#and scolded him all the time for not understanding the difference between men and women for as long as he did

[hooved]

if i start calling odo she/her occasionally you better get with it

[applepie2523]

" HOTD's Issues Writing Women Part 1: The Character Assassination of Alicent Hightower

**Just posted part 2 where I analyze the issues in the writing of Rhaenyra! You can find it on my profile.**

**This is part 1 of my analysis on the issues with the two main female characters of HOTD.** I think many fans on the Blacks and Greens and in between regarding HOTD have been concerned and disappointed with the way the two main female characters: Rhaenyra Targaryen and Alicent Hightower have been written in HOTD seasons 1-2. This is very understandable. Female characters in general in HOTD and I think a lot of Hollywood films nowadays are not being written as well as they used to be and could be. Go on Youtube or Google and you'll find many film reviews/tv show reviews that critique the Mary Sue and Girlbossification or just poorly written in general female characters that are taking up a chunk of characters in Hollywood. Rhaenyra and Alicent to me were such great characters in F&B. They were two different kinds of medieval women in a fantasy setting. One, the medieval queen who gains power/influence through her relationship with men and advocating for her son. Two, the medieval queen who sought power in her name and defied some norms that make her compelling but also immoral in their eyes. They are two deeply flawed and complex characters fighting on opposite sides of a dynastic civil war.

This first post is my analysis on the issues of writing Alicent Hightower in HOTD.

\***Some disclaimers: This is no issue with the actress herself. Olivia Cooke while I may disagree with her opinions from time to time, is a wonderful actress who is doing the best she can with the scripts she's given, so this is by no means a critique of her. I am going off of the show canon although the book will be mentioned.**

**So firstly... What is character assassination?**

While Alicent does at times suffer from white washing, she mainly suffers from character assassination. Character assassination is very sudden and almost inorganic changes are made to a character that makes them even worse; harming that character's impact and reputation. Many negative traits or changes have been made to Alicent's character that she is become completely different from her season 1 self (in a bad way) and her book counterpart.

**I will say not every change made to Alicent's story arc and personality are necessarily all bad. Some are decent or even good ideas, just poorly executed (ex - aging down Alicent) and others are just good changes in general.**

*1. Victims vs. Villains - Biases in Writing Female Characters*

In the words of the iconic Grey's Anatomy actress Ellen Pompeo, “Women are one of two roles. You’re either the victim or the villain. But the victims are only victims because they don’t have what it takes to be the villain.” I think she states the major issue with writing female characters nowadays that HOTD has an issue with. Women must either be victims or villains. The character assassination of Alicent and white washing of Rhaenyra to me stems from this: Alicent is the villain in Rhaenyra's story to Rhaenyra's victimhood.

*2. Alicent's Negative Portrayal: Motherhood, Loyalty, and Manipulation to Child Neglect, Betrayal, and Idiocracy*

In the show, I feel much of Alicent's traits have either been changed, ignored or downplayed. Alicent I think was the epitome of the medieval woman who used the patriarchal system to her own advantage. Who sought power for herself and her family/house through manipulating/influencing the men around her. The men also respected her to a much larger degree than the show implies, she isn't dismissed because she's a woman so much. While I do think in the show Aemond dismisses her from the council because he just didn't want his mommy scolding him in front of everyone, I think the show framed it more so to make it seem Alicent is dimissed due to sexism and "that's what she gets for betraying feminism" or something like that. Something about her learning that the patriarchy and siding with it is bad.

I found Book Alicent reminding me of Margaret Beaufort. She was the mother of King Henry VII, who advocated for him to be King, despite herself off of blood ties alone having the better claim to the throne than him. She manipulated men and women around her to gain supporters and more influence for him and by extension herself. She was fiercely loyal to her faction, the Lancastrians and Tudors. Strong and intelligent and pious and at times very immoral. Loved her son more than anything in her life. She even played the long game, playing nice but still subtly undermining the "enemy faction" (The Yorks). She also understood that because of his claim, despite being slightly distant, was strong enough for him to be a danger to the York faction hence she knew he had to get one the throne in order to be safe versus just renouncing his claim (like Aegon). She never stopped advising him or advocating for him. While Alicent Hightower isn't exactly like Margaret Beaufort, they exhibit many similarities.

Alicent loved her boys and would never choose Rhaenyra over them. For example, after her life was sparred when Rhaenyra took Kingslanding and her father was executed... she found out Rhaenyra planned to go after Daeron and Aemond. Alicent begged for them to be sparred, even offering a truce where the kingdoms would be split between Aegon II and Rhaenyra. She even states to Rhaenyra after surrending that Rhaenyra may enjoy her throne for as long as it lasts, until her son Aemond sets her free. She loved her Aemond and had so much hope that he would rescue her and avenge their family. She loved Aegon so much that his murder was her straw on the camel's back and she descended into full-on madness, spending the rest of her days mourning her children and grandchildren and remembering her time with King Jaehaerys. She was so loyal to her faction that in her madness after losing all of her children, she ordered her granddaughter then Queen Jaehaera, child-wife to child-king Aegon III (Rhaenyra's son) to slit her child-husband's throat. She stayed loyal to the Greens for life.

In the show we get neither an intelligent, scheming, manipulative, deeply ambitious, loyal, or mothering Alicent. In fact we get an exact opposite: bystander, unintelligent, unambitious, flaky, betrayer, and neglectful. Alicent didn't scheme herself to become Queen, rather that whole plot was taken away from her and placed fully onto Otto who is now nothing but a pimp when he is like any other self-serving ambitious lord who desires glory and power to his name and that of his house. Who does what any other lord of Westeros would do if a King is widowed with no male heir. I mean even Corlys did it with Laena! We hardly see Alicent begin her true influence on the court in Westeros while young in season 1 and older. When we do see her scheme, its through her degrading herself through medieval foot fetishes when she would never do that. Why couldn't Alicent scheme and manipulate using her words, threats, and her title like Rhaenyra should be doing in the books? Why must the few times we see her scheme include sexual humiliation. We don't see the Queenship of Alicent who wasn't just "baby-maker 2.0" but someone who had significant power and influence at court. The only time I feel I got a true hint of the power of book Alicent was when she wore Green the first time. But then they abandon her resolve and make her a Rhaenyra simp.

Alicent's desire for power and for her children safety is also downgraded. She only makes Aegon king because of a stupid prophecy, taking away more of her agency and intelligence. She schemes alongside her father and the Green council to put Aegon on the throne, not just mishears her dying husband and then goes along with it. She wasn't shut out by the men in her house and council, she was heard and respected. They took away so much of that I think to put out a message that Alicent is oppressed by the patriarchy. Was she in the book? Absolutely every woman in Westeros is to varying degrees, but that doesn't mean Alicent had no power! Alicent was motivated out of a desire for power and need to keep her children safe which she felt wouldn't have happened if Rhaenyra was Queen. Was she wrong for thinking that? Maybe, maybe not, but I feel like that was taken away.

I also dislike how they spit on her motherhood. Alicent by our standards was not mom of the year in F&B. However, we see that regardless of her wrongs and the fact that yes she loves her kids because of the power they grant her, that no matter what she would never choos Rhaenyra over them and loved them regardless of how they disappoint or anger her. That's what I loved about parenthood in Martin's work. We see how parenthood offers layers into the characters and gives them depth. Characters who are naturally seen as more villainous and/or violent or ambitious are given softer sides and layers through their fatherhood or motherhood. We should have seen some of that with Daemon and with Alicent. We saw it with Cersei Lannister. Cersei was not mother of the year in terms of her parenting and child rearing skills, but she loved her children more than life itself and makes it not secret. No matter how much they may anger or disappoint her she'd never betray them. That's what I wanted for Alicent. A manipuative, at times immoral, ambitious, and intelligent woman whose softer side is shown through her motherhood and devotion to her children. It gives her layers. Just as if they showed Daemon taking pride in his sons or spending more time with his daughters, we would have gotten more layers.

Instead, Alicent neglect and is emotionally distant towards all of her children to the point they have serious mommy issues. The Green children already had a complicated relationship with their father. Viserys wasn't as neglectful in the book to his green children as the show, but there was an intense favoritism of Rhaenyra that affected his kids. However, they all at least had their mother who would put them first. Alicent was cold and distant and downright hateful towards her sons at times and distant from her daughter and grandchildren. Her kids then hardly like her in return. Alicent even betrays all of them by going to Rhaenyra and essentially offering up their lives. Offering the life of her son Aegon isn't enough and anyone would know it. Rebellion at this point and war and Green forces would then go to Aemond who will now also have to die, then Daeron the son she gushed over with Gwayne. So she then offers up her house, father, and three sons to Rhaenyra's faction's mercy which wouldn't end well for them as this is war at that point and it would stupid of Rhaenyra to spare any of them even if they swear fealty. She saves Helaena and Jaehaera? No! They are still of the green faction. If Helaena remarried and/or Jaehaera married and had sons, all it takes is either those sons or their families to be ambitious enough... more war! Alicent as well had a great relationship with her grandchildren. She loved to spend time with them. In fact, the night Viserys died he played with Jaehaera, Jaehaerys, and Maelor. Alicent was ambushed and victimized by B&C first because they knew that Helaena brought her children to visit her in the evening. Plus she was living in the less guarded Tower of the Hand. Alicent was bound and gagged, pleading for mercy for her grandbabies, not having an affair! In fact, Aegon even gave Maelor to Alicent to raise correctly because Helaena was falling in madness.

Most of all, I dislike the Criston affair. It went very off-book to give Alicent a lover. However, with what they changed in her relationship with Viserys, I didn't fully hate this change, just the way they executed it was wrong. I could buy Alicent and Criston having intense, deep, feelings for one another. However, I felt having a physical affair versus just an emotional one was very off-character. After Criston's incident with Rhaenyra and Alicent's trauma regarding marital rape on Viserys's end (hated that they made Viserys rape her maritally when the two had a much better and loving relationship in the book), it makes more sense for them to be rather traumatized or awkward regarding sex. I feel like an emotional affair where there is a lot of sexual tension and desire for more but because of social circumstances, they can't have more. Maybe romantic and heavy kissing scenes only to stop out of guilt and shame. They make her so hypocritical by giving her a physical affair. I feel book and show Alicent is pious for sex outside of marriage due to her upbringing and love for the Faith (she's not a religious fanatic, just someone who finds comfort and control in religion). They could have also used such scenes to showcase even more conflict between the factions. Alicent and Criston could be resentful of the fact Rhaenyra was able to be with whomever she wanted while Alicent cannot. Alicent whom is Dowager Queen is far too above Criston whom is also a Kingsguard and bound to celibacy. Plus, they always make her sex scenes be as unromantic and poorly timed as possible. Yes, Rhaenyra and Daemon having sex on a beach the night of the latter's wife's funeral is poor timing but because of the actor chemistry, romantic music, and tender movements and choreography it feels very romantic and loving. We don't get any of that. Alicent and Criston's feelings (which may not be love, but most certainly are hinted in season 1 to be a deep trust, understanding, and affection) are cheapened and made to be almost like two people scratching an itch versus two people who have genuine trust and affection for one another. They never show any tender aftermath with their love scenes, no soft hugs or cuddles or caresses. They never use any romantic settings or music (unlike for Criston and Rhaenyra's scene which was nothing more but a one-night-stand) and they showed it right after B&C of all things!

Almost all of these changes assassinated Alicent's character, made her less compelling, more unlikable, and untrue to her book self. They tried to create an Alicent whose story was victimized by sexist maesters and only created a character who is neither likable nor true to the narratives Martin creates.

*3. Women Must Stick Together? Fight the Patriarchy in Westeros?*

I've been asking myself... **why did Condal and the HOTD writers choose to go completely off book and have the two other main women, Helaena and Alicent, choose to abandon the Greens in favor of Rhaenyra and her faction?** I mean this is a change that is 100% off book and in major disservice to the original narrative. By surrendering to Rhaenyra, Alicent is essentially offering up the lives of her father, lover, house, supporters, and all three of her sons to the mercy of the Black faction which isn't exactly a merciful faction. I would be just as appalled if Rhaenyra or Daemon surrendered themselves, their children, and supporters to the Greens at this point in the story.

Then, the story became clearer when I watched Condal reviewing the scene with Alicent and Rhaenyra where he says it just all comes down to these women. That's when it became clear to me! Condal wanted to show a story of two medieval women and medieval system: one who seemingly opposes the evil patriarchy, and one who submits to it. He wanted a story centered on two women who were friends but were torn apart by evil men and the patriarchy who have to come together in the end. He wanted a story that sort of relates more so to 21st century feminism. He wanted a story where the women have to get together at the end which is Helaena, Jaehaera, and Alicent, the remaining main women not aligned with the Blacks defect to Rhaenyra's side. It's not bad to want such a story! If written well, that kind of story can be good. However, the issue is he doesn't choose to write his own story in his own fantasy world. No! The HOTD team picks F&B which is not that kind of story to write a poorly written fanfiction. It's a disservice to any fans of GOT, ASOIAF, F&B, or anyone who just wants faithful adaption or a good show. It doesn't fit with the narratives and themes of Martin's work. It doesn't fit with the original story.

The original story of the Dance was the story in which a dynastic civil war between two factions of the same royal family fueled by revenge, anger, resentment, fear of the opposing side, and ultimately a desire for power and control of Westeros tore themselves apart resulting in the destruction of the main source of their power that they never fully recover from that is step one towards them being overthrown. It is the story of the death of the last of Valyria's magic: the dragons. It is a story about how the central theme that connects every character in Martin's Westeros: ambition and desire for power, changes and destroys people when they pursue it. It is a story where two morally ambiguous factions backing two morally ambiguous claimants dividing the realm; believing their own side to be right when both sides are both right and wrong. It is a story that should center Rhaenyra AND Aegon with all their supporters, everyone getting equal screen time and perspective with a special focus on Rhaenyra and Aegon. It is a story about a realistic medieval conflict in an unrealistic world. It's a story about how the violent petty conflicts within a too-powerful royal dynasty in sole control of their world's equivalent to nuclear bombs ultimately effects and harms the nobles and smallfolk caught in between.

This is the story we should have had and this is the story that Martin sought to create that fans were expecting. The kind of story Condal wanted to create with his team is not congruent with the centrality of Martin's themes. Could feminism been included? Perhaps! I mean this is a medieval setting that 100% oppresses women and everyone who watched GOT or read ASOIAF knows it. Sexism and misogny certainly relates to the story, but it should not be the central focus. This kind of theme and focus was not executed and implemented properly, resulting in very negative changes.

It is also must be noted that the writers should have analyzed and understood the characters primarily through a medieval lens of Westeros versus just analyzing via modern 21st century pro feminism lens. It's fine to analyze Westeros using modern beliefs and terms, as long as, you couple it with a whole lot of understanding and analysis from their persepctive, otherwise you won't get the full picture. Like nearly every medieval woman of power in Medieval England, Rhaenyra and Alicent are not feminists by our standards and are not advocating for women's rights. In part 2 where I focus on Rhaenyra's whitewashing, I will talk about how she in many ways like Alicent gains power from, submits to, and operates within the patriarchal system like most medieval women.

*4. Too Much Focus on the "Friendship of These Women"*

I think the aging down of Alicent (she and Viserys actually had an 11 year gap versus decades) was intially a decent idea. However, the issue that character assassinated Alicent is that they executed it poorly. In the book, Rhaenyra is still a child when Viserys marries Alicent. In fact, as I mentioned earlier, her and Viserys had a very warm marriage. Arguably, I would say he loved her more than Aemma, but he did care for Aemma and felt guilty for her death. Alicent being aged down was to establish the complicated, deep, and almost secretly romantic friendship with Rhaenyra versus Laena Velaryon.

