxiety bubbled up inside of you, you slowly drawled.

“Okaaay…”

They all watched you as you stood up from your seat, brushing down your shirt and turning off the lamp at your desk before heading for the stairs.

You could feel their eyes following your every move and you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous of what you were about to walk into.

Everyone had gotten negatively affected by a case or unsub at some point during their career, most more than once. They were all very good at getting into your head, no matter how little you wanted to admit it. But you had never seen Hotch react this strongly to anything before. The only time you had really seen him snap was during one single case, right after Haley had filed for a divorce.

Still, you kept walking until you reached his closed office door, stopping only then to peek inside the blinded windows to see him sitting at his desk, hands rubbing over his face.

You knocked on the glass gently and in any other case he would have looked up and meet your gaze, but when his head kept hanging this time, you let yourself in, only when closing the door behind you cutting off the curious eyes of the others.

Once you were inside, you wasted no time in approaching Hotch where he sat by his desk, analyzing his every move which led you to only one question.

What the hell had Stratton said to him to make him this distraught?

He didn’t even look up as you reached him, keeping his eyes closed as you came to a stop beside his desk.

Treading carefully, you reached out and gently put your hand on his shoulder.

“What happened?” You asked softly, the sound of your words instantly bringing a long, heavy sigh out of his nose.

“Why are you doing this?” He wasted no time in replying, causing a crease to form between your eyebrows.

“What?” You asked back, confusion lacing your voice.

Finally, he brought his hands down from his face and slowly spun around in his chair, forcing you to drop your hand from his shoulder and to take a step back.

He stared up at you, face wiped free of emotion as always. But the eyes said it all.

“Why are you so adamant on being with me? Why do you try so hard?” He questioned you, taking you by surprise.

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes grew slightly wider, and you took a moment to regain your composure after the, to say the least, unexpected question.  

“What kind of question is that?” You asked once you finally regained your senses. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you want to be with someone? Try?”

One of your eyebrows sank again, leaving only one raised in question.

Hotch’s face softened slightly and for a moment, he averted his eyes, letting out another, smaller sigh from his nose before looking back up to meet your eyes once again.

“What I mean is, why do you want to be with me?” He asked again, clarifying and slightly shaking his head in what seemed to be disbelief. “The second you walked into this office, both Morgan and Reid had their eyes on you, and they still do. They’re closer to your age, they’re energetic, humorous, full of life, while I’m ten years your senior, and can’t offer you what they can. So why do you want to be with me, when you can have them, or anyone you want?”

“What is it that they can give me that you can’t?” You didn’t waste a second in firing back.

You had no idea what had brought this on, but it was clear that it was bothering him and quite frankly, you found it ridiculous even though you didn’t like making it a habit to judge other people for what they were feeling.

“They can make you smile-“ He started explaining, and you instantly cut him off.

“You make me smile, all the time.” You shook your head, but your affirmation only seemed to fuel his frustrations even more as he was up on his feet within the next second.

“But I’m not- I’m not fun.” He stated, staring you down. “My clock is ticking. I’m ill-tempered, irritable, too serious for my own good. I’m barely capable of taking care of myself at this point much less my son. I’m miserable and I’m a bully, who only cares about this job. Why would you want to be with someone like that?”

“Where is this coming from? I thought we had something good going.” Your face fell slightly, and you carefully reached your hands out to grab a hold of the front of his suit, taking a small step closer.

“Is this because of Stratton? Is he the one putting these doubts into your head?” You asked, keeping your eyes on your hands for a short moment before looking up to meet his heavy gaze staring down at you.

And once your eyes met his, he knew there was no point in lying; you were a profiler after all, and a good one at that.

“He did.” He confessed calmly, his lips pursing into a straight line.

“Aaron…” You began, the softness of your voice matching the one in your eyes.

“But everything he said is true.” He quietly interrupted you. “I’m not fun to be around, I push people away. That’s what I do, what I’ve always done.” His eyebrows rose and he stood still.

You knew about the doubts he had about himself. You know he felt inadequate as a friend, as a colleague, as a father, and more than anything as a partner after the way Haley had left him. You were aware of all of it, and yet the sound of those self-doubts being voiced aloud saddened you nonetheless.

Silence fell over the two of you for a moment as you took another step closer, flattening your palms out on his chest and your eyes never leaving his.