I didn't intially hate this change, but like I said, it's the execution of this change that made it bad. I wouldn't have minded Alicent reluctantly going to seduce Viserys after Aemma died, after all it was on her father Otto's orders, not did I mind Rhaenyra having a problem with this marriage. Ultimately, Alicent and Rhaenyra each had a competition and they wanted to be the chief first lady of the Realm in the book. They each respectively wanted to be the most powerful woman in Westeros and most important to Viserys as he is where their power stemmed from. I think we should have seen the days leading up to as well as the wedding itself. What the writers should have done to portray a more book-accurate Alicent and real conflict between the women isn't just make Rhaenyra resentful but still loving deep down to Alicent.

They could have had Alicent transition to her more book self; an ambitious, intelligent, scheming woman despite being aged down. Instead of having Viserys just choose her out of grief for Aemma, have him choose her out of genuine affection and perhaps even lust/love as I interpreted in the F&B. They could have kept Alicent unwillingly seducing Viserys and reluctantly marrying him, beginning the tension on Rhaenyra's end. However, after their wedding and after she gives birth to her son Aegon, they begin to slowly transition her to her book self especially after its clear that Rhaenyra is remaining heir. They could have created true and book-accurate conflict if they made their Alicent begin to enjoy Queenhood a little too much (as power changes and corrupts people) and beginning to have more and more influence over Viserys (as her relationship with Viserys in the book wasn't nearly as creepy or neglectful. In fact I think book Viserys may have loved Alicent more than Aemma, but still wanted Aemma's blood on the throne out of guilt). He chose Alicent regardless of better political choices or the protest of his council. They could have had Alicent and Rhaenyra beginning to compete for the attention of and influence on Viserys, Alicent subtly advocating for her newborn son to be named heir, Alicent enjoying her Queenhood and the power that comes from it, and leading to the real souring of her and Rhaenyra's relationship: both competing to be the most powerful woman in Westeros. The Crown Princess vs. the Queen. This way they still started off with the friendship, but Alicent's budding relationship with Viserys and birth of her children giving her more power as Queen making her relationship with Rhaenyra sour. Essentially, as Alicent continues to rise in power and bask in Viserys's attention/affection and enjoy her newfound role/power as Queen, real conflict and competition between her and Rhaenyra would show.

We'd have the competition, tension, and anger that gradually built up to help foster the eventual war either way as well as a chance to show the real political intrigue characteristic of GOT. However, for the sake of friendship and the false narrative Condal wanted to create, we don't get what I suggested that would have been the proper way to execute Alicent's aging down and friendship with Rhaenyra. Alicent can't truly and fully enjoy her Queenhood, take advantage of her power fully to its extent, or have relationship with Viserys. She can't be ambitious or compete with Rhaenyra. She has to have this complicated friendship, advocate for Rhaenyra while she was still young, be thankful of Rhaenyra's "compliments" at the dinner and even continue advocate after her children's birth to her father that Rhaenyra is the heir and only want Aegon to be heir out of just fear and her father's manipulation, rather than desiring power and believing Aegon to be the rightful heir. They have to have her say 'Rhaenyra will be a great Queen' and stuff like that.

Of course, Book Alicent advised with Queen Helaena for Aegon to send generous peace terms to Rhaenyra, but it wasn't out of love for her stepdaughter or "friend" in this show.. but because she didn't want her to son be labeled a kinslayer just yet as that would forever damage his image and he would be seen as cursed.We get scenes after scenes of their weird friendship dynamic all the way up till Alicent going Black. Scenes that ultimately distract and take away from the narrative. In fact, we should see more anger and resentment between these women that is taken away in favor of this friendship. For example, peace may have occurred between the warring factions early on when Aegon sent those peace terms. However, once Aemond murders Lucerys and then Daemon sends B&C who murder Jaehaerys in retaliation, any hesitation towards war and any lingering affection the factions and two women must have harbored for one another should be gone! Luke and Jaehaerys's murders highlighting two innocent lives lost on either side were the breaking point that put the Greens and Blacks at full on war. They were points of no return. However, not only do we see Rhaenyra never be outwardly angry and resentful of Alicent when they finally do reunite, but Alicent defects to the side who murdered her grandson. We see Rhaenyra grieve her loss, but we don't ever see it again after that one episode nor her anger and resentment and vengefulness that should come afterwards. We don't see Alicent grieve her grandson who was supposed to be murdered in front of her. Instead, the women are still complicated friends who don't even seem that angry at each other.

**My Takeaway? The Writers are Biased and Fail to Understand the Medieval Context of Westeros and Martin's Female Characters**

I love that Martin tries to write his women the way he writes his men. He has explicitly stated that he writes his women the way he writes his men. He states that women are people too. They can be driven by the same things men are in Westeros and/or the real world: love, anger, hatred, a desire for power, vengeance, grief, guilt, bringing glory to their name and themselves, a desire to protect their family, etc.

I felt we should have seen more of the kind of women that Martin writes. The kind of women that fit with his medieval-fantasy narrative that showcases how pursuing power at all costs leads to nothing but ruin. We should have seen layered women. We should have seen a more book-accurate Alicent. We shouldn't have to settle for a lackluster story where Alicent nowhere close to her book counterpart.

**And most of all, the HOTD team shouldn't subtly or outwardly bash the original source material as nothing but sexist propaganda to excuse the lackluster writing of the female characters being nothing like their book counterparts or subtly or outwardly write off critics and fans like myself as toxic for pointing it out.**

**Stay tuned for my part 2 of this post where I examine writing flaws and white washing of Rhaenyra Targaryen!** "

[leantailean]

Hello, longing-for-rain! I was the anon who asked you a question. I followed your blog because I liked your art, you're a good artist. But your words about toxic musculinity surprised me so much that I decided to ask a question, because, honestly, for all the time that I had been reading bad takes about Aang it was the first time when I heard about his toxic musculinity. Since you were so kind as to answer me, I think it's right to answer too, and now under my real name.

«How much more “toxically masculine” can you get than that?»

As someone who has had a similar experience: no, Aang's kiss is not an example of toxic musculinity. It was a stupid, immature act of a child who did not understand at the time that he could harm Katara with this. Don't forget: Katara and Aang had already kissed twice before, and one of these kisses was initiated by Katara (not to mention the fact that a very deep personal connection had already been established between them by this point, they literally saved each other from death). Aang does this not because he considered Katara his property, but because he thought that this line between them had already been passed and Katara would not mind it. That he would "fix everything." Are you really saying that if Aang had deliberately assumed that it would offend Katara, he would still have kissed her because "she is his property"?

Or are you really going to compare this kiss with a behavior of adult men who harass women, humiliate them and force them to have sex because "I'm a man, and a woman is obliged to give me everything I want"? The men who understand that they are causing harm, and still do it repeatedly? Who frankly say "it doesn't matter what she wants, she doesn't have the right to say no" (literal quote)?

But don't worry, unlike you who justifies Zuko's openly racist shit and putting the word racism in quotation marks, I'm not going to say that Aang was right. No, he did wrong, stupid and short-sighted, and Katara had every right not to forgive him for this and stop their relationship.

Immediately after that, we see how Aang realizes his mistake and scolds himself for it. It is also important that the kiss in the show final was initiated by Katara. Aang stepped back, and let Katara decide whether there would be a relationship between them or not. He learned his lesson.

And while we're on the subject. Do you know what a real example of toxic masculinity is?

Here is a real example of toxic masculinity, when a man openly uses physical and emotional violence and insults, because he considers his girlfriend  his property who is not allowed to talk to other men or not to show proper admiration for him. And then brazenly initiate physical contact, ignoring her legitimate annoyance of him.

And yes, May also forgave Zuko for this, although she had every right to break up with him, just as Katara forgave Aang (although what Aang did was not as disgusting as Zuko's behavior).

«I also find it very interesting that you describe Katara and Sokka as “children” while Zuko is omitted from that list despite being the same age. Are you admitting you agree he’s more mature, or are you admitting that you hold him to different standards?»

Because lots of what zuko did go beyond just “child mistakes”  I was talking about

Tie up a girl to a tree, leverage on her using her late mother’s neckless, hiring a killer to kill 12 yo kid, all of these too much to be called just a childish mistake, and these go beyond whatever mistakes Aang, Toph, Katara or Sokka did.

«In context, Aang is the one trying to force his beliefs on others»

It is not true. Aang literally said:

 And do you know what Katara answers?

Katara is Aang's friend, and he had every right to express his opinion on this. He worries about her and does not want her to get hurt, so that she, driven by pain, causes herself harm that she couldn’t fix. There is a clear parallel to this scene:

When Aang, having lost Appa, who is not just a pet, but his friend, the last thing he has left of his destroyed culture, driven by pain fell into a legitimate rage - Katara was the one who comforted him because she cared and she did not want him to harm himself or others. When Katara falls into rage, her brother and her friend are the one who are worried about her.

And, you know, the advice "don't kill a person, it will hurt you" is not the philosophy of air nomads. This is literally the only correct advice in this situation. You very conveniently ignore Sokka, who is not an air nomad and certainly never was a pacifist, but gives Katara the same advice. Katara did not deserve that the man who took her mother and childhood away from her, also took away from her the remnants of her innocence and peace of mind with his death.

Aang would be a shitty friend if he just didn’t do anything.

Even if Aang and Sokka were wrong (and they were right, even Zuko admits at the end of the episode), they had right to express their doubts, because Katara is their friend and sister. They, you know, have more rights to express their opinion than the person who in the past pursued her, caused physical harm, betrayed her once, caused the death of her best friend and then never expressed any remorse for it. Zuko literally never (either before his redemption or after) remembered the girl who showed him compassion and tried to help, and who he stabbed in the back an hour later. And ok, even if Aang’s opinion WAS air nomad philosophy, so what? He can’t say his opinion? He has to shut up and watch how his friend going into a danger? It’s not a friendship if friends are afraid to tell each other what they think. And in the end Aang didn’t stop katara and says he can’t stop her and watch her flying away. She took Appa, HIS Appa for this mission, He had all the right forbid her to do so and yet he didn’t.

 «This point is particularly interesting to me, because it implies that the simple fact that Zuko doesn’t agree with the philosophy of Aang’s culture makes him racist.»

Oh my God, really? Don't pretend that Zuko said "Aang, I think you're wrong."

Here's what he actually says:

He literally mocks  Aang’s culture - and he at least twice owes Aang his life. He makes fun of air nonads’ philsophy of forgiveness, although the only reason why Zuko is here at all now, talking to them is the forgiveness of Aang, who had every right not to give it. This is said by Zuko, who is literally the great-grandson of the man who organized the genocide of the Aang people, who wiped off the face of the earth all his culture and all his people - those very preschool institutions of the temples of the air - and who himself recently actively participated in the genocide and war of this very great-grandfather - and says this literally to the victim of this very genocide, a child who found the corpse of his murdered father figure. If you really don't understand how inappropriate it is to put the word racism in quotes in this context and justify it, then I have nothing more to say.

Yes, Zuko's behavior here is fucking racist shit, and he never apologizes for it and does not realize how disgusting he did.

Imagine white boy from a rich southern family, whose grand grand father was a slave master mocking black boy for his beliefs and culture. Or a grand-grandson of SS officer making fun of Jewish religion and traditions. How it looks to you now?

(yes, this is literally the same as the boy who put on the hat, not knowing that it was a spiritual symbol - literally just put it on - and immediately put it back in place and did not touch it again as soon as he was told what it meant.)

«Ah, yes. How demanding of him. He’s clearly so self-centered and only thinking about his own values and agenda here.»

Wow. "What is it with you?" Boy, do you realize how much pain you've caused this girl? That forgiveness is not a right, but a gift, the ones you have offended decide for themselves whether they wants to give it to you or not. After everything you've done, you have no right to babble something like "what is with you?" to your past victim and speak to her in a demanding tone, as if she owes you forgiveness.

Not to mention the fact that Zuko doesn't really care about Katara, he never once thought about her, about her kindness shown to him in the crystal catacombs, or about the pain he caused her - neither before nor after his redemption. He literally didn't care, he didn't feel guilty in front of her for a minute and wouldn't have brought up this issue of her forgiveness at all if Katara hadn't behaved towards him with outright hostility, which was uncomfortable for him, because it undermined his sense that he was completely part of the team. If she had hated him quietly, everything would have seemed ok to him. We see how Zuko reacts when he feels guilty towards a person he cares about: he remembered iroh many times, with great pain and regret in his voice, it goes through the whole second half of the third season. So if Zuko had even the slightest concern about Katara personally, her feelings, or how guilty he is in front of her, we would have at least one scene where he regrets what he did in the catacombs.

«...because you were upset about not being the center of attention for once...»

Cool. A child who is hurt when he realizes that his only family, Katara and Sokka, have a father, friends, a living culture, memories - you know, everything that he no longer has and will never have, because his family and friends are killed, his house is destroyed, his culture is destroyed and there is no one who even remembers what his people were like. This is a degree of tragedy that neither you nor I can understand.

«and telling everyone how disgusting you think cultural food is, what great ways to show the supposed love of your life how much you respect her culture!»

Is Aang part of the family and the people who destroyed Katara's culture and killed her parents? Or was he himself part of the army not so long ago, which was actively engaged in this?

Do not pretend that you do not understand why it is sounds especially unacceptable and racist when Zuko says it. Such comments would sound ugly if Sokka or Jet said something like that, but the fact that it is Zuko who says it, makes it completely disgusting and it is a good example of why, Zuko did not changed in many ways even though he changed sides. Aang had every right to punch him in the face after this, and only to Aang's forgiving nature and his concern for Katara Zuko should be grateful that he was not kicked out of the group after such words.

«“Attacking Aang to teach him a lesson” … wow, that’s a very dishonest way of phrasing that situation. I’m impressed, I have to say. I’ve seen lots of dumb takes from Aang stans over the years but this is a new one.»

"Teaching you a lesson" is not my words. These are literally Zuko's words, he literally vocalizes his motivation out loud.

 (cool, it's very similar to how he threatens the captain in the first season and how his own father talks to him when he intends to humiliate and harm him).

As for the rest: firstly, Zuko himself hid from Gaang the information about his father planning burn down the entire Earth kingdom, and secondly, if he believes that Gaangs behave carelessly, he should have, you know, tried to talk, and not threaten and physically intimidate.

«he’s faced with a problem, he runs away from it, then he’s saved by an in-universe equivalent of an Act of God. Wowie, such great character development. Not fixing your core flaw and having a mythical plot device materialize into existence to solve your problems for you. Aang’s whole arc is a big blah, because the writing fails to address any of his flaws or have him meaningfully question any of his values.»

Tired: once again, rewatch  the show. Aang does not run away, He literally falls asleep, and wakes up already on a turtle, in another world, and does not understand where he is. Before falling asleep, he actively defends his position in front of friends, and then goes to meditate, because this is his business, his duty, He is the Avatar and he have to decide how to end the war. It was just an easy decision to kill Ozai, not to conflict with friends about this, not to ask the advice of previous avatars, not to torment conscience. Aang's culture has perished, and he is not only an Avatar, but also is the last air nomad, and the fact that he wants to preserve the ideals of his culture and follow the ways of his people is right, it is his right (and even this, by the way, he was ready to give up when he thought there was no other way out:).

Aang is not running away from responsibility, he takes responsibility. If he wanted to "escape", he would choose the easiest and most universally approved way - just kill Ozai, and that's it.