“Those people didn’t deserve you in the first place. They knew what they were getting themselves into when they started building a relationship with you, whether it be a romantical or purely platonic one. They knew how passionate you are about your job, how much you value it. Them leaving… That’s on them, not you.” You said softly, shaking your head. “I’m not about to give up on you, on us, just because you happen to be a few years older than me. Derek, he wants to have fun, to be young. He may be attracted to me but he doesn’t want anything serious. Spencer isn’t ready for a relationship either, for obvious reasons, and either way, they’re not the ones I want.”

He watched you intensely as you spoke, lips still tight and strained. “What is it that you want?” He asked you, and you wasted no time in replying.

“Something serious and stable, someone who’s ready to settle down, and for me, the best chance to get that is through you.” You smiled, breaking your eyes away from his to follow your hand as you moved it up to his face. “Regardless of what other people say, you’re an amazing person. You’re passionate, driven, kind, loyal, gentle, and so much more. Despite what you may think, you do have a sense of humor and you’re the only one who can make me smile until my cheeks hurt. If that’s not a good man, a good person, then I don’t know what is. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

By the time you finished, the remaining doubt was wiped free from his face, a small, gentle smile instead having taken its place.

It was a funny thing, Hotch only ever spared the tiniest of smiles, and yet it was them that brought you the biggest and most intense amount of happiness. It was so rare to see his ever-stoic features reflect joy that you couldn’t help but light up like a kid on Christmas every time it occurred.

And true to what you’d always been told growing up, your smile was just so contagious that he couldn’t help but to smile wider at the sight.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and visibly relaxed where he stood.

Your heart swelled in your chest when you took note of the way he was slowly but surely shuffling closer to you, picking up a significant amount of speed when you then felt his hand brush against the side of your hip.

But he didn’t dare touch you, hesitation still lingering in the air. So you did what your heart told you and grabbed a hold of his hand, and pushed it down into the curve of your waist.

From then on, he moved on his own, raising his other hand to mimic the same position at your other side, and you let your hand drop from his, instead raising them to busy with his crimson red tie.

“I know you’re struggling, with yourself, with Jack, and that you’re still processing the divorce. And if it’s time you want, then I’ll wait.” You spoke quietly, feeling your skin flush hot under his touch as his thumbs began to move over the thin fabric of your shirt. “But if you want to keep going and see where this can go, then I’ll be here every step of the way to support and help you in any way I can. You just need to let me in.”

More shyly then before, you dared loo back up at him through your lashes, hands stilling on his chest.

His smile was gone and his eyes creased together in concentration, but his eyes were soft and his head slowly nodded. “You’re right.” He said, and you allowed yourself to smile again.

“Aren’t I always?” You lightheartedly teased, tilting your head to the side.

In return, a smile spread across his face, his head shaking. “Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, no take-backs. What’s said is said.” You kept joking, your smile only widening.

He kept smiling down at you for a few seconds longer, but then his face fell again, just like that, out of nowhere, completely sudden. The gaze he held on your face grew absent as he got lost in his thoughts, and before you could question him about the sudden change of mood, the words spilled from his lips as if there was no tomorrow.

“I think I love you.”

Your mind instantly broke into a flurry of thoughts, countless emotions battling in your body. Nervosity and excitement ended up coming out on top, the mixture of the two creating an uncomfortable, sickly feeling in your stomach.

Your face fell in disbelief and your eyes searched his as he came back to reality.

“You do?”

Your voice came out so quiet and small, you mentally cursed yourself for sounding so pathetic, but luckily, you didn’t get much time to beat yourself up over the anticlimactic reacting as he continued.

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same way, but I needed to say it. Every day, this job puts all of our lives in danger. I couldn’t bear it if one of us died before I got the time to let you know how I feel.”

You sucked in a breath, feeling yourself growing weak at the knees as he absentmindedly rubbed your waist with his thumbs.

“Just a minute ago, you were trying to end… whatever this is, and now your proclaiming your love for me?” You asked. 

It was meant to be a joke, an attempt to ease the anxiety you were currently feeling, but you realized quickly that said anxiety made it sound like the exact opposite of a lighthearted, teasing joke.

Luckily, the man standing in front of you was a profiler and knew that you meant no harm, understanding how shock could render your ability to react appropriately.

“I was never trying to end what we have. I just wanted to be sure that you were sure. That I won’t be holding you back.” He explained, and you finally managed to pull yourself out of the state of shock.

“Being with you motivates me. And I love you, too.” You confessed, the smile once again returning to your face as you moved your hands from his chest to wrap around the back of his neck. 

“I’m happy to hear that.” He smiled right back. “Can I kiss you?” He quietly added, and your face instantly lit up in a mischievous expression.

“In the office?” You gasped dramatically, bringing your arms down, taking a step back and lightly slapping his chest. “Aren’t you feeling frisky today?”