This is the very philosophy of the series: victory over the old world, over war and violence. Victory of a new philosophy, a new ethics, where there is no place for bloodshed. That the teaching of the "weak and peaceful" has triumphed over the "strong and powerful". The fact that a descendant and an active participant in genocide, violence and war was defeated by a weak child, a descendant of those who considered destroyed, weak and useless. If you are so annoyed by the main - yes, purely pacifist and peaceful - idea of the series, then maybe you just shouldn't torture yourself, but go and watch another show, with much simple morals. There are a plany of them.

Sorry for a long post. I’m not going to start a discussion, just wrote down thoughts I had from reading your answer.

what exactly is Aang's toxic masculinity that you're talking about? there are no examples of such behavior on his part in the show. he is not an ideal person, he is a child who sometimes behaved incorrectly, just like all the other children in the show (Katara, Toph, Sokka), and this is normal.

in addition, we see how he regrets some of his wrong actions and gets better, while Zuko does not regret his toxic behavior, doesn't apologize and doesn't face the consequences of his behavior (racist jokes about Aang, demands that Katara forgive him as if he has the right to her forgiveness, an attack on Aang to "teach him a lesson" and many other things).

Hi anon, thanks for the ask! This is a very good illustration of what I was talking about in this post when I mentioned that I feel toxic men are overlooked more often for appearing “nice” than they are for being conventionally attractive.

No examples of toxic behavior in the show? What do you call this then?

I know what I (and the law) call it:

But you see, he’s “nice” right? This is just a misbehaved child, as you put it? Yah, no. He knew better and still did it because he was possessive; this whole interaction started because he was jealous that an actress playing Katara was interested in men other than him. And the show proceeded to frame the situation in a way that made Aang sympathetic, despite being the aggressor and the one behaving irrationally. How much more “toxically masculine” can you get than that? But he put on a flower crown once so we’re supposed to think he’s a soft uwu feminine boi (even though he was absolutely enraged that a female actress played him).

I also find it very interesting that you describe Katara and Sokka as “children” while Zuko is omitted from that list despite being the same age. Are you admitting you agree he’s more mature, or are you admitting that you hold him to different standards?

But, anyways. You asked about toxic behavior on Aang’s part, which I’ll get further into now that the most egregious example is out of the way.

Let’s break down what you consider unforgivably toxic behavior on Zuko’s part and compare it to Aang’s behavior in similar situations.

1. “Racist” jokes

I’m guessing this is made with reference to the “Air Temple preschool” comment. How exactly is this racist? In context, Aang is the one trying to force his beliefs on others, and Zuko makes this comment to a) tell him to back off and b) point out that Aang is, in fact, a child who doesn’t have any business telling Katara how to feel.

This point is particularly interesting to me, because it implies that the simple fact that Zuko doesn’t agree with the philosophy of Aang’s culture makes him racist. By this logic, Aang is also racist against Katara’s culture, because he clearly disagrees with her philosophy and is openly telling her that his culture is morally virtuous over hers. And well. That’s even more believable considering Aang’s previous reactions to Water Tribe culture.

Ah, yes. Playing with a cultural artifact like it’s a toy because you were upset about not being the center of attention for once, and telling everyone how disgusting you think cultural food is, what great ways to show the supposed love of your life how much you respect her culture!

I know your response to this point would be something like “uwu but he’s a kid he didn’t knowww” ok well. The same logic can be applied to any alleged “racism” on Zuko’s part.

2. “Demanding” forgiveness

Zuko: What can I do to make it up to you?

Ah, yes. How demanding of him. He’s clearly so self-centered and only thinking about his own values and agenda here.

It’s not like he…

…told his friend how she’s allowed to process her grief and try to impose his own morals…

…or demanded to know if his crush liked him back, wouldn’t accept “no” as an answer, and forced a kiss on her…

…or told an abuse victim he was wrong to want to kill his abusive father for trying to commit a genocide…

…oh, um. Yeah. Sorry, but after actually watching the show it’s very clear to me which character doesn’t seem to regret or see the flaws in any of his actions at the end of the show, which is when all of these examples took place.

3. Training in the finale

“Attacking Aang to teach him a lesson” … wow, that’s a very dishonest way of phrasing that situation. I’m impressed, I have to say. I’ve seen lots of dumb takes from Aang stans over the years but this is a new one.

Well, luckily I actually watched the scene in context, so my reaction was the same as all the other characters’ reactions in canon when they learned the context behind this “attack”:

They agree with him. Yeah. Obviously, when nobody is taking training seriously when the world is about to literally go up in flames, you might need to do something to get their attention.

“But it was dangerous!” you might argue. Well… yeah. When magic and bending is in the equation, training in the Avatar universe has been shown to be somewhat dangerous at times. As an example, from this very same episode, Toph very nearly smashed Sokka with a giant flaming rock. That was way closer to hurting someone than Zuko was in this incident. If you’re going to fault characters for making their training exercises too dangerous, I guess Toph is mega cancelled.

Now back to Aang. What was his reaction in this situation? How did he react to the end of the world being days away? He ran away with absolutely no plan. Just like he did at the very beginning of the show.

I mean, think about it. This is a critical flaw (and toxic trait) in Aang that is literally never addressed, because he starts and ends the show the exact same way: he’s faced with a problem, he runs away from it, then he’s saved by an in-universe equivalent of an Act of God. Wowie, such great character development. Not fixing your core flaw and having a mythical plot device materialize into existence to solve your problems for you. Aang’s whole arc is a big blah, because the writing fails to address any of his flaws or have him meaningfully question any of his values.

Meanwhile, Zuko has consistently been a fan favorite because he’s the opposite. His flaws are meaningfully addressed, he does admit he’s wrong and fix his flaws, and his character shows a critically acclaimed change throughout the show. His arc is written so well that despite being a cartoon character, Zuko is widely considered the poster child for a good redemption arc across all forms of media.

So anyways, miss me with the double standards… there is a reason why Zuko is the fan favorite, and it’s not just his abs 🔥

[wishesmsg]

10 Mistakes Women Make in Their Love Life

The mistakes women make in their relationships lead to their breakup or a bad outcome. Here are the mistakes women make in their love life. "Women and men are created differently in terms of their nature. While there is a huge difference even between two women, expecting the behaviors of men and women to be at the same level only leads to unhappiness. Although it is difficult for men and women to understand each other, it is beneficial to find a common ground. These behaviors, which men do not want in a woman and women do not give up in their relationships, negatively affect relationships. Here are the top 10 most prominent mistakes women make in their love life: Nagging' According to Men If you are constantly complaining and whining about everything your partner does, it's time to get your act together. Constantly bringing up a mistake and scolding your partner about it will only make them want to escape. Even if you don't understand your partner, you need to be a bit more tolerant and overlook the faults they make within the framework of tolerance. Don't wear down the person in front of you by constantly criticizing them."

Forcing Someone to Talk Women speak approximately 20,000 words per day, while men speak around 7,000 words. Men usually exhaust their daily quota of 7,000 words during the day and prefer to stay silent when they get home in the evening. If you insist on making a man talk all the time, he will not be pleased with this situation and it cannot be said that he will tolerate it for long.

Being Overly Jealous Calling constantly and asking who they are with, we call this "interrogation." Getting jealous about who they are looking at when you go out. Constantly questioning and pressuring a man leads to breakups.

Acting Like a Spy Going through their cell phone and secretly checking their social media accounts, and constantly being suspicious will harm the relationship. You should refrain from these behaviors.

Expecting Them to Understand Scientists have explained that men do not think as detailed as women. Therefore, do not expect a man to think as detailed as a woman. If you want to say something, you should say it directly instead of implying it.

Using Sexiness as a Weapon Stop trying to get men to do what you want by using your sexuality. Men may fall for these games at first, but they are not as foolish as you think. After a while, they will catch on and it will backfire on you.

Acting Like a Child If you think that men will enjoy your speaking with puckered lips and making childlike movements, you are on the wrong track. Making strange sounds like a child on the phone does not please any man, in fact, it makes you unattractive. If you want to attract attention, you should show your femininity instead of childish behavior.

Questioning the Relationship When you're at the beginning of your relationship, asking where this relationship is going and what our end will be is not helpful. Even if you start singing an Ahmet Kaya song loudly, "If my heart wasn't aching, our end wouldn't be like this." Hold on a minute, you're just getting started, time will show everything. Let things flow naturally.

Trying to Change Someone If you fell in love with a man, let him be who he is. For example, some women see it as their duty to turn a rough man into a gentleman and spend their time trying tactics to make him a gentleman. Why didn't you fall in love with a ready-made gentleman then? You should not attempt to change someone to avoid boring yourself and the person you're with, and to avoid playing with their feelings.

Comparing Comparing your boyfriend to other men, even your ex-boyfriend, will not bring you anything. In fact, it can be the reason for the man to distance himself from you. The man you are comparing to others loses his self-confidence, realizes that he is not happy in the relationship, and ends the relationship in a short time.

Read the full article

[shirebarbie]

[Anthony Bridgerton x f! reader] None of Them Were Me (pt. 1)

a/n: when i can’t sleep, this is what happens. very random, very unedited, hope it’s at least semi-decent. about 1.7 k words. maybe i continue with it, who knows!

summary + setting: after countless unsuccessful attempts at courting different people, lifelong friends [y/n] and Anthony are having a heated argument in the countryside. confessions of love; bees; lots of hand touching. no warnings, i’m pretty sure :)

FIND PART 2 HERE

„And do not think I have not realized what you have been doing all this time, to all of my potential suitors! I am well aware you tried your very best to ward off every single one of them, one way or another!” [Y/N] yelled out, gesturing in anger.

“None of them were good enough for you, [Y/N]. None of them!” Anthony yelled back, tilting his chin upwards. His eyes met hers for a brief moment before he quickly looked away again.

“Oh, please, Anthony! The bloody Prince took interest in me – a man who is intelligent, kind, handsome, and I would have been married into royalty! How much better than that can it even get?” Crossing her arms over her chest she stood her ground in front of the man.

“He was not worthy of you, [Y/N]-“Anthony began, raising his arms in defense, before rapidly being cut off.

“What was he lacking, then? Somehow I am the one paying for the impossible standard for perfection of Viscount Bridgerton, and I have never said a word about any of the women you have seduced for fun, Anthony!” At this point, [Y/N] was basically fuming – double standards were never something she was willing to accept, especially not from someone she has known all of her life. “Then tell me,” she continued, “why were none of the men that were interested in me, some of whose affections I have returned, good enough?” Her fiery eyes looked pointedly at the brown-haired man in front of her. She was so caught up in their little interrogation that she almost failed to notice how the two of them gradually moved closer to one another.

“Because… because none of them were me.” Anthony breathed out, trying to steady his voice. Somehow it was easier to look anywhere else except for the girl a few centimeters in front of him. An expression of shock spilled on her pretty face as she searched for his eyes unsuccessfully. Anthony swallowed thickly, looking down. [Y/N]’s arms were now at her sides, fidgeting with her dress. It took all the willpower Anthony had not to just envelope the girl’s hands in his bigger ones.

“W-what?” [Y/N] stammered, not believing her ears.

“They did not – th- [Y/N]…” The Viscount scrambled for words, mentally scolding himself for momentarily forgetting how to speak in such an important moment. The only thing his brain was able to produce was a desperate utterance of the girl’s name.

“Please explain yourself,” [Y/N] cleared her throat, feigning composure. She clasped her hands together and gave Anthony an once-over. His dark eyes were still refusing to meet hers.

“I know you have had a fair share of noble men whose eye you have caught,” he began slowly, allowing himself time to mince over his words with the utmost care. “And I understand why and I do not blame any of them. But do tell me, can you blame me for protecting the woman I love, and having her best interests at heart?” As soon as he paused between his sentences, having realized what he had just let slip past his lips, [Y/N] let out a short gasp. Anthony’s eyebrows shot up as he now started to play with the hem of his sleeve.

The woman he… loves? Anthony Bridgerton didn’t do love. Anthony Bridgerton was never going to do love.

“I am offering you my deepest apologies if my actions have offended you in any way, [Y/N],” he cleared his throat, deciding to pretend that no secrets have accidentally been revealed a mere moment ago. “I simply could not bear the thought of you, of all people, being mistreated by someone, being used, b-being… I do not know.”

“What should I have done about your little love affairs in the city, then? Chased all of them away? You are being unfair, Bridgerton,” though still upset about the quarrel they had going on, [Y/N]’s voice was now much calmer. Inside, though, she felt like her heart was about to explode into a thousand fireworks.

“I knew that would come up as well, yes,” Anthony nodded curtly, mostly to himself, bowing his head in a mix of shame and understanding. “All this time, you have had dozens of men competing for your love, a-and I could not just- I knew I could not let you be with me. So then I tried to distract myself, time and time again, trying not to think of some other man having his hands on you, breathing you in, brushing your hair away from your face, holding you in his arms on the dance floor, as everybody else looks on in envy…” the viscount trailed off, in one swift movement taking one of [Y/N]’s hands in his and gently squeezing it. To his great relief, she returned his gesture. “But no matter what I tried, the only thing I ever wished to do, repeatedly and constantly, was just to be near you every living, breathing moment of every day. And do you want to know why, in spite of meeting nearly every eligible lady in the whole country, I have never even attempted seriously courting any of them, much to my mother’s dismay? Because if it could not have been you, it would never be anyone else. Anyone. Else. Ever.”

Anthony hadn’t even realized his breathing had grown quicker until a heavy silence fell onto the pair. Heavy, on the one hand, and freeing, on the other. Now he had revealed his true feelings, at long last. Still taken aback, [Y/N] did not know how to react – in all fairness, that was a lot of information to take in. She reached for Anthony’s other hand and took it; partially to reassure him, and partially to try and steady herself a bit more. It felt as if the ground beneath her feet was vibrating – the gentle breeze in the air felt as if it would tip her over.

“Anthony…” she began quietly, “you could have just told me. We have known each other our whole lives, we have talked about so many things… we could have talked about this.”

“We could not have,” the man replied briskly. “I could not have let you love me and have your heart broken if something happened to me, w-when I die,” he stuttered out, with all his might trying to keep his composure as the tormenting images from years ago flooded his mind. “I have seen it firsthand, what my mother went through when my father- well, you know everything.” He attempted a dry chuckle. “You were there. You have been there this whole time. I did not want to burden you with more than I already have, [Y/N]. It is not fair to you. My duties are not yours to take care of.”

Anthony felt his walls crumbling down the very second he allowed his wandering eyes meet [Y/N]’s – always so full of compassion, so full of understanding and love. She was looking at him as though he held the entire universe in the palm of his hand and was about to gift it to her. In some way, he did. He was offering her his whole heart out in the countryside, in the vicinity of Edmund’s grave.

“Nothing is going to happen, Anthony,” she spoke softly, grasping both of his hands and not breaking eye contact. “And even if something did, I would still choose you. Over and over again, no matter how many chances I got,” [Y/N] admitted, going in to run her fingers through Anthony’s, now slightly wind-swept, hair in a moment of courage. Before she had the chance to touch it, there was a swift change in Anthony’s mood as he whispered hurriedly through gritted teeth, “Don’t move.”

“What is it?” the girl inquired, confounded, looking around immediately. The viscount felt his hear speeding up to the point of almost ringing in his ears. A bee was flying dangerously close to [Y/N]’s elegant neck, and he saw a hundred horrible scenarios play out in his mind.  

“J-just don’t-“ he gripped her shoulders with such fervor that his knuckles almost turned white. His eyes rapidly darted between the bee, [Y/N]’s face, and the statue of his father a few meters away. No, no, no, no, he thought, he had just told her he loved her, this could not be happening. Almost instantly his body broke into a sweat, and he thought he was going to collapse at hearing [Y/N]’s little wince – she got stung. In the neck.

“Darling,” she spoke as calmly as possible, “darling, nothing happened.” Anthony still had a death grip on her shoulders, now audibly hyperventilating as his wild eyes scanned up and down [Y/N]’s body, searching for any kind of signs.

“Anthony, my love, I am alright,” [Y/N] said slowly and clearly, starting to try breaking free of the man’s grasp so she could take his hands. As soon as she merely budged, Anthony gasped in-between his heavy breaths, thinking she was going to collapse any second.

“Y-you cannot-“ he stuttered, not even daring to say what he was thinking, “you, I-I just-“ Anthony was a complete mess and [Y/N]’s heart was breaking for the man in front of her. She knew the whole story about his father, bloody hell, she lived through that with him as a dear friend. And of all moments, this little accident had to happen right after he’d confessed his intense feelings for her. Having gotten out of his grip, she gathered him in her arms and pulled him into the closest hug possible. It did not matter in the slightest whether someone could see. Curious eyes and opinions of unimportant people were the least of [Y/N]’s concerns right now.

“My darling, my Anthony,” she whispered, rubbing a hand up and down his back – he was almost shivering as he clung to her like she was the only thing in this world keeping him alive. “I am perfectly fine, my dearest. I am alright. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Still unable to control his breathing, he just squeezed [Y/N] harder around her waist with one arm, and around her shoulders with the other, if that was even humanly possible anymore. Finally she started combing her fingers through his silky hair. In a moment of weakness, Anthony buried his face in the crook of her neck as he muttered something unintelligible between ragged breaths. [Y/N] pressed a gentle kiss to his head. “I am here,” she tried reassuring him some more, “I am not going anywhere, my love. Not now, not ever.”

For the first time in who knows how many years, Anthony Bridgerton started to cry.  

[kalims]

✉ ⋮ idk I just had an urge to do this because my mind decided to remember my obsession with quanxi and her gfs. <3 I HATE THIS BYE

fem!reader reveals that she's into girls to their admirers/freind. ft. not all genshin men and itto being dumb as hell. not everyone likes reader romantically.

fluff, angst perhaps, one-sided crush on diluc and kaeya's part.

diluc

"oh."

he immediately pieces things together the moment he processes your words. he's speechless and doesn't know how to react so he just blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

it takes a few whole seconds for him to regain his composure that is currently reduced to an embarassed, shocked mess. embarassed because why couldn't his blinded eyes see it? he could clearly see the difference between the way you converse with him and a certain blue haired vengeful woman.

you're more attentive, listening to the half hearted spews of vengeance spilling from her mouth. and he's never seen you look so.. what's the word? excited, happy maybe? he doesn't know how to explain.

he apologizes profusely, giving you a drink and saying it's on the house tonight. the only thing on his mind was to recognize boundaries and get over his little crush immediately.

kaeya

"that's quite the surprising revelation.."

let's get this straight, he may seem cool and understanding but he's legit panicking inside his head. lighty scolding himself to keep it together, he can't force love that doesn't even have attraction!

kaeya gets over it pretty quickly and starts teasing you, saying sometimes along the lines of: "heh, don't you think rosaria would like it too?" mentions her name in every sentence and makes it so fucking obvious that there's an inside secret going between the two of you.

rosaria only stares at him, unimpressed and exhausted because it's kaeya. she doesn't like things being kept from her either way so she asks you ONCE on 'what's his deal' and scoffs quietly when you look close to having a seizure.

kaeya wingman era.‼️

kaedehara kazuha

"I've known for a while now, when are you telling captain?"

this mf, this mf right here. HE KNOWS. says unintentionally concerning things like, he's known from the first time your gaze landed on her 'high and mighty silhouette'. low key got poetic.

tells you that he hopes to get TWO mothers soon and you have so pinch his arm when beidou comes strutting in with a curious raise of her brow and a grin appearing in her mouth.

best wingman ever if he ever gets over his teasing phase, he's smooth as HELL. "captain beidou, I've noticed that miss (name) has been feeling under the weather, I remember her saying something about home sickness." "really? huh... they never mentioned anything about that.. I'll go ahead and help her then."

gorou

"H-HER EXCELLENCY-- I-I.. mean, thank you for informing me of these.. uh--"

turned bright red, keeps tripping over his words and pausing as if he's realizing that he's supposed to be the strict, calm and composed general.

drinks respect women juice TM. gets all starry eyed when he spots you and kokomi taking a walk together in watatsumi Island, ALONE. becomes a fanboy for a minute before realizing. 'oh no!! her excellency and miss (name) might be in danger!! D:'

he gives me overprotective vibes so he proteccs the lesbians. 😇

arataki itto

"hUUuuH? does that mean you're into oni?" "no. arataki."

feels like his brain is frying from trying to comprehend your sentence so his mind goes like: so she's into oni..! that's good cuz' I'm the resident oni in town! 😎

when you begrudgingly explain to him that you're interested in girls rather than boys. he says 'OHHH' so loudly then proceeds to scream 'OHHH??' more loudly again because he realizes you have something for his .arch.enemy. 👺

calls you his enemy now cause there ain't no way you LIKE LIKE the tengu warrior he LOST to, like? out of all girls out there why u gotta like her. >:(

"that tengu girl?? really?? talk about shit taste." "can you shut the fuck up, do you want the whole city to know??"

[calpalirwin]

(Don’t) Leave Me in the Dark

Summary: When Bucky gets turned into the Winter Soldier, Steve has a plan for dragging his old friend out of the darkness: you.

A/N: Heavily inspired by Repeat by Luke Hemmings.

Word Count: 8.1k

And away, and away we go!

__

1943

Y/N’s eyes watched the crowd, flickering from person to person. Studying. Observing. And yes, maybe even ogling as her gaze locked in on two men in particular: a tall, strapping brunette in a sergeant’s uniform, and a scrawny blonde man with a stance designed to make him appear bigger than he actually was.

“You can do more than just look, you know,” a voice said in her ear, making her jump slightly.

“Stark,��� she scolded with a soft giggle. “I’m working.”

“So am I. It’s called mixing business with pleasure. And there’s no harm in it. Especially when they look as good as that one.” Howard shot the woman a wink, jerking with his chin towards the soldier she couldn’t stop staring at. “A sergeant, too? A girl’s got taste.”

“I was actually looking at his friend,” Y/N half-lied.

Howard snorted, not believing the lie for a single second. “Oh really?”

She straightened her shoulders. “Yes, really. He’d be a perfect candidate.”

“You SHIELD agents are all the same. Always plotting and planning, and never enjoying,” he told you with a roll of his eyes. “Gentlemen!” he then called out loudly, grabbing the mens’ attention, the blonde pointing a finger at himself. “Yes, you two right there! Come take a gander at all that Stark Industries has to offer.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide as the men approached, and she could have killed Howard right then and there, but the men were growing closer, and oh! the brunette’s eyes were such a pretty shade of blue as they drank her in. “And would you be talking about the newest technology for the war, or the dames, Stark?” the soldier asked with a laugh, his stare still fixated on Y/N.

“She’s not one of mine,” Howard told him. “Which is unfortunate because Y/N is as smart as they come. Which is why SHIELD got their hands on her before I did.”

“SHIELD,” the blonde said. “That’s the government agency, yes?”

“That would be us, yes,” Y/N answered. “Interested in joining? We could use someone like you.”

“Really?” he questioned at the same time his friend let out a bark of laughter.

“Yes, really,” she said, ignoring the brunette. “If contributing to the war effort is something that’s important to you.”

“Oh, it’s important to both of us,” the sergeant told her.

“Yes, and it would seem that one of you has already managed to make their contribution, soldier,” she said, eyeing his uniform purposefully.

“It’s Sergeant,” he corrected. “Sergeant James B. Barnes, if you want specifics. But if you’re lucky, I’ll let you call me ‘Bucky’.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she provided in turn, shifting her attention back to blonde. “And you?”

“Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“Give SHIELD a call, Rogers. I promise it’ll be worth your while. Mention Operation Rebirth when you do.”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you,” Steve said with a smile.

“Of course. Gentlemen,” Y/N gave a small nod to both Howard and Steve before turning to Bucky. “Bucky. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” With that, she walked off leaving Steve happy with his hopeful opportunity to at long-last join the war effort, Howard shaking his head at her antics, and Bucky completely in over his head about her.

~~~

1944

Y/N frowned as she looked over the debriefing. “So not only does Hydra have it’s hands on the same serum we created, they also are using it on POWs? Essentially turning our own men against us? Is that what you’re telling me?” she demanded, her voice sharp as she waved the folder in her hand.

“Yes, ma’am,” the agent told her, nodding their head, eyes wide with fear.

She slammed the folder on her desk. “So who’s going in to get our men back?”

“N-no one ma’am. General said it’s too dangerous. Waste of resources.”

“Well you tell the General that he c-”

Her threat got cut off by a new voice. “What do you mean the 107th got captured a month ago?! Do we know where their location is?!”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Y/N couldn’t quite place it. The voice that answered the man, however, she could place. “Yes, we have their location. However-” Peggy Carter spoke.

“However what?” the man asked. “You’re not staging a rescue mission? Those are our men!”

“You want me to tell the General what, ma’am?” the agent still standing in front of Y/N piped up awkwardly.

Y/N waved her hand at the agent in frustration. “You’re dismissed,” she told them before shouldering past and out the tent.

Sure enough, just outside the tent stood Peggy Carter and a tall blonde man, a wooden shield hanging off his arm. “Ah, Y/N,” Peggy smiled. “Might I introduce you to Captain America?”

Y/N looked up at the man, him both familiar and a stranger. He regarded her with the same look of confused recognition. “Steve,” he said, extending his hand to her. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

“Steve, Steve Rogers, Steve?” she asked, shaking his hand. “Scrawny kid from Brooklyn, Steve?”

Steve gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle. “The one and only.”

Y/N shot Peggy an excited look. “The serum worked?!”

“I knew your name seemed familiar!” Steve beamed, now understanding how he felt that he knew the woman. “Thanks for the recommendation.”

“I’m glad it worked!” Then, the excitement vanished as she remembered the folder in her hand. If their serum worked, then that meant… “Oh, no… Peggy, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

Peggy raised an eyebrow in silent question, her eyes flickering to the folder. “Oh, yes. I wanted to talk to you about that as well.”

“They have our men. Why isn’t the General sending in a rescue squad?”

“Which men?” Steve asked.

Y/N opened the folder, running her finger down the document, rattling off a couple of squadrons, “... 107th Infantry Regiment…”

“That’s Bucky!” Steve interrupted. “That’s Bucky’s unit.”

“Your friend,” Y/N recalled. “The brunette who’s too good-looking for his own good?”

Steve spared a wry smile, “That’d be him.”

“Why isn’t the General sending in a rescue squad?” Y/N asked Peggy again. “Do you know how dangerous this could be? How much it compromises all the work we’ve done?”

“Yes, Y/N, I’m aware. The General however-”

“The General doesn’t know his left from his right!”

Peggy sighed. “He can’t spare the men.”

“So what do we do then?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. We’re getting a team of SHIELD agents to rescue the POWs at a known Hydra base nearby.”

“This nearby Hydra base that contains the 107th?” Steve asked.

“Yes,” both women told him.

“I want in.”

It took two weeks for the plan to come to fruition. Armed with volunteers hellbent on revenge and a handful of SHIELD agents, Steve led the group in infiltrating the Hydra base. It was a mission with two prongs. Prong one involved Steve and the soldiers locating the POWs and getting them out. Prong two involved the SHIELD agents destroying any and all progress Hydra was making with the serum.

Y/N and Peggy waited back at a basecamp they had set up closer to the Hydra base without drawing unwanted attention. “Oh, would you stop with the incessant tapping of your foot?” Peggy asked in an exasperated tone. “They’ll be back when they get back.”

“There’s too many unknowns,” Y/N answered, moving to picking at her fingernails.

“Mmm, and these nerves would have nothing to do about seeing Steve’s friend again, would they?”

“No…?” Y/N said slowly. “What does Steve’s friend have to do with any of this? Where’d you get that idea from?”

“Steve. He mentioned the story of you meeting the both of them in New York. Something about an unknown potential between you and the sergeant.”

“Mmm, and we’re growing close to Steve, are we?” Y/N returned the teasing.

“Steve and I are merely work acquaintances. Much like how you and I are.”

“Tell that to Steve. He fancies you something awful.”

While Peggy and Y/N continued to tease each other about Bucky and Steve, the men were on their way back, having a similar conversation of their own.

“So… how did you become this?” Bucky had to ask, sweeping a hand up and down Steve. “A year apart, and you go and have a growth spurt on me?”

Steve chuckled. “Uh, do you remember Y/N from New York? The woman with Stark who told me to talk to SHIELD?”

“You mean the bombshell dame that I should have asked to dance? Oh, yeah,” Bucky smiled dreamily.

Steve chuckled more. “Well, her telling me to go to SHIELD turned me into this. An experimental serum to create the perfect soldier. And I guess it worked, because here I am.”

“Mmm, is there where you crush my spirits and say that you took Y/N dancing? I mean, surely if you caught her eye when you were the scrawny kid from Brooklyn…”

“No,” Steve said with a shake of his head. “Plus, I think she was only interested in me because of the experiment. And my eyes are on someone else. A different SHIELD agent.”

“Oh?” Bucky grinned, nudging his shoulder into Steve. “Look at you! A little serum, and suddenly you’re a ladies man. You’re all grown up.”

“And you’re still the same, I see,” Steve laughed.

Bucky laughed along with Steve, but the laugh didn’t hold the same trace of humor. “Yeah… So, tell me about this new lady.”

“Peggy. She’s wonderful. Smart. Fierce. And she’s here. Y/N is too.”

“Y/N’s here?”

“Yeah. A lot of SHIELD agents are. I was a little surprised to see her myself. I mean, I only saw her that night in New York, same as you. I almost didn’t recognize her at first. I’m shocked she remembered me at all.”

“She’s here?” Bucky repeated.

“Yes,” Steve nodded. Then, “And yes, she still looks like she’s available. So if you wanted to ask her for that dance, now would be your chance.”

Bucky gave a shy scoff of a laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I dunno about all that.”

“I thought you wanted to dance with her?”

“I do! But… Look, there’s a reason I didn’t ask her in New York. I was leaving for here. I didn’t want to risk either of us getting attached, and then something happening to me. I mean, imagine if I had asked her to dance, and we started exchanging letters, and then she stopped hearing from me. I couldn’t do that to her.”

“So, you were going to hope that when the war’s over you’d be able to find her?”

“Yeah. A girl like that deserves stability, Steve. No matter how badly I might wanna share a dance or two with her.”

“Well, you can tell her all that yourself if you like,” Steve told him, nodding his head in the direction of a camp coming into view. “Cause she’s here, here.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “No! And you don’t tell her either, you understand me?! I’ll tell her when I’m ready. When the time’s right.”

Steve gave a roll of his eyes. “Whatever you say, Buck.”

“Steve?” Peggy asked, rising from her seat, hearing the voices as they drew closer. “Y/N, I think they’re here.”

With a sigh, Y/N also stood up, following Peggy out of the tent, watching a large group of men walking up, Bucky and Steve in the front. “You did it,” Peggy told Steve proudly.

“Of course,” Steve smiled. “Peggy, this is Buck. Buck, this is Agent Carter. And I think you’ll remember Y/N.”

“Hi,” Bucky said, his voice growing shy as he offered both women a small wave. “Good to see you again, Y/N.”

“Likewise,” she replied, taking note of his appearance: battered uniform, a slightly haunted look still lingering in his crystal blue eyes, scruff decorating his jaw, disheveled hair, a dirty face, and a scratch just under one of his eyes. A seemingly out of place scratch that set alarms off in her head. “Would you mind coming with me?”

“Me? With you?” he asked, waving a finger between them.

“That’s what I said, yes. We need to get you examined.”

His eyes widened for the briefest second as he swallowed thickly. “You can just point me in the direction of the nurses’ tent. You don’t-” he stammered.

“Our nurses are going to be swamped checking over all the other men,” she explained. “And if you’re worried about my own nursing skills, I assure you that I’ve picked up on a few things during my time here.”

“It’s true,” Peggy confirmed. “Y/N actually might be better than some of the nurses on our staff.”

“Uh…” Bucky continued to stammer, uncertain of what to do.

Y/N started walking off, pausing when she didn’t hear the sound of boots following after. “Bucky?” she asked, looking back at him over her shoulder. “You coming?”

He gave a shake of his head to clear it. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Silently they trekked through the camp, past the nurses station crowded with soldiers waiting to be seen, and into a smaller tent that held a cot made up neatly, and a desk with a chair behind it. “Have a seat,” Y/N directed, motioning towards the cot. As Bucky took a seat, Y/N pulled a first aid kit out of a desk drawer, before dragging the chair over to the cot. “I’m aware that I’m about to ask you some difficult questions, but I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?” she asked as she sat down, opening the kit in her lap.

“I think so?”

“How’d you get this scratch?” She wiped an alcoholic pad across it, creating a patch of clean skin on his otherwise dirty face.

He shrugged. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Lying to me already?”

“I’m not lying!” he snapped.

“Then tell me how you got the scratch. And don’t tell me a guard hit you because we know that’s a lie. That’s an abrasion mark. Like you scraped it against something. So how’d you manage to scrap your face against something?”

His mouth pinched, the look in his eyes growing more haunted. “I don’t wanna talk about it…”he muttered.

“It wasn’t normal torture, was it? Did they experiment on you?”

“I said I don’t wanna talk about it!” he snapped again, his tone carrying a hard edge.

“I know you don’t want to. But I need you to. It’s important that you tell me everything that happened,” she said, keeping her voice calm and controlled.

He screwed his eyes shut tight, clenching his hands into fists. “They injected us with something…” the words started to spill in a rapid rush. “It made some of us stronger… And others… It was painful… Like facing a firing squad would hurt less. The screaming… And we couldn’t see what was happening. They’d strap us in these chairs like at the dentist, and then they’d put these things over our faces. And then there was more pain. Like getting electrocuted. They’d do it for days. You never knew which day was yours. The screams never stopped. God, I just want it to stop!” His eyes snapped open, his chest heaving, body trembling, tear tracks down his cheeks. “What did they do to me?” he asked, his voice a broken, hoarse whisper.

“They turned you into a super soldier.”

“A what?”

“It’s an experimental procedure. It’s what we did to Steve. It’s designed to make you faster and stronger. Harder to kill.”

“You tortured Steve?!” The hard edge was back in his tone, almost murderous.

“No! Steve only got the serum. And it was painful, the way it changes your body on a molecular level. But we don’t brainwash our soldiers with electrocution afterwards.”

“So why did they electrocute us? If it's the same experiment?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. But I’d say it has something to do with stripping away your humanity. Turning you into an obedient killing machine. Nobody wants a soldier who questions orders, right? Hydra… they somehow learned about Operation Rebirth, which is our program for creating super soldiers. We wanted it to give ourselves a competitive edge in the war, and cut down on our own casualties. But Hydra just wants the competitive edge, no matter the cost to human life. They want the perfect, undefeatable army.”

“But why us? Why me?”

“Why not you and other POWs? Better for them to risk enemy lives than the lives of their own soldiers.”

“It’s not right…”

“Nobody said it was. And you have my deepest condolences for what you and your men have suffered through.”

“I don’t want your condolences!”

“What do you want?”

“To murder every one of those bastards for what they did to me.”

“Then it looks like we’re on the same side.”