A large smile stretched across his lips, his chest shaking as he chuckled. “Come here.” He said simply, and before you got the chance to argue, not that you would’ve if given the opportunity, he sat back down in his chair and pulled you down with him. 

The chair spun in the process, causing you to let out a squeal of surprise. Your arms wrapped around his neck and your small laughs of glee quickly became muted as he placed his lips on yours, replaced by low hums of contentment. 

You clung to him as if your life depended on it, basking in the feeling of his lips moving against yours and his arms tightening around your waist, and as your entire body burned with passion, you realized that he really was the one for you.

Tagged: @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @zizzlekwum​ @cozytruecrimeaddict​ @lovelynervouskingdom​

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[idga-buck]

Some and Others, 1/?

Bucky wasn’t looking for a relationship, he was looking for a good night’s sleep, but when he found you he got more than he bargained for.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5,758

Content: swearing, soft smut (18+ only), Bucky being clueless, IW and EG just didn’t happen? idk, everyone’s alive and living in the compound #classic, also me fitting in a bunch of information that probably wasn’t necessary for the first chapter but what’s a story without a sturdy foundation?

After a mission, Bucky is some kind of way. Steve is too careful with him, but he doesn’t exactly blame the captain. Plus as an uncommissioned officer, 70 years without promotion, who is he to disagree. Maybe he isn’t ready for a life of avenging. Certainly isn’t ready for the questions that will follow another sleepless night, so Bucky didn’t stay in. He went out.

His memory wasn’t what it used to be, but Bucky recognized your street the second he’d stepped onto it. He’d parked his bike in the grassy alley on his right, gotten coffee at the Caribbean supermarket across the street when he finally left that afternoon. Technology wasn’t his strong suit, despite his depth of interest in it. There was etiquette and a way to do things that were as nuanced as they were mysterious. Bucky often wondered if people just lived by their own set of rules, leaving everyone else in the dark and only interacting with the persistent few who engaged correctly. He didn’t have the patience for that sort of thing. Shuri reminded him of that more than he cared for, but in terms of debts owed, he could smile through her jokes for a lifetime after the second chance she’d given him.

Bucky Barnes was a ladies man… at some point in his life, but more accurately, his life had been colored with women stronger than him since the day he was born. His mother was the first to hold him, followed shortly after by the older sister who tried to sell him to the milkman. Luckily Mr. Spenser wasn't in the market for a throw away babe and Bucky got to grow up in a house dominated by women. His sister, his mother, his grandmother with the accent that was just gibberish outside of their living room, the two more sisters that were welcomed in after him, though he’d never dream of bartering them away for bubble gum. They were all loud, but kind and could always bring a smile to his face. Even still. Rebecca, the most distant in age, but the closest in spirit, was still living. His baby sister was all grown up to the point of growing back down, shrinking in on herself the way old women do. Bucky made regular trips to the Alzheimer’s care center, sitting with her and loving her as only a brother could. Though her recollection of recent history was gone, Rebecca Barnes could still pinpoint the exact moment that all her girlfriends fell in love with her brother, which made Bucky shake his head and laugh. Her CNAs were worried for her mind when Rebecca introduced them to her big brother, looking closer to a man in his 30s than a man from the 30s, but he assured them that she was correct. He hadn’t changed a bit, she told him with two wrinkled hands on his cheeks. In appearance, not as much as he should have, but in all the other ways people usually mean, Bucky couldn’t feel more disconnected from the man he was when Rebecca was all bright eyes and secret kisses under the corner store awning. Bucky had no problem leveling those boys with a stare back then, but now most of them wouldn’t think twice before using their canes as a switch across his shins just for cocking an eyebrow in their direction. Talking to his mother wasn’t possible anymore and his sister wasn’t in a state to give out girl advice. Shuri was on another continent. Natasha… was Natasha and he would never ask for her help with something like this. Wanda was usually awake late at night when he was, but she was still so young.

Bucky looked up from the street, noting your second floor windows were dimly lit. Golden squares stood out against the bricks, blackened by the late hour, and through the gauzy curtains he spotted movement. Without his mother to advise against it or Shuri to give him something better to do, Bucky reached for his phone and scrolled through the recent calls. You’d called yourself before he left, but thinking that he wouldn’t see you again, Bucky hadn’t actually saved the number. Something of a bad habit, he noted, scrolling through lines and lines of unrecognized and unsaved phone numbers, hoping he’d just know it when he saw it. He didn’t.

Until one appeared on its own, presenting him a choice. Answer or reject. A simple question with unknown consequences. Rejecting the call seemed safer, so Bucky pressed the red circle and resumed his search.