~~~

1945

It took another year for the team to gather more intel on Hydra’s plans for the super soldier serum. A year of small missions led by Steve and Bucky with their own small squadron of soldiers. A year of Peggy and Y/N pouring over debriefings, fitting together as many pieces of the puzzle as they could. A year of Y/N listening to Bucky wake up in the middle of the night, struggling to catch his breath as his mind forced him to relive his days in captivity. A year of feeling the tug to leave her tent for his, to provide any sort of comfort for him she could, but ultimately always deciding against it. Instead, she’d seek him out in the mornings, offering him a small smile as if to offer congratulations for surviving another night with his demons.

Bucky grew to live for those morning smiles. Lived for the way that Y/N could go from demanding SHIELD agent who could strike fear in the hearts of war-hardened soldiers, to a woman with a soft laugh he swore was only reserved for conversations with him. He reveled in the fact that she grew comfortable enough around him to feel like she could drop the hard facade she gave everyone else. As if around him, she didn’t feel like she had to prove herself like she did around the other men.

“So defeat Red Skull. Should be a simple enough mission, eh, Buck?” Steve joked during a debriefing meeting.

“Piece of cake,” Bucky answered, brushing imaginary dirt off his shoulder.

“No,” Y/N cut in. “The mission is to defeat Hydra. Defeating Red Skull is just a piece of it. An important piece. But a piece all the same.”

“But kill the head of the organization, and the rest will fall,” Bucky told her.

She rolled her eyes. “You know what Hydra is, right? The monster from Greek myths?”

“Yeah, it’s the snake with multiple heads. Everyone knows what a Hydra is.”

She rolled her eyes more. “So you know that it’s not as simple as just killing the head of the organization? After all, kill the head, two more grow in its place. Hence, Red Skull only being a piece. You have to take down the whole monster, not just its head.”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky said, waving his hand dismissively. “So, we go in to defeat Hydra once and for all. When do we leave?”

“Captain Rogers, you, and your team leave at dawn,” Peggy told him, a finger pointing at a map. “You catch the train here. It’ll lead you straight to Hydra.”

“That’s a mountain…” Bucky pointed out the obvious flaw in the plan.

“How else are you supposed to catch a Hydra train? Buy a ticket?” Y/N asked him, tone heavy with rhetoric. 

Bucky looked at Steve with raised eyebrows. “So we’re gonna catch a train on a mountainside, huh?”

“Easy, right?”

“Piece of cake. Anything else?”

“No, that’s all,” Peggy told them.

“Oh!” Y/N said, suddenly thinking of something. “Actually yes. One last thing.” She got up to grab a suitcase, setting it down on the table and opening it, revealing small devices inside.

“What are those?” the other three asked her.

“Trackers. In the event anything happens. Make sure each of your men is equipped with one. You just slide it on like a bracelet and hit this button right here,” she demonstrated. “And then I can see your location here,” she pointed at a monitor screen that showed a green light blinking steadily. She turned off the tracker and the blinking went dead on the monitor. “The Navy’s been a great help with their radar technology. And Stark of course.”

“Of course,” the other three said.

Y/N snapped the suitcase shut, handing it to Steve. “Don’t forget.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now go get your rest. It’s gonna be a long mission.”

In the morning, Peggy and Y/N were up to see the men off. While Peggy and Steve had their own hushed farewell, Y/N stood facing Bucky, her arms crossed over her chest. “Be safe, James.”

“Oh, I’m ‘James’ now?” he asked with a bemused smile. “What did I do to warrant that?”

“Bucky!” she said, her cheeks flushing. “I meant to say ‘Bucky’.”

His eyes flickered around, noting how close the other men were. “Whatever you say, Agent Y/L/N.”

“Sergeant Barnes,” she said, her nostrils flaring.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I don’t like that one. Not from you. ‘James’ I can make an exception for. But I still prefer when you call me ‘Bucky’.”

“Just… be safe, okay?”

He nodded, giving her a mock salute and a cheeky wink.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, watching as Bucky joined Steve, and the team rolled out. Once they were out of her line of sight, she turned into her tent, pulling out the monitor screen for the trackers, watching the green lights come blinking to life.

While her energy could have been better spent on other tasks, she couldn’t bring herself to do anything besides watch the steady blinking, a calm reassurance that all the men were exactly where they were supposed to be.

As expected, as the mission went forward, some of the trackers didn’t move forward with the rest. Each one felt like someone had stabbed Y/N with a knife, and her only hope was that it wasn’t Bucky or Steve.

One tracker however caught her attention. It stayed behind while the others went forward. But then, it stopped blinking.

Y/N quickly jotted down the coordinates of where it had been blinking, drawing a small star next to it. She also jotted down the other coordinates of the trackers that stayed behind. But the one that went dark made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She didn’t like that it was the only one that stopped blinking.

Hours ticked by. More coordinates were jotted down. Then, a cluster of the trackers stayed together while one continued onward, and her heart dropped to her stomach, knowing that nothing about that could be good.

At that moment, Peggy came barging into her tent, radio in hand. “Steve, where are you?”

“All I see is ocean,” came the garbled radio response. “This plane’s going down. Let’s get a raincheck on that date?”

Peggy’s eyes looked at Y/N frantically, and the other woman pointed a finger at the monitor, tracking who she assumed to be Steve, as it was the only light still moving on the screen. “We have your coordinates. We’re sending someone to get you. Stay put,” Peggy told Steve.

“It’s hard to stay put when I’m crashing.”

Static crackled through the radio. “Steve?” Peggy asked. “Steve, do you copy? Y/N, where is he?!”

“There, he’s there!” Y/N told the other woman, following the blinking light with her finger. “Have the Navy pick him up.”

Peggy watched the monitor over Y/N’s shoulder while she called into the radio for someone to send Steve’s location to the Navy. “And which are these?” she asked, pointing at the cluster of blinking lights.

“That’s the Hydra base. So we need to send someone to go get the survivors.”

“Yes, and these?” Peggy’s finger moved to the spattering of random locations of blinking lights.

“Bodies to pick up. Peggy, was Bucky with him?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“One of the lights. It dropped off in the mountains. But then the tracker went dead. It’s the only one that went dead.”

“And what does that mean? The tracker broke?”

“Or someone broke it. None of the others went dead. The tracker stayed blinking in the same spot, but it stayed on the map. All but that one. Something about it feels off to me.”

“We’ll figure it out after we get the team back.”

It was a long, and tense wait for Steve and the survivors of the team to make it back, Y/N scanning around for Bucky. “Where is he?” she demanded, pulling Steve aside.

“Hello to you too, Y/N.”

“Hi, Steve. Glad you’re back after your nice swim in the Atlantic. Where’s Bucky?”

Steve swallowed, lowering his head.

“Steve…” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “Where is he?”

“Let’s go talk,” was all he said, ushering her into a tent where they’d have more privacy.

“Just tell me if he’s dead or not,” she said, her voice cracking as she crossed her arms.

“I don’t know…”

“How do you not know?”

“I mean, I don’t know. On the train. It was a set up. Hydra was waiting for us. There was a fight. I tried to grab him, but he slipped.”

The blinking light that went dead in the mountains. “Steve…”

“I tried, Y/N. I tried to keep him safe. But he just slipped. And I dunno how anyone could survive a fall from that high up. You’d have to be super human or something.”

“The serum.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The serum!” she said again, hope rising in her voice. “Steve, the serum!”

“What about it?”

“Bucky has it! It’s in him like it’s in you!”

“He’s a super soldier?!”

“Yes! It happened when his unit got captured last year.”

“So he could have survived?!”

“He could have survived!”

“Well, where’s the tracker?! Let’s go!”

Y/N frowned.

“What? What is it?”

“The only tracker that stayed in the mountains went dead two minutes after your team went forward. It’s the only tracker that went off the radar.”

“We were pretty high up. Is it possible it just broke?”

“Let’s hope so.”

Two hours later, Peggy, Steve, and Y/N trekked through the snow in search of any signs of Bucky. Thousands of feet up in the air, Y/N could make out the train track. “I don’t get it,” she grumbled, her boot kicking at a patch of snow. “The coordinates are right here. So where is he?”

“Uh… Y/N?” Steve said, holding up two pieces of a black bracelet.

“My tracker…” she mourned the two broken pieces.

“But look at how it’s broken. It’s like someone snapped it in half. Buck wouldn’t have done that.”

“But whoever took him would,” Y/N said.

“But who took him?”

“I’ll give you two guesses.”

“But Hydra’s done. We won,” Steve said, not understanding.

Y/N shook her head, kicking at more snow as tears started to slide down her cheeks. “You said you were ambushed right? That they knew you were coming?”

“Yeah…”

“Steve, Hydra is more than just the Nazis. It’s everyone that opposes SHIELD. How many enemies besides the Nazis does America have?”

“So Buck could be anywhere?”

“Yes, and once news breaks of your mission, and with the war itself starting to end, any of the remaining Hydra heads are going to lay low.”

“And we can’t find Buck until we find Hydra. If he survives.”

“He’s a super soldier. If he managed to survive that fall, I’m sure Hydra will want to keep him alive as long as they can. Turn him into an asset they can exploit. Provided he doesn’t cause them any trouble.”

“Oh, it’s Buck. All he does is cause trouble,” Steve chuckled humorlessly before sighing. “I don’t know which reality I wanna live in. One where he’s dead. Or one where he's missing, and I don’t know how or when I’ll find him, or what he’ll be when I do.”

“I know,” she nodded, more tears falling down her face. “But at least when I believe he’s alive, there’s hope. And I need that hope, Steve.”