“Weren’t you a spy or something?” Your voice drew Bucky’s eyes up from his phone screen to the now open window above his head. You were leaning out a bit, the posture helping your voice to carry over the surprisingly still busy street.

“Somethin’,” he grinned, pocketing the useless device. Both hands secured in his jacket, Bucky tipped back on his heels to get a better look at you. “Gonna invite me up?”

You shrugged and planted your palms against the window sill to lift yourself up. Even from that angle, Bucky was transfixed by your cleavage. Subtle under the tank top you wore, but he remembered it fondly. As if you could hear his thoughts, your arms snapped closed over your chest, bringing the colorful wings of a kimono with them, shielding yourself with floral patterns and defensive body language that made him take a step backwards. “You didn’t call…” you said and though accurate, your accusation made Bucky regret what he was about to do. After waking from the best night’s sleep of his life, he said he’d call you. No amount of self love could bring that much refreshment into his life and the feeling of waking up after a deep and dreamless sleep was enticing enough. The sex was good for a one off sort of thing, Bucky would even say great, but the sleep that came after… he hadn’t been able to replicate it yet. The lure of a good night's sleep and the softness of your body against all of his rough edges were too strong to stop him now. He was committed to this indiscretion, but before he could defend himself, you’d moved on, already smiling again. “And you just ignored my call.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed and lifted in quick succession before he pulled the phone from his pocket again. Saved. And for good measure, he pulled it up to his ear again. You frowned, turning away from the window, presumably to look for your phone. The glass slid shut behind you and Bucky bounced on the balls of his feet while he waited for the metallic purr in his ear to be replaced by something even better.

“What are you doing?” You said over the line.

“Hey, it’s Bucky-“ he heard you stifle your own laughter with a choked ‘oh my god’ in the background. “Remember me?” You hummed and Bucky waited with his eyes on your window. When you didn’t return, he kept talking. “I know it’s late, but I was just in the neighborhood-“ another quiet giggle made him smile as he spoke. “You up?”

“Is this Bucky Barnes’ first booty call?” You asked.

“I guess it is…” he said, half his mouth curving up even though you couldn’t see it. “How’m I doin’ so far?” There was a pause and Bucky started moving toward your door on instinct. It was illogical to think something had happened in those few seconds, but after the day he’d had Bucky didn’t feel confident ruling it out. “Making me nervous out here, doll.”

“You’re doing just fine,” you assured him and Bucky leaned back against the door in relief. “I was about to go to bed… but since you came all this way-“ the end of your sentence was cut off by the loud buzzing in his ear as the lock on the door disengaged from above. Bucky stepped into the first hall, street lamp making the small row of Golden mailbox fronts glitter, and leisurely took the first few steps up. “Better hurry,” you sighed and Bucky stopped, foot hovering over the next step. “Door’s unlocked and I’m already naked.” Bucky was in your apartment and snapping all three locks into their closed position before you’d had the chance to hang up from his impromptu phone call.

You fucked him slowly that night. The rush he felt taking your stairs two at a time dissipated once he was in your bedroom. It wasn’t as frantic or fumbling as it had been the first time and Bucky was happy for the change. When he’d followed you home from the bar, it seemed that both of you had an understanding. One night only, so make it count. It was hard and fast, but so so good. Even the next morning’s repeat and the finale in your shower before he finally pulled away sated had been more like back to back sprints than whatever this gentle marathon was. As if you could feel the stress that Bucky needed to let go of, you moved carefully around him. Totally bare in the bluish glow of the bathroom plug in that lit the scene before him, you took your time undressing Bucky and placing his hands back at his sides whenever he tried to help move things along. When you dropped to your knees, leaving him open and vulnerable standing naked in the middle of your bedroom, he made a sort of wounded noise that made him want to bolt, but didn’t seem to bother you. If anything it spurred you on, drawing more whispers from his rosebud lips until he couldn’t take it anymore. For the first time in his life, Bucky begged for more attention. Not the teasing he did on street corners- come on, baby, you’re breaking my heart here- when a dame tried extra hard to resist his charm. This was real pleading as if he thought he’d die frozen in place without your heat to revive him.

He’d made the right choice. Bucky decided while lying across your bed, one hand twisted up in your pillow case while the other was splayed across your bare thigh, that he’d done the right thing coming to you for this. He could have gone back to that bar or a different one and gone home with another girl just like he had with you, but then he’d be missing the view from under you. Having a new girl everytime Bucky found himself feeling restless sounded exhausting. He’d also determined that his mother would be incredibly disappointed in him if he had rows and rows of unsaved phone numbers from girls that didn’t know they were being used. Finally and maybe most importantly in that moment, Bucky didn’t want to start over with someone brand new. He liked your crumpled linen sheets, liked the smell of ink from the printing studio beneath your apartment. While you rode him to mutual satisfaction, he liked the way your hips rolled sensually over his, liked the slick grind and the dull bite of your nails against his stomach. He liked that after your first, when he asked you to slow down again and extended his hands to you, you took each of them without hesitation. Supporting your weight on outstretched arms, Bucky got to enjoy your hands in his while you gasped out a second. If it had been your first time sleeping together, you’d probably be too prideful or embarrassed to admit that you were tired. He wouldn’t have gotten to hear that whine when you asked if he was close and he replied -smugly- not at all. If it had been your first time together, he’d probably be too prideful or embarrassed to ask you how you wanted him. He wouldn’t know how sweet it felt to have your back pressed up against his chest and he wouldn’t have known to turn you onto your side so he could slip in from behind you. Bucky was so comfortable in your bed with your knee hitched up over his hip, body totally open to his roaming hands. He made the right choice coming back to you and as he finished with a grunt, both arms wrapped around you tight while your arm was bent over his head, gripping his hair with the perfect amount of tension, he’d already decided to make it again.

The next morning, Bucky was refreshed, feeling like a brand new man. That was the feeling he’d been chasing last night or rather very early that morning, but the tightening in his lower body followed by ultimate release was a fine way to get there. Just like last time, he’d woken up alone only to find you in the bathroom, washing sleep from your eyes and fixing your face. His enhanced hearing meant he could listen to the tap running and the echoing “puh” of you spitting into the sink without having to open his eyes. Comfortable and naked against your pillows letting the familiar sounds tell the story of your morning routine. He didn’t mind waiting as long as you crawled back in beside him like last time. Bucky only peeked twice before he heard the zipper of your makeup bag close and the magnet on your medicine cabinet snap shut behind the mirror. You were back with him in a moment and he turned toward your scent, aloe fresh deodorant and sharp minty breath beckoned him closer and he hummed against your lips. If he cared to move, he’d swallow down the remainder of your mouthwash then swap cool kisses until his tongue tingled against yours, but he was so comfortable. Even more so once you’d laid across his chest, bumping your nose and chin against his until he opened his eyes. Bucky dropped his arms heavily across your back, keeping you planted against him, though you hadn’t struggled or made any moves to leave him. He couldn’t have that with someone new. If he swapped your number for someone else’s, he’d have to flirt and wade through the post sex awkwardness again. He’d have to go out more and hope his charm would work on another. He’d have to perform for them the way he had for you the first two times. The third, in your shower, was messy and wet and fun despite the soap in his eyes, which you wiped away for him while his hands were occupied by holding you up. He wouldn’t have that with someone new until he made it happen and frankly he didn’t want to make it happen. Not yet. Not when you were still cute and still into him and still happy to hear from him even at 2 in the morning when he looked like a creep under your window. Why trade all that just to say he could have another then another? Sex was good. That morning stuff was good too. If it was the orgasm that made him feel alive again, then the warmth of your bed and your lips drifting lazily down his chest was what made life worth living. One gal was enough for him. You were enough.

Bucky hadn’t even noticed that he was drifting off again until you spoke. He didn’t hear you, but he sure it didn’t matter and responded with some ta sentiment of his own. “Thanks. For this.”

“Thank you,” you corrected and he smirked at that, eyes still blissfully closed. “Hey, uh— Bucky…” You sounded nervous and he had to force his eyes open at the sound of your voice shaking around his name. You must have noticed his sudden concern and placed a hand soothingly over his chest. “I just…” you bit your lip and Bucky watched the wheels churn behind downturned eyes. It was sweet, the way you could flip from bold and sexy to this. An errant curl fell out of its place and he felt the desire to pull that twisty rebel between two fingers before moving it back to follow the part you’d intended all the up to his second knuckle. Your hair was the kind he wanted to touch over and over. Not because it was your hair per se, but rather because it didn't have that acrid home perm smell or a hundred little pins holding it in place like his sisters and the other girls he ran around with. They spent hours on their waves and rolls, but you flipped a fist full to one side, fluffing it with your fingers when you wanted his attention and damn if it didn’t work everytime. Before he knew it, a vibranium finger against your temple, following the curve of your ear. Your stunned look made Bucky chuckle. He even patted your cheek in encouragement. After a beat, you were gathered again. Another breath and you spoke. “I just wanted to say, I don’t really do this sort of thing.” His eyebrow shot up at that and you scrambled to correct yourself. “Not this,” you half laughed then gestured to his naked body and yours, hardly clothed. “The bringing strangers home from bars thing. I definitely wasn’t expecting to see you again- not that I didn’t love it- I just didn’t want you to think-“