Steve pulled her in for a tight hug. Steve wanted to give her more reassurance, to tell her the truth about how Bucky felt about her, but he decided against it, understanding finally why Bucky had never said anything himself. He couldn’t bear the idea of breaking her heart more than it was already breaking. Likewise, Y/N wanted to give Steve his own reassurance. For him to know how much her heart was breaking for him because she knew how much Bucky meant to him, because he had meant just as much to her. But instead, she sniffled into Steve’s chest, his own tears dropping into her hair while he whispered, “We’ll find him. Somehow. We’ll find him,” on a loop as he held her to him, both of them mourning their friend.

~~~

1953

“Y/N!” Steve said loudly as he burst into the woman’s office, a wide grin on the captain’s face. “You’re gonna love me.”

“I think your wife might have a problem with that,” she teased, barely looking up from her work to acknowledge her friend.

He placed a folder down on her desk. “Just look at this, will you?”

She opened the folder, giving it a look through. “Hydra intel? Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

“Yep. They’re still staying low. Taking advantage of civil uprisings to eliminate threats to their cause.”

“Well, that’s certainly one way to go about being undetected. Where do we come in?”

“We’re the next threat. Or at least, Washington D.C. is. You in?”

“Who’s the team?”

“Right now? Just me.”

“Rogers…”

He raised his hands. “I know it sounds bad. But, a lot of people aren’t willing to believe Hydra’s behind the attacks. So it’s not an official mission we have any clearance on.”

Y/N waved the folder. “So this isn’t an official report? What is this then?”

“My own personal research,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“Rogers…”

“Look, I can’t explain it. I just have a feeling that I’m right.”

“So you want my help staking out the meeting at Capitol Hill next week on the feeling that Hydra might be plotting something?”

“Yes. You in?”

“You better not be wrong.”

A week later, Steve and Y/N stood watch, both of them silently hoping he was wrong, but also hoping he was right. For the first half hour, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The lull into the false sense of security before the sound of a bomb went off, sending everyone into panic mode.

Y/N crouched down, eyes scanning around for anything that didn’t fit the pattern of how a terrified citizen would act. “You see anything?” she spoke into her earpiece.

“There!” Steve’s voice shouted in her ear. “Long hair. Mask. Metal arm. Gun,” he rattled off the details.

“Location?!”

“Headed your way. Run!”

Y/N took off, eyes on the lookout for whoever Steve had described. “Run! Move!” she shouted as she pushed people aside. Gunfire rang out, and she felt a sharp white-hot pain in her chest as she took cover behind a car, her heartbeat drumming loudly in her ears. Applying pressure to the wound, she looked around for the shooter, hoping Steve was on his way to her.

She turned her head to the sound of a gun cocking, eyes going wide with fear as she spotted the person Steve had described, gun pointed her way.

She held her breath as the man took aim, then changed his mind as Steve came charging at him. With his metal arm, he threw a punch at Steve, who quickly threw up his shield to block it, the sound of metal hitting metal creating a loud clanking sound. Quickly, the man pushed the shield aside, kicking Steve in the chest, the action causing both men to fall backwards.

Y/N watched from her vantage point as the shooter pulled up his gun, shooting a rapid succession at Steve who curled up behind his shield, the bullets ricocheting off. Steve took advantage of the man pausing to reload to draw in closer. The shooter got in more shots, before Steve roundhouse kicked the gun free. Not missing a beat, the shooter pulled out another gun, firing off more shots that got deflected by the shield.

In another brief pause, Steve took a swing that the shooter dodged. Steve immediately came up swinging with the shield, which the shooter grabbed easily, both men trying to punch each other around it. Annoyed, the shooter grabbed onto the shield with his other hand, giving a sharp twist, flipping both Steve and the shield, leaving Steve defenseless. Y/N gasped, knowing she needed to get moving and help. “C’mon, c’mon,” she hissed, pressing her palm firmer into her wound, wishing she had a way to hold her shirt in place as a makeshift bandage.

Not caring, Steve raised his fists, both of them going back to exchanging blows until the metal arm connected solidly into his chest, knocking him backwards. Steve quickly rolled back to his feet before charging at the masked man again, who launched the shield. Steve twisted out of the way, the shield embedding itself into a car right behind him. Steve kept running, as his opponent freed a knife from his side, slashing at Steve’s punches. One of Steve’s punches got the man straight in the jaw. As the man grunted from the impact, Steve jumped to deliver a kick to the chest, knocking the assailant backwards. Wasting no time, Steve went in for another kick, his foot connecting again.

The blows however, did little to stop the other man as he came back at Steve. He threw a punch with the nonmetal arm that Steve grabbed onto and flipped the man onto his back. But in a swift blur, the man got up, the metal hand gripping tightly around Steve’s throat before throwing him.

Steve fell to the ground, gasping for air as the man kept coming. A punch that Steve narrowly missed shattered the asphalt. Somehow Steve got to his feet as his attacker pulled out another knife. Punches and knife slashes were deflected, as Steve lured the man closer to free his shield that was still lodged in the car.

Freeing the shield, Steve brought it in between where metal met flesh at the man’s shoulder, trying to cut the metal arm loose. When that didn’t work, Steve flipped the man in a backwards somersault, his mask clattering to the ground.

Everything froze for a terrible second, Steve’s chest heaving with exertion as the shooter rose to his feet, turning to face Steve. The captain’s eyebrows pulled together in stunned confusion, recognizing his opponent instantly. “Bucky?” he whispered, not sure if he wanted to believe what he was seeing.

Y/N decided it was now or never to provide Steve with much needed backup. Without being able to take pressure off her wound, she decided her only option was to somehow kick Bucky from behind. But she first had to get up somewhere high enough to land a kick where it would do the most damage. With a grunt and her free hand, she pulled herself up onto the roof of the car she’d been taking cover behind, Bucky right below her.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” the man asked, pulling a gun on Steve and taking aim. He was about to pull the trigger when Y/N jumped, kicking Bucky in the back of the head as she came down almost directly on top of him.

Bucky fell forward, rolling to his feet as Y/N landed on hers, preparing for him to turn his attention to her. Instead though, he kept his attention on Steve, scared confusion on his face. He pulled a grenade free, throwing it at Steve, and while both Steve and Y/N crouched to cover themselves with the small explosion, Bucky used the distraction to disappear.

“I knew it,” was all Y/N could say as she winced from the pain.

Steve rushed over to her, eyes full of worry as they took in the gunshot. “We should get that checked out.”

“And figure out how to get our Bucky back. Steve, that was exactly what I feared was going to happen when we didn’t find him.”

“I know. I know.”

“How though? Steve… he was only with Hydra a month before you rescued him last time. And it was bad. I don’t know how much you saw compared to what I did. But it wasn’t good. He had nightmares right up until you guys left for that last mission. A month had that kind of effect on him. Now we’re up against eight years. How do we bring him back from this?”

“What stopped me from becoming that?”

“The fact that we didn’t brainwash you of your humanity.”

“So, all we gotta do is tap into that humanity. I mean, did you see how he stopped once I realized it was him?”

“You mean how he threw a grenade at your head? How he shot me?”

“His humanity is still there, Y/N. We just have to get to it.”

“How?!”

“By using you.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Steve sighed. “I was never supposed to be the one to tell you this. He was. But Bucky liked you from the minute he met you. But he was adamant about not telling you he did until the war was over. Because he couldn’t bear the idea of something happening to him and it breaking your heart. He wanted to make sure he was safe first, able to give you stability in not worrying about him.”

“Well, he’s a fool, because I worried about him and my heart broke anyway.”

“He meant well. But, because of how he felt about you, I think you’re the answer to bringing him back.”

“How though, Steve? He looked right at me, and still tried to shoot me again.”

Steve sighed again. “You might hate me for this suggestion. But kiss him.”

“You want me to kiss the man who just tried to kill us both? Are you insane?!”

“It could work.”

“Like some fairytale? True love’s kiss breaks the spell? Only in this case the spell is eight years of brainwashing him into an obedient assassin?”

“Yeah, basically,” Steve nodded.

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “I thought we were friends, and here you are telling me to kiss the assassin who shot me, Rogers! Are you trying to get me killed?!”

“I’m only saying it might be our best bet at getting our Bucky back. But, if you’re not up for it, I understand. It’s a huge risk.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If I die kissing Bucky, I will haunt you for the rest of your days, Rogers,” she threatened.

Steve flashed her a charming smile. “I’ve been reliably informed that dying kissing Buck would be a heavenly way to go.”

It would take awhile to get Operation Fairytale going, as Y/N healed from her gunshot wound and Hydra had the smarts to go back to laying low.

All in all, it took about two months before Steve was bursting back into Y/N’s office with a wide smile. “Find him?” was all she asked.

“Yep,” Steve said, grinning wider. “You ready?”

“Let’s go.”

As they traveled to where Steve claimed he had found Bucky, he reminded her of what she was to do. “Keep your distance. You don’t wanna be on the receiving end of his regular arm, much less his metal one. But you have to get close enough at the same time. Something about using his name will start to draw him out, so use it a lot. Then you can probably get close enough to where he won’t actively want to hurt you.”

She nodded. “But you’ll be close by if your hunch doesn’t work?”

“As close as I can without tipping him off that I’m there, yes.”

“This plan is insane, you know that, right?”

“Why do you think it’s just me and you?”

She sighed, closing her eyes and taking a slow breath to steady herself. “Just don’t let me die, yeah?”

“That’s part of the plan.”

“Love that confidence…”

“Last chance to back out. I can try to tap into his humanity on my own. I already did it once. I just think you’d have a better chance at cracking into him than I do.”

“Just don’t let me die, Steve. Because one way or another we’re gonna get Bucky back. But if I die in the process, I don’t want it to have been for nothing.”

“That’s why keeping you alive is an important part of the plan.”

Both too soon and not soon enough, Y/N found herself face to face with Bucky. Well, face to back. “Bucky,” she called out, her voice soft and soothing. “Bucky, it’s Y/N. It’s me.”

The soldier turned, mask obscuring the lower half of his face, eyes cold blue steel as they regarded her. She silently cursed herself and Steve for forgetting about the mask. Another obstacle to figure a way around. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Yes, you do,” she said, taking a step forward. “You’re Bucky. And I’m Y/N. We know each other.”

“No, we don’t!” his voice rose, hands curling into fists at his sides.

Y/N dropped a hand to her side, ready to grab at her gun if she needed to. “I don’t want to fight you, Bucky. But I will if I have to.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky,” she taunted, fingers wrapping around the grip of her gun.

With a yell of frustration, Bucky advanced on her. In a swift motion, she freed the gun, firing off a few shots at him, stepping backwards as she did so.

He kept advancing, deflecting some of her shots with his metal arm, but one grazed across his ribs, causing him to hiss as blood splattered.

“I guess that makes us even?” she huffed as he stopped advancing, his fingers staining red as he brushed them against his wound, assessing the damage. “Stop now, and I won’t have to shoot you again.”

She couldn’t see the way his lips pulled aways from his teeth in a snarl, as he pulled a knife. Quickly he advanced, slashing out at her. “Really?!” she yelled angrily as she dodged and jumped backwards, trying to keep out of his arm’s reach. “You’re gonna try to stab me now, too?! James Buchanan Barnes!”

He gave an equally angry yell of his own, slashing at her faster with the knife. As he got within reach of her, she ducked down, sweeping out her leg to try and knock him off his feet. “It’s me, Bucky!” she screamed at him, each word a new attempt at a hit.

Whether it was her words finally getting to him or her taking an offensive position against him, Bucky stopped attacking back, putting all his efforts into blocking her blows. “Bucky!” she kept screaming, swiping at his face to knock off his mask. “You’re Bucky! Remember, damn it!”

“I don’t know who that is!” He grabbed her wrist in his hand before flinging her free, the strength sending her skiddering backwards.

“Yes, you do!” She lunged at him, tackling him to the ground, pinning his arms down with her knees. And knowing she had about a millisecond before he threw her off, she crushed her lips into his, putting as much emotion and power into it as possible.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and she braced herself for the impact of getting thrown like a ragdoll. But instead, the hand was pulling her in closer, Bucky’s lips moving to kiss her back. “Y/N,” he breathed against her mouth.

“It’s me. It’s me, Bucky,” she nodded, pulling away with a half laugh/half sob. “It’s me,” she repeated, sitting back on his chest.

“You shot me,” he coughed.

“You shot me first.”

“I didn’t know…” he told her, his breathing becoming erratic with fear and panic. “I didn’t know…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, cupping his face in her hands and brushing at the tears that started to spill. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

“Home,” he nodded as she climbed off of him and onto her feet, reaching a hand down to him. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

After a hesitant, then tearful reunion with Steve, Bucky recounted his time with Hydra as they all sat around Peggy and Steve’s house. Much like how his conversation had gone with Y/N when he recounted his first go at captivity, the words spilled out in a rush, his hands clenched tightly at his sides as he refused to meet anyone’s eye for too long.

“It was like the first time. But worse. As the serum worked with more of us, they had us start fighting each other. The electrocutions… They’d use this list of words to put us in this mindset where our only task is to cause hurt. Like complete mind control. And if we weren’t getting electrocuted, fighting each other, or doing their bidding, we were put in these states of sleep. It’s not an army they’re creating. They’re creating a new breed of assassins.”

“Well, they’re down one super assassin now,” Steve said, relief mixing with the deep concern of what Bucky’s news could mean for the future. “What happened to your arm? Was that them?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. Well… yes, but no. It happened when I was falling. I tried to grab anything to slow my fall, but I was going too fast. And then I was on my back in the snow. And then I wasn’t. And now I’m here.”

“You still wanna murder every last one them?” Y/N asked with a small smile.

Bucky raised his eyes to meet hers: haunted versus home. Slowly he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. So, I guess that makes us on the same side?”

“We were always on the same side, Bucky.”

He looked down at his side that sported a bandage under his shirt. “Plus or minus a few details anyway.” He scanned his eyes around the small house. “You got a spare bedroom here, Steve? Or anywhere I can lay down for a bit? Pretty tired.”

Steve nodded, but it was Y/N who stood up. “C’mon, I’ll show you,” she said.

“Y/N, you can grab him some clothes out of my closet. I think Buck and I are finally the same size.”

Bucky and Steve shared a laugh, as Bucky followed Y/N through the house to a bedroom. Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed as Y/N rummaged around in drawers, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for the man. “Bathroom’s through that door,” she pointed, handing him the clothes.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the clothes and disappearing into the bathroom to change. “Um, can I ask you something?” he asked her through the door.

“Sure.”

“Would you mind staying with me? I- I don’t want to be alone…”

“Stay with you like sleep in the bed with you?”

“Well you don’t have to sleep if you’re not tired. But yeah. If you don’t mind.” As he pulled the bathroom door open, she could see the traces of fear lingering in his haunted look.

“Yeah, I’ll lay with you.”

“Thanks. And um…” he rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. “C-can the light stay on?”

“Of course, Bucky. Whatever you need.”

“Just you,” he mumbled under his breath, but she heard him anyway, both of their cheeks flushing.

“When you wake up, maybe we can go out for that dance,” she teased as she crawled under the covers with him.

“Only if I can kiss you afterwards.”

“Or you could kiss me now.”

His breath caught as his fingers hooked under her chin, guiding her in for a kiss. “Thank you for not leaving me,” he whispered.

“I could never leave you, Bucky.”

__

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[shitty-marvel-fan732]

Hi can I request a peter parker x barnes-Rogers reader (steve and Bucky's daughter) and me and Peter find out I'm pregnant with Peter's baby and we try to keep it a secret but everyone is suspicious of us cause I've been really poorly lately and Peter is being overprotective and one day Peter accidentally says "don't do that it could hurt the baby" or "and everyone freaks out and me, Peter and my dads have a long talk but everything is fine thanks xx

Unexpected

Pairing: Peter Parker x Barnes-Rogers! Reader

Requested?: Yes!

Word count: Almost 7k

Warnings: Pregnancy, some angst but thats it I think?

Author's Note: Yessssss this was so fun to write! Very excited to be back to posting on this page again. Thank you so much for the request! Hope to start adding in more content soon, so if yall have any requests feel free to send them in! And if you have requests sent in already, know that I love you and I will be getting to clearing out my inbox here pretty soon 🥰

Taglist: @just-that-bi-girl , @winterfrostsarmy

---------------------------

In retrospect, the entire team should have realized what was going on with you a lot sooner. To their credit, most of them had noticed that something was different about you, but other than Nat and Wanda none of them had a guess as to what exactly that was. 

The men appeared completely clueless in respect to the cause of the recent changes in you. Even Clint, a married father of three, hadn't caught on even after he'd seen you leaving the bathroom having clearly just thrown up. Tony had been the closest to figuring it out of the all men, having noticed your odd mood swings and crying fits as they became more and more frequent. He noted the same behavioral pattern as he'd found himself stuck in after the Battle of New York, and secretly worried for your mental well-being. He hadn't felt comfortable enough to broach the topic with you just yet though, instead opting to watch you from a distance for the time being. 

The women, however, seemed to understand almost instantly what was going on. Nat had figured things out once she realized that you had been skipping training lately and noticed that you and Peter barely appeared to leave one another's sides for even a moment. Wanda based her guess almost solely upon the fact that she could just feel that something was different about you; your entire energy had changed in the last few weeks and she noted it even before Peter had. Both women had their suspicions, but had seemingly agreed to keep their thoughts to themselves until you were ready to tell the team what was going on. 

Your dads were a different story altogether. 

It took Steve and Bucky much longer to notice something had changed with their daughter, Steve longest of all. Either you'd done a great job of avoiding your Pops or he'd been incredibly unobservant (or more likely both), but he hadn't seen anything that he would've considered out of the ordinary for you. 

That is, until today. 

"AAAAUUUUUUGGGGH"

Steve was on his feet in an instant, sprinting into the kitchen at the sound of your enraged scream. He skidded to a stop and surveyed the room with a trained look for the source of danger, but found none. In fact, you and Sam were the only two in the space as far as he could tell. Sam's back was pressed snugly against the furthermore countertop as you practically cornered him, the older man clearly caught off guard by your sudden burst of rage. You flung your hands around wildly as you yelled, one gripping a box so tightly that your knuckles were beginning to turn a concerning shade of white.

Completely bewildered, Steve watched in stunned silence for moment as you fumed and screamed expletives at the slightly-terrified looking Sam, without any clear indication as to what had happened. 

"I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE YOU, YOU GODDAMNED ASSHO-"

"Y/N Barnes-Rodgers!" Steve scolded you finally, momentarily stopping your verbal assault. "What in God's name is going on here?" 

Your eyes turned to your Pops' briefly before flickering back to glare in Sam's direction. 

"Pigeon-brain ate the last of my oreos," you seethed, walking forward and jabbing an accusatory finger to Sam's chest, his hands instantly flying upwards in surrender.

 Steve felt his jaw drop in utter disbelief.

“You-,” 

“What’s with all the commotion in here?” Bucky interrupted, striding into the kitchen much as Steve had moments ago and joining his husband's side with a confused look on his face. Steve crossed his arms and frowned at their daughter. 

“Apparently our daughter is screaming at Sam because he ate her cookies.” your Pops explained tersely.

“Not cookies, oreos,” you muttered, glare never wavering from Sam. You furiously threw the offending empty package roughly at his still bewildered face in lieu of another expletive. Sam was evidently so bewildered, in fact, that he didn't even flinch as the box hit his head and bounced pathetically to the floor. 

Bucky raised his eyebrow. 

“And that’s why you’ve been screaming like that?” he confirmed. You nodded, arms crossing your chest stubbornly. 

Bucky shrugged, looking towards his husband with a look of indifference. “Makes sense.”

“No, it absolutely does not make sense,” Steve lightly scolded, glancing at Bucky with a pointed look before returning his gaze to you. “Y/N you’re completely overreacting. Apologise to Sam right now.”

Your mouth dropped open, and you gaped at your dads with an expression that was equal parts betrayal and rage. 

“No.”

“No?” Steve repeated incredulously. He stared at you with disbelief, looking between you and Bucky like he was hoping he’d somehow misheard you. You met his glance with an equally stubborn look as you planted your feet solidly beneath you and tightened the cross of your arms. “What do you mean, no?”

“You heard me,” you spat, unwavering. 

Sam merely looked confused as he watched the two of you argue, if albeit still a bit scared, but Bucky was sure his shock was evident on his face. You never back-sassed your Pops, not even when you were really angry, and Bucky only felt his disbelief grow at the prospect that your attitude was all due to a few cookies. 

"Y/N, you don't get to tell me no," Steve ground out carefully, voice stern with a rare sort of parental authority he seldom had to use with you. In fact, Bucky was pretty sure he hadn't actually heard him use this particular tone since way back when you were a toddler testing the limits of your dads' patience. But unlike your three-year-old self, you didn't back down at your Pops' disapproving tone; in fact, you met his intense stare with a flippant roll of your eyes, deepening your dad's shock at your abrupt behavioral shift. 

"He fucking knows what he did, everyone knows those oreos are mine," you snapped, eyes alight with a kind of fury the likes of which your dads had never seen from you before. 

"Language!" Steve gasped at his daughter, his authoritative tone giving way to a spluttering one of complete disbelief. 

"FUCK OFF!" you shouted instantly. 

"HEY!"

Bucky had officially had enough. Irritation blossomed deep within his chest at the hurt he saw wash through his husband's eyes at your vulgar screech. Teenaged angst was one thing, but it was entirely another to blatantly disrespect Steve like you were. He still didn't know what was really causing you to act like this--because no way in hell could this be all over some oreos-- but he'd definitely passed the point where he even cared. 

"Doll, that’s enough. Clearly you're upset, but you cannot speak to your Pops like that," he practically growled. You turned your attention to your dad with the same kind of indignant irritation in your eyes, a flash of fresh anger rolling across your face at the sight of Bucky's equally irate expression. 

"You can fuck off too," you spat.

 Bucky's jaw clenched dangerously, the muscle in his cheek jumping and twitching as he took in his daughter's crass retort. Sam had long since left the scene, the nearly suffocating tension officially too much for him to take. Steve's eyes went wide for what felt like the millionth time since he'd first walked into the kitchen. If he hadn't known something was wrong before, he undoubtedly did now. 

You may not disobey him often, but you never snapped at Bucky. 

Steve had long since accepted that, though you loved the two of them the same, you'd always liked Bucky more. A daddy's girl from birth, you and Bucky had always been inseparable-- so for you to now scream and curse at him like this was like a flaming-red flag in Steve's mind. 

Something was definitely wrong. 

"Excuse me?" Bucky hissed. The two of you faced one another, arms crossed and expressions grim. You planted your feet even more solidly underneath you, staring your dad down with a fury so intense it was almost palpable. If it weren't for the overall tension of the situation, Steve might've teased the two of you for your near-mirrored positions. 

"Y/N? What's going on, I thought I heard yelling?" Peter asked as he practically skidded into the kitchen. He immediately joined you, face morphing into a look of utter concern at the sight of yours and Bucky's standoff. Steve braced himself, mentally apologizing to Peter for the verbal assault that was surely coming his way. 

But it never came. 

It was as if all the unwarranted anger was sucked from your body in a rush as soon as you caught sight of your boyfriend. Your face crumpled into an anguished expression, and Steve could see how the tears welled up in your eyes instantaneously. Peter clicked his tongue in pity and you thrust yourself instantly into his awaiting arms. He gripped you tightly, and you eagerly buried yourself further into his embrace. Face smashed tightly against his chest, you began to sob uncontrollably.

Your dads gaped at the scene, wide-eyed. 

"S-sam ate my oreos a-and now everyone's mad at me, and I j-just wanted my snack!" you all but wailed, voice muffled by Peter's body. 

Bucky blinked once as he turned to his husband, total confusion written all over his features. Steve just gaped in response, unable to formulate a semi-coherent thought, let alone words. 

"Oh angel, it's okay," Peter cooed softly into your hair, hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly as you continued to cry. "I can go and get you more oreos; don't cry Y/N/N, I'll just run down to the store right now to get you some."

Lifting your head from his chest, you seemed slightly placated and hopeful as you sniffled and looked up at him. 

"C-can I come with you?" you asked him shyly, tear-stained cheeks turning a slight shade of pink at your childish request. Peter smiled fondly down at you, clearly happy to see that you were feeling better. 

"Of course, it'll be nice to walk with you," he smiled sweetly at you and lightly kissed your nose. You giggled as you removed yourself from his embrace before walking over to your dads. 

"M'sorry I shouted daddys. Love you guys!" you apologized in a chipper voice before kissing both of the men's bewildered cheeks. 

The two supersoldiers both stood in stunned silence as they watched you leave hand in hand with Peter, who briefly shot them an apologetic look before the pair were gone. Steve thought he heard Peter mumbling something to Y/N as they left, but the only words he could pick out were "not good to get so worked up", which only confused him further. 

"What in the hell was that?" Bucky grumbled, face still crinkled with bewilderment. Steve simply shook his head. 

"I have absolutely no idea. I've never seen her behave like that, have you?"

"Nothing like that, but she was acting funny the other day too," he frowned, recalling the scene he'd walked in on just a few days prior. "She was full out sobbing on the couch a few days ago over a toilet paper commercial."

Steve gaped at his husband. 

"Sh-she...what?"

"Doll have you seen your Pops? I can't find him any-"

Bucky's question died in his throat as soon as he hit the threshold of the TV room. You were curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees as sobs racked through you. Peter sat next to you with his eyes crinkled in concern and hands rubbing gently at your shoulders as you cried. 

"Y/N what's wrong, why are you crying?" Bucky asked. Feeling his protective instincts kick in instantly,  he couldn't help but search the room with his eyes in search of any danger. Finding nothing, he narrowed his eyes at your boyfriend.

"Did he do something?" Bucky demanded. "Parker I swear to God if you hurt her I-" 

"What? N-no I didn't do anything Mr. Bucky I swear!" Peter spluttered, eyes widening in fear at the terrifying look in your dad's eyes. 

"Bullshit, then why's she crying like that? Of course you did someth-"

"N-no it's not P-peter dad!" you interrupted tearfully. "There was an ad on TV that just made me emotional okay? You know, the one with the boy crying in the bathroom and his dad offers him toilet paper for his tears?"

There was a beat of silence. 

"Doll, you really mean to tell me that you're sobbing over a toilet paper ad?" Bucky asked, brows furrowed in disbelief. You sniffled as you nodded, and fresh tears began to pick your eyes once more. 

"Yes! I mean it's just so inspiring," you blubbered. "I mean how often do you actually get to see a teenaged boy cry on TV? Never, cause toxic masculinity standards in this stupid patriarchal society we all live in say otherwise! And not only does the dad accept that his son is crying and is allowed to feel real emotions, he sits down to talk with him about them! I just got so happy thinking about all the little boys who will see this ad and feel the validation that they're normal for feeling sad every once in a while!"

Bucky just stared at his daughter with a blank look for a moment; he looked like he was unable to formulate a single response to the information he'd just been given. 

"Well that's...uh….that's great I gue-"

"I can't believe you would just assume that me crying just had to be because of something Peter did," you interrupted, angrily brushing the leftover tears from your face. "It's so unfair, you always blame him for everything!"

"I-uh," Bucky stammered, flustered by the sudden change in your emotions. You scoffed and stood quickly from your spot in Peter's embrace, crossing your arms petulantly. 

"It's true dad, you're always looking for something to yell at him for! It's so biased and unfair," you practically yelled. "Honestly it's such prejudiced bullshit. Some kind of outdated 'lock up your daughters' rhetoric that I can't believe yo…"

At some point during your impassioned speech you began stomping away from both your dad and Peter while still ranting. As your shouts became fainter and fainter Bucky found himself directing his dumbfounded expression at Peter instead. In a rare show of solidarity with your boyfriend, Bucky silently begged for an explanation as to what on earth had just happened. 

Despite the way his heart was hammering wildly in his chest Peter remained silent. He offered only a passive shrug to your dad before he clambered to his feet and began following after you. If Bucky hadn't been caught so off guard he surely would've been suspicious at the visible sweat that was beading on Peter's forehead and the way the young boy's hands trembled as he quickly left the room, the question of what was causing your mood swings laying thickly unanswered in the air. 

"What the fu-"

"She...a toilet paper ad? Really?"

"Yep, a friggin' toilet paper commercial," Bucky nodded solemnly. Steve blinked once, shaking his head. 

"So what did you do?" he asked incredulously. 

"Nothin'," Bucky shrugged. "She was so damned worked up that I figured she needed some space, and by the time I went to talk to her she'd already seemed completely fine. Thought it wasn't worth upsetting her all over again."

Steve snorted. 

"Yeah right, you were just too scared you would make her mad again," he chuckled. 

"Hell yeah I was," Bucky admitted freely, crossing his arms and shooting his husband a defiant expression. "You've seen her, you know how terrifying she can be when she's pissed!"

Steve chuckled once more, shaking his head fondly. 

"Mmmm, and I wonder where she got that from."

Bucky narrowed his eyes and scowled at the implication, a surly look overtaking his features. Steve couldn't help but laugh outright at the expression on his husband's face; it was the exact same face you always made when you were annoyed, right down to the little pout in your lip. 

"For the last time Stevie, she doesn't get that from me," he grumbled. 

"Sure Buck, whatever you say," Steve laughed. 

Though your odd behavior and mood swings were at least now on both your dads' radar, neither had any clue as to the actual reason for your sudden changes. The pair of them chalked up the incidents to little more than teenaged angst, however they had no idea how wrong they were nor just how soon they were about to find out what was really going on. 

---------------------------

"I don't understand Y/N," Steve stated carefully. "Why exactly don't you want to go with the team?"

You shifted your weight from foot to foot anxiously, huffing out a breath in mock annoyance and very real frustration. 

You'd been in the training room, lightly working out with Nat and Wanda when your Pops and Tony had walked in to announce that there was an urgent mission that apparently would require the entire team. Internally cursing your timing, you'd tried to sneak out of the room unnoticed, but as your luck would have it, your dad caught you. Now you were stuck arguing with your dads, the attention and curiosity of everyone in the gym directed at you. 

Your heart was thrumming wildly in your chest as you furiously racked your brain for some way, any way, out of this assignment and this conversation without an actual reason. 

Well, a reason you were actually willing to give, that is.

"Why does it even matter?" you snapped, hoping that no one clocked the tremor in your voice. "It's not like you guys even need me anyways."

"Doll, you always jump at the chance to come with us," your dad interjected. "So what's so different about today?"

"I just don't want to," you whined, lying through your teeth. "I'm tired and I don't feel good."

"But you were literally just training?" Sam pointed out. You narrowed your eyes at him, irritation bubbling under the surface of your anxiety at the contradiction. The older man shrank back a bit under your firey gaze, the previous incident in the kitchen clearly prominent in his mind as he stepped behind Wanda. 

Clint snorted. 

"If you could even call that training," he mumbled under his breath. Your jaw dropped. 

"What is this, gang up on Y/N day?!" you sassed as your arms flew to cross your chest defensively. Your Pops shook his head. 

"We're just worried Y/N/N," he reassured, brows furrowed with concern. "You've been behaving very strangely lately, and this is just one more thing."

"Yeah doll," Bucky nodded, agreeing with his husband. "So what gives?"

Your pulse sped up once more at the direct question, a sickening feeling rising in your throat like bile at the realization of just how suspicious your dads were. Unable to think clearly through your panic, you did the only thing you could think of. 

You scoffed in fake disbelief, rolled your eyes, and began stomping out of the room. 

"Y/N Barnes-Rodgers!" your dad shouted in an indignant and angered tone. "We are not done talking about this!" 

Damn. 

"What?!" you whirled around, stomping your foot like a child. "I just don't want to go this time okay?"

Bucky's face turned red at your open defiance, but Steve interrupted before he could even open his mouth to snap back at you. 

"No Y/N it's absolutely not okay," he scolded. You felt the burn of unshed tears prick your eyes as they searched desperately around the room, mind racing to think of an excuse that would get you out of this situation. 

"But-"

"No, no buts Y/N," your dad barked, clearly having composed himself enough to speak once more. His arms were crossed as he glared at you, and the stubbornly annoyed look on his face was enough to make the tears in your eyes begin to fall. A feeling of utter entrapment and fear settled in your chest like a suffocating weight as you felt the hot, fresh tears stream down your cheeks. 

"Doll, are you crying?" your Pops questioned incredulously. "What on earth is going on with you?"

"Nothing! I just can't go today," you blubbered, past the point of being able to hold back your sobs. 

"You can't go, or you won't go?" Bucky asked pointedly, evidently not swayed by your tears. 

"It doesn't matter," you cried desperately. Your dad's eyes bored into yours directly as if he was searching your brain to find out what you were holding back from him. 

"It clearly does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be acting like this," he continued harshly. "I'm not sure what it is you aren't telling us, but I don't even care at this point. Stark said he needs everyone and your Pops told you to go, so you need to get yourself together and go and get ready."

The tears were now cascading down your face in giant streams and your face was growing warmer by the second. You darted your gaze back and forth between the other team members' faces, still searching for some kind of last minute way out of this situation. Finding only curious or concerned expressions, you turned back to your dads with wide eyes. You felt your mouth go dry as your lips open and closed wordlessly, the severity of your current predicament weighing you down more and more by the second. 

"I-"

"No. I don't want to hear another word from you Y/N," your dad snapped. "Go and get ready for the mission now."

"But she can't go!"

Time stopped for a split second as the entire room's heads snapped towards the desperate shout.