“I think you’re amazing,” he said quickly to assure you he didn’t think anything else. He wouldn’t either. Couldn’t even imagine anything else after making an ass of himself at your first meeting. He’s felt so out of place and vulnerable and ridiculous trying to take you home the night you’d met, but you hadn’t made him feel wrong or silly for it. For that alone he was grateful. For the sex that followed, even more so. You’d met him with just enough teasing to keep him engaged, but not so much that he felt like he was an unwanted addition to your night and whenever his eyes drifted away like he wanted to run and forget the whole stupid idea, you gently guided him back, eyes and words making it clear that you wanted him too. It was a mutual feeling of desire, as simple as it was complicated. Bucky wanted to keep it simple though, if for no other reason than to keep seeing your awkward smile duck into his neck at the eagerness in his voice. He touched your face again and repeated himself. “I don’t think anything… just that I’m glad I met you… and I’d like to keep seeing you.”

You smiled at him and whatever silliness he felt in his confession evaporated. It was the right thing to say. You sighed and leaned in again like you were going to kiss him, before stopping short and looking up at him through your lashes. “I don’t think I can say no to you.”

“Then don’t,” he said, but it felt like begging again as he hoisted you higher up on his chest to kiss you again. The conversation was over and if you weren’t going to say no to him, then he wanted to start his morning with as many breathy yeses as he could get.

Random serendipitous encounters became less random and serendipitous with every passing week. Bucky was feeling lighter, yet somehow more whole. Boy, did he need that. A woman’s lovin’ will do that for you. He vaguely recalls one soldier or another making similar remarks while he was in Italy. Bucky’s blue eyes belonged to the nurses back then, as his own innocence slowly died with each body dropped by his own marksmanship. This new world, new century he now had to navigate was so different. His enemies weren’t always flesh and blood, even the ones that did bleed bled out in black and blue not Nazi red. Aliens, other worldsmen, some very human psychos with eerily familiar ideologies about who was of value and who was not. Bucky fought next to his friend, spilling blood of all colors when necessary, bearing the stains that Captain America couldn’t as a paragon of justice and honor. Then when the ringing in his ears got too loud, he sought you out. Over and over again. He never showed up unannounced and you always answered his call, even when you shouldn’t. You truly didn’t know how to say no to him and he truly didn’t want you to.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bucky knew it wasn’t love, but he didn’t care. It felt good and it felt right and against his better judgment it helped him sleep at night, knowing you were only a half turn away, hugging your pillow, but content to wrap your arms around him instead as long as he asked. And he asked. When he wasn’t in your bed, it helped him stay sane, knowing that someone in the world was waiting on him, caring from a distance, maybe praying for his return. In the Big War, his mother prayed for him. His sisters too. In these mini wars, fought stealthily around the globe, he had you.

Rebecca was still blessedly alive, but his baby sister only remembered him when she saw his face. He would bet that you remembered him even as he schlepped through the mountains of Siberia for the last time. Always Siberia. Evil men must be allergic to sunlight. Sam had jokingly asked him why he always went back and Bucky had jokingly thrown the Falcon’s coffee away, leaving Sam’s hand empty and his mouth full of indignant teeth sucking. That briefing was blessedly brief and Sam didn’t need the rest of his coffee anyways. The flight via jet was longer, but not as horrible as it could have been. Steve’s sympathetic glances were unbearable. It’s the last time, Buck. Yeah, OK. The mission was a success, if you could call it a mission. Sam spun magnificently through the mouth of a cave while Bucky fired back into it, detonating the whole mountainside and leaving this particular Cold War remnant under an avalanche of snow and well kept secrets, never to be reborn. Steve dealt with the press. He had the face for it. Reputation too. Sam soaked up the due praise that came along with it, the next Captain America with his wings and his wit to carry avenging into the 21st century. Bucky, however, peeled off his heavily armed get up and peeled out of the compound without any formal announcement.

When Bucky left for long periods, most assumed he was doing what Steve Rogers would do. Ride around in his bike, traipse through the old neighborhood noting how much it changed. Captain America was the old man, the icon. He had the luxury of wandering. Bucky hadn’t gone anywhere without a mission in mind since the 40’s. He was a soldier, a weapon and while his mind could no longer be weaponized against him, Bucky was still the guy taking care of things that just wouldn’t wash out of Captain America’s shiny cowl. So when he left the compound, no one asked questions. At least not directly to him, something he was thankful for on the hour or so ride to your place. The Bronx apartment was considerably closer than a nostalgic walk through Brooklyn and he got a lot more out of it. He had no mission in Brooklyn, but you were waiting for him and that was enough.

This particular mission was no different. Steve asked him to stay on site and he declined politely as he could without actually stopping to talk to his friend. Natasha called out his hurried steps and followed him halfway to the garage before giving up at his request. It was glaringly obvious to Bucky how they got along so well. Steve and Natasha were quite the pair. Tenacious friends, like the kind of friends that never give up and definitely won’t let you give up on yourself. He saw it in her fierce allegiance and protectiveness over Clint. Now that Steve was huge and well connected in the Avenging community, Bucky supposed that made him the Barton to Steve’s Romanoff. They were insufferable do gooders too. Sure, Natasha had her fair share of red in her ledger, but once she was with the good guys, she was the best of them. Neither one would hesitate to throw themselves on a grenade or over a cliff if it meant someone else’s chance to live. They were do it or die trying people. Sam was… Sam was Sam. And when he spotted Bucky making a beeline to the exit, he just waved and shouted “have a good ride.” The wink was uncalled for and made Bucky question how much Sam really knew. He was a deadly intuitive little shit and despite Bucky’s best attempts not to even think it… one of the best people he’d ever known. Not that he felt the need to tell Sam that. He probably already knew it. Blessedly, Bucky ran into no other superheroes on his way through the compound. The garage, more like a hangar, was empty. Only the most expensive toys in Tony Stark’s arsenal and a high tech key coded workshop that Bucky felt so out of place in he kept a small tool box of his own so he wouldn’t have to wander through it. God forbid he go digging for a socket wrench and laser one of his fingers off. Anything was possible on Stark property.

Bucky zipped across the Hudson and sped toward the zoo, stopping at the deli on the corner and looking up two floors at the flat corner window. You weren’t waiting for him like usual. He’d pulled off the road once he got away from the compound and called you like he always did, giving you plenty of advance warning. It would be more gentlemanly to ask your permission before leaving home, but you hadn’t turned him down yet and if you ever did, he figured he’d keep driving anyways just to be away from everyone else for a while. Most times, when Bucky rounded the corner, slipping his bike into the space between your building and the overgrown lot next door, you found your way to that window, waving him up and putting a little something extra in his steps. You weren’t there, but you knew he was coming, so he made his way to the building’s entrance. A call, a buzz, a knock and Bucky was in your space again, taking a deep breath and inhaling the sweetness from your kitchen.

Your back was turned to him, having opened the door for him before rushing back to your place at the counter without a formal greeting, and Bucky watched curiously as you dropped little chocolate chip cookies onto a paper plate. You waved your fingers around after using your bare hands to pull them off the parchment paper and sucked your thumb between your lips to rid it of a rogue chocolate dripping. Bucky eyed the plate presented to him then looked up into your eyes.

“I googled you,” you said proudly. Bucky nodded and said okay, like he knew what that meant. It sounded sexual, but he hadn’t seen you in a week and frankly, he was more interested in googling than cookies. “It’s your birthday, Bucky! Why didn’t you say anything?” You looked delightfully scandalized and held out two cookies for him, which he accepted with a half smile. They were warm and started to fall apart between his fingers, so he shoved both into his mouth before making a gooey mess of himself. While his mouth was full, you cleaned up your tiny kitchen and dropped the plate onto the coffee table in the living area, talking about how embarrassing it was that you hadn’t thought to look him up sooner, but how lucky you felt that you’d thought about it after he called. You wished you’d had time to make a cake, but wanted to be home when he arrived, so freezer cookies were the best you could do after work.

You weren’t dating. Not really. That was why Bucky hadn’t mentioned it. Steve and Natasha wanted to make a big stink out of it, but he wanted no part of that. He just wanted to see you and get some of that good sleep he only got in your apartment after wearing you out two or three times. Sitting on the couch next to you, he took another cookie from the plate. They were better than they looked and he planned to clear the whole dang thing before taking you to bed. Maybe he’d save a few for the refractory period. You’d need sustenance too. So Bucky took his fourth cookie, which made you smile even wider and pledge to leave the rest for later.

The truth was, Bucky hadn’t celebrated a birthday in decades. The last one he could remember being awake for was in the seventies. He waited outside the governor's mansion in Bermuda for hours, watching a dinner party eventually lull and disperse. The Winter Soldier had no clue of the cruel irony watching another man’s party on one’s birthday, the asset’s only focus was quickly killing the governor and his companion once they stepped out of the house for a walk. He’d spared the dog though, a massive and beautiful beast without a single aggressive bone in its body who loped away from the scene whining. You hated that story when Bucky confessed it. He hadn’t felt the need to go into much detail regarding his time as the fist of Hydra. At first because he didn’t care for you to know. It was a fling. Fun. What pieces he did remember from those days were anything but fun. After determining that he liked you, really liked you, Bucky kept his trap shut for fear of scaring you. You knew who he was in theory, but as long as he wasn’t relaying his bloodiest days to you like he was now, maybe you wouldn’t look at him like the monster he didn’t want to be anymore. To his surprise, you hated that he sat in a tree watching people eat and drink and laugh the night away on his birthday, regardless of whether he knew it at the time. However, you zeroed in on his attempts to spare the dog, filling in the blanks that somewhere deep within the Asset, he had maintained some of his humanity. Some of his Buckyness.

“I don’t know if that helps… or if it makes everything worse…” you said, hesitating to go on, but he caught your meaning. Was it better to think that Hydra succeed in wiping him clean, using only his body and latent memories, discarding his mind all together? Or was it somehow hopeful, to think that in all their trying to eliminate Bucky Barnes in order to free their Asset, some piece of him had remained intact? Bucky wasn’t sure he could stomach the idea that any part of him had been present during grizzly assassinations, nor could he ever fully shake the idea that he wasn’t. Either way, these conversations weren’t what he came to you for.

While you were still looking shy, wondering if you should have stopped him from telling his story, Bucky kissed you. It was sweet, not just from the chocolate on his breath. “Thank you,” he said softly, thumbing a brown smudge at the corner of your mouth. “For the cookies. For listening.” His eyes passed over each of yours in turn. “Thanks for being here.”

“Of course,” you smiled. It wasn’t as obvious as you made it sound, but he liked that you felt it was. “I could be around more, you know.” Bucky didn’t know what you meant, but that became clear in a matter of moments. You sucked in your lips and started again. “I know we haven’t talked about...uh, well, what this is, but you’ve been coming over for a while now and I guess…”

“You guess?” Bucky prompted you to continue, when you trailed off.

“I didn’t expect you to still be calling me, so I guess I’m asking,” you said. “Asking what we are now?”

“Oh.” Bucky hadn’t meant to say it like that, but it came out like that and your eyes widened immediately. He scrambled, grabbing your hands quickly and holding them both in a firm pile against your thigh. “Oh, meaning, I didn’t think that’s what we were doing here, so this is unexpected.”

“Oh,” you respond and Bucky imagines you meant it exactly how it sounded. Disappointed and the single syllable precursor to his being disinvited from your apartment. And your bed. And your everything.

“But, I like the idea,” he supplies quickly, but he can see your look is hesitantly hopeful. “Of more, I mean. Seeing where… ya know.”

“Yeah,” you smile and Bucky breathed out his relief. “So we’re together…?”

“As together as we can be,” he said, having no clue what he meant by it, but it seemed to be the right thing considering how you kissed him. You pulled your hands from his to wrap behind his neck and fit yourself into his lap. Bucky’s hands went to your thighs, spread wide over his hips, and he squeezed his way up the backs to your jean pockets, slipping his hands inside to squeeze again. “Here or…” Bucky pulled away to catch his breath and nod in the direction of your bedroom.

“Take your girlfriend to bed, Bucky,” you laughed, kissing him again and he stood with you still in his arms, legs clinging to his lower back. Girlfriend. Okay, Bucky decided in a snap. He could work with that. Especially if it meant chocolate chip cookies and birthday sex. Which reminded him and you giggled as he turned back around, hoisting you higher up on his torso with the vibranium arm below your butt and stooped carefully to grab the plate of cookies with the other before taking you and your cookies to bed.

His first relationship in the 21st century had surprised him. Come out of nowhere and nothing. One moment he was standing at a bar, nursing a beer that wouldn’t affect him at all while he listened to talk about your job before not so subtly asking about his, the next it was his birthday and he had a mouthful of chocolate chip cookies while you had a mouthful of him. It’s funny how fast life changes. If only he’d known just how quickly his new relationship would fall apart.

A/N: I’ve been cooking up this series for a while now and I thought, why not post the first bit and see what happens. First time writing for this fandom, so we’re diving in head first with a feckin’ long series and some foolin’ around. I do welcome tags if you’re interested.

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