Peter had only just entered the training room, wondering where everyone was, when he caught the tail end of your dad's order. He couldn't help but blurt the first thing that'd come to mind, the implication of which only dawned on him afterwards. As he rushed to your side he shot you a sheepish look, and you internally cringed a bit at his slip. 

Even though you were certain Peter's involvement would only further reduce your already slim chances of getting out of this mission without a full confession of what was really going on, you couldn't help but feel an inkling of relief as his eyes locked with yours. His hand immediately intertwined itself with yours once he'd reached you, and your belly fluttered with a warm tinge of comfort with the simple touch.

True, things were probably about to go sideways for the both of you, but at least Peter was here to go through it by your side. 

"Excuse me Parker?" your dad spat incredulously, eyes blazing with anger at your boyfriend's outburst. "I don't recall asking you for your opinion on my daughter or what she can or can't do."

Peter stood a little taller as he looked Bucky straight in the eyes with an unprecedented amount of determination. 

"She can't go." he practically growled, eyes stern and unyielding as he openly defied your dad. He was standing a half-step in front of you, tense back partially shielding you from the rest of the team as he spoke.

 Even with his face turned the opposite direction you could see from his profile the way his brows were furrowed and how dark his normally chocolate brown eyes had gotten. You felt a slight shiver run up your spine at the fiercely protective energy Peter was radiating, and your heart felt a bit lighter at the way he stood up to your dad on your behalf. You squeezed his hand in an effort to ground him, and he softened marginally as he glanced back at you.

Your dad however looked as if he might combust soon based on the way his eyes bulged out and his face turned a concerning shade of red. 

"What's that supposed to mean Peter?" Steve interjected carefully, his hand reaching up to rest comfortingly on his husband's shoulder. 

"It means exactly what we said," Peter said firmly. "Y/N cannot go on this mission today."

The team watched the interaction between you, Peter, and your dads with their heads bouncing back and forth between the four of you like they were watching a tennis match. Not a word had been uttered from a single one of them, and yet they stood completely transfixed as they waited patiently to see the outcome of the argument. 

"And why, pray tell, is that Parker?" your dad hissed, scowl etched across his features. 

Peter's eyes traveled to yours, irises swimming with a silent question. Realizing that there was no way out, you took a steadying breath as you nodded softly and squeezed his hand once more in reassurance. Peter smiled at you fondly before dropping his smile and turning back to your parents. 

"She can't go because...it could be bad for the baby."

You could've heard a pin drop in the training room. No one made a sound, no one even dared to breathe. The shock in the room was palpable, but you couldn't be bothered to even glance at anyone other than your dads, their reactions the only two that mattered to you in this moment. 

Though you'd expected a rather explosive reaction from your parents (especially from your dad), you were met instead with blank stares. Your dads were simply staring at you and Peter in stunned silence, and their lack of a response actually frightened you more than the screaming you'd been anticipating for weeks now. The beat of silence seemed to stretch on eternally, though in reality it was probably no more than thirty seconds. You watched nervously, your hand becoming sweaty in Peter's as you waited. Finally, your Pops blinked and opened his mouth cautiously. 

"Bad for the wha-"

"I SWEAR TO GOD PARKER THAT'D BETTER BE SOME KIND OF DISGUSTING PET NAME FOR MY DAUGHTER."

Ahhh. There it was. 

Your dad had clearly broken through his frozen thoughts enough to respond, and you would've laughed if you weren't so terrified. He looked positively furious; his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them and his face had darkened from red to an almost purple color that looked painful to say the least. His murderous gaze was hyper-fixated on Peter, and you couldn't help but step in front of your poor boyfriend in an effort to take some of the heat off him. 

Peter, evidently, was having none of that, and he frowned before pulling you backwards and tucking you into his side tightly. If you hadn't been so focused on your dad right now you might've rolled your eyes at his over-protectiveness. Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of his embrace as you took a steadying breath. 

"It's not," you responded as calmly as you could manage while your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your throat. "I'm pregnant."

Silence enveloped the room once more, and you could've sworn it was even more awkward than the first time. It must've been, because you could see Nat and Wanda ushering the rest of the team out of the gym out of the corner of your eye. You weren't quite sure if you were grateful for the privacy or more scared of how your dads would react now that you were alone.

Your dads stared at you and Peter with wildly different expressions. Steve was staring off into space and looking as if he was either going to throw up or pass out soon, and Bucky still looked as if he was about a half a second away from murdering Peter with his bare hands. To his credit, Peter was still standing by your side with the same look of determination as before despite this, but you could feel the way his pulse was hammering through his veins as he too carefully surveyed your dads' reactions.

You stood quietly, trying to be patient as you watched them, but the suspense and anticipation quickly became overwhelming and you couldn't help but blurt,

"Say something!"

Though both their gazes snapped up to your face with your plea, yet neither your dad nor you Pops said anything. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to explain yourself. 

"I know that you're probably in shock or angry or maybe both- and honestly that's completely fair!" You rambled breathlessly. "I know we're still only eighteen, but I really think everything's gonna be okay? Really, I do. And I'm so sorry about today, believe me this isn't how we planned on telling you at all bu-"

"You're not coming on the mission," Steve interrupted, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "Nor is Peter. Your dad and I will be back later, and we're all going to have a long discussion."

It felt like all the air was sucked out of your body as you watched your Pops pull your dad towards the training room exit. You hadn't been fully sure of just how you were going to tell them, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine that it would come out like this. Tears once more welling up in your eyes, your heart sank as you realized just how disappointed and angry they were. 

"I love you," your voice cracked as you called to their retreating forms, unable to bear the sight of them leaving without reminding them. They both paused in the doorway, and without turning back both muttered that they loved you too before they were gone. 

As soon as they left you immediately twisted yourself and thrust your face into Peter's chest, the tears flowing steadily as you sobbed. He wrapped his arms tightly around your shaking form, lips finding the crown of your head and hands rubbing soothingly across your back. 

"Th-they hate me now," you whispered brokenly into Peter's soft hoodie in between sobs. "They hate me Pete, they're n-never going to forgive me for this!"

Peter shushed you quietly, gentle lips kissing your hair as he began to sway you back and forth slowly. 

"They don't hate you angel," he soothed. "They're just surprised. Disappointed in the timing maybe, but they'll get over it. I promise."

"I never wanted it to go like this," you cried as you pulled your head from his chest slightly. Peter's hands left your back for a moment to come and rest on either of your cheeks. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before retreating upwards to look deep into your eyes. 

"I know you didn't sweet girl, but it did," he said gently as he brushed away some of your tears with the pads of his thumbs. "It did and it's going to be okay. We'll talk to your dads when they get back and clear everything up. And no matter what, you and I are going to get through this together, okay?"

You sniffled softly, nodding sadly. Peter's eyes were swimming with guilt and dejection at the sight of the empty expression on your face. He didn't know how to comfort you in this situation, but it was like every molecule in his body was demanding he do so. He leaned down once more to press a loving kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips. 

You sighed, head retreating back to his chest once your lips disconnected. Sadness was still swirling in your stomach and you just longed for the feeling that being in Peter's arms brought. He seemed to understand perfectly- as he always did- pressing his cheek to the top of your head and wrapping his arms tightly around you without a word. The two of you stood there for a while, bodies entangled as you continued lightly swaying back and forth. Peter's hands continued to roam up and down your spine and your tears began to slow and dry. 

Eventually you hummed, stepping back and up on your toes to press an appreciative kiss to Peter's face. He smiled as a faint pink tinted his cheeks at your display of affection. You giggled, slightly amazed that even after everything you two had done, something as simple as a peck on the cheek could still make him blush.

"Thank you," you said quietly, looking up into his eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at you in confusion. 

"For staying with me through all that. I mean it's you, so I wasn't really worried...but my dad can be really frightening. So thanks," you half joked. 

Peter chuckled lightly as he pulled you back into his arms once more. 

"Of course angel. Told you, I'm never going to leave you. Even if your dad is super scary. You two are stuck with me now. I'm never ever going to leave you or our baby," he vowed quietly into your hair as his hands reached down to rub the small but growing bump in your tummy lovingly. "We're gonna get through this all together, as a family."

You felt tears well up in your eyes once more, but this time out of sheer love and happiness.

 Damned hormones. 

"You're gonna be such a good daddy Peter," you whispered gratefully. Hearing the slight crack in your voice, Peter pulled you away from his chest gently to wipe your tear stained cheeks once more. 

"Hey now, no more tears today," he scolded playfully as he tugged you across the room. "When's the last time you ate something? We have the whole kitchen to ourselves now, and I bet my babies are hungry!"

You chuckled lightly as you allowed him to pull you along with him towards the kitchen. All the while, he chattered happily about the new article he'd just read about the specific nutritional needs pregnant women have, and your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. You were still apprehensive about the upcoming conversation with your dads, but you were definitely feeling better. As much as their approval and involvement would mean to you, you'd come to the conclusion that as long as you had Peter by your side everything would work out alright. 

Somehow.

---------------------------

"Petey, are you sure you don't need any-"

"No! Nope. I've got this," your boyfriend interrupted stubbornly. You signed, hand absentmindedly rubbing across your swollen stomach as you watched him struggle with the latch on the new crib the two of you were setting up. 

Well, the crib that Peter was setting up. 

It'd been a few months since the team had found out about the newest upcoming addition to the Tower, and you'd decided that it was time to begin decorating the nursery. Tony, of course, had offered to have someone come in to do all the heavy lifting, but Peter was insistent that he be the one to set everything up. His protectiveness over you and the rapidly growing child you were carrying had only increased as the months went on, so much so that you were lucky now if he'd even let you stand for long enough to watch him put the baby's furniture together. It was endearing, really, how much he cared for the two of you, but you'd be lying if you said that you weren't becoming a little frustrated with how little you could do to help. 

"Really Peter, I can help," you grumbled, annoyed. "I'm pregnant, not disabled."

"Of course you could help angel, but I don't need help," he grunted, eyes never leaving the mass of parts around him. "You already have to do all the work of growing and housing our baby, the least I can do is build the crib!"

"Housing?" you teased, quirking an eyebrow.

"You know what I meant," he grumbled, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his growing frustration. 

Peter was clearly losing his grip just a bit as he struggled to make sense of the instructions that had been provided with the pieces. He sighed, throwing the pamphlet down on the ground before trudging over to where you stood, leaning against the changing table that he'd put together a few days ago. 

"I've engineered web-fluid from absolutely nothing, re-built computers from scratch and yet I can't even manage to put this stupid bed together," he whined as he dropped his head down onto your shoulder in defeat. "M'gonna be a terrible father."

"Ohhh bubs," you cooed sympathetically, smile falling quickly and heart lurching at the tone of pure dejection in his voice. 

You wrapped your arms around him, one snaking around his back and the other cradling his head. Your fingers began instantly carding through his chocolate-brown locks as he nuzzled his nose lightly into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His hands wound their way around your waist too- or as well as they could with your round tummy in the way- and his own hands began absentmindedly tracing patterns over your bump.

"Peter you have to know that isn't true," you soothed, kissing his cheek softly. "You're going to be an amazing dad."

He hummed non-commitally. 

"You think you're not?" you challenged, fingers halting their dance against his scalp. "Do the thing."

He raised his head from your shoulder, brows furrowed in confusion. 

"What does that have to do with-"

"Do the thing," you interrupted sternly. He sighed and knelt down, grumbling inaudible complaints as he went. Once he was face to face with your bump he placed his hands on either side, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your stretched-out skin.

"Hi baby, it's me, your daddy," he spoke softly into your stomach, lips so close that you shivered with each breath that ghosted over your clothed belly. "I love you so much."

The baby responded instantly at the sound of Peter's voice, feet jabbing out and kicking excitedly from within just underneath where his hands lay. You felt your heart skip a beat at both the feeling the movement in your belly and the sight of the dopey smile that lit up Peter's handsome face as he felt his child's kicks. You rubbed over his hands lovingly and smiled down at him.

"See bubs? He starts throwing a party in there every time you do that. He loves you so much already, that's not gonna change," you reassured him softly. Peter's smile dropped just a little. 

"But the crib-"

"Fuck the crib," you responded stubbornly. "You are the most caring, sweetest, and most thoughtful person I know Peter. You're going to be the world's best dad."

"Whoa whoa, believe we're the ones with the mugs that claim that title," a voice chuckled from the doorway. 

You smiled fondly, eyes darting to find the sight of your Pops leaning casually against the frame of the door with your dad standing just behind him. Both had amused smiles on their faces, and you grinned widely. Even Peter smiled as he rose to his feet and wrapped one of his arms around your back to pull you into his side. 

"Okay, third best dad in the world then," you amended, grinning. 

"That's better," your dad piped up, smiling. "Now what's this I hear about a faulty crib? Sam said he can hear Peter cursing all the way from his room."

Peter groaned, tilting his head backwards in exasperation as you laughed out loud. 

"It isn't faulty, I'm just an idiot," Peter grumbled. Everyone but him chuckled, and your dad walked further into the room. He clapped a hand on Peter's back as he grinned at the younger man. 

"Normally I'd agree with you, but I know if I do Steve will bring up how Y/N had to sleep in the bassinet for like 6 months because we couldn't figure out how to put her crib together."

"You mean you couldn't figure it out," your Pops snorted from his place in the doorway. "As I recall, I was not allowed to help with the furniture because you were determined to figure it out on your own."

Bucky shrugged, seemingly indifferent to his husband's insinuation. 

"Whatever. Point is, I wanted to see if you wanted some help putting it together. Thought I might be able to give you some tips," your dad continued. Peter's smile widened, and he nodded eagerly before your dad knelt down to help try and make sense of the directions.

The discussion after the incident in the training room had gone much better than you would've ever imagined. Both your dads had been relatively calm once they'd returned from their mission, and surprisingly there had been no screaming, no crying, and no threats towards Peter from Bucky like you'd been picturing. The four of you had sat down together and had a long, mature discussion of what your plans were in terms of raising and caring for your child, and by the end your dads had even seemed enthusiastic about the prospect of being grandparents. Their involvement and excitement had only grown in the following months to the point now that you felt silly for ever having been frightened to tell them. 

And now as you stood watching your boyfriend and dad work together to put your child's room together, tears began collecting in your eyes and you felt your chest warm with feelings of overwhelming love. Steve, noticing your tears, moved to wrap his arms around you and you leaned your head against his shoulder. Rubbing your belly lovingly, you couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over you for the men in your life and love for the little one that you'd all be meeting soon. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Sufficiently strong emotionally-charged moments of physical contact can occasionally forge long-term telepathic bonds between cultivators. These bonds are usually based on positive emotions like familial or romantic love, or deep feelings of friendship, but the emotions don’t necessarily have to be positive to forge a bond. Wei Wuxian is very upset to find out that punching Jin Zixuan in the face apparently counts as a sufficiently strong emotionally-charged moment of physical contact.

on ao3

Wei Wuxian had been obsessed with the idea of a resonant bond ever since he first learned about it.

Sure, it was a rarity. It was easier for a cultivator to find a friend, a lover, or even a soulmate than it was for them to create a resonant bond, which required not merely liking or understanding or even love but rather a single moment in time in which two cultivators were on exactly the same wavelength.

Their cultivation strength, their frame of mind, the state of their bodies, the exact way in which they touched – in that one moment, everything would be exactly the same, and the Heavens would forget for that brief moment to see the two as separate, like two separate raindrops merging into one before the moment passed, some difference introduced, and they were broken apart into separate beings again. Yet even after they separated, they would irrevocably retain some aspects of the other, a connection that generally manifested, it was said, as a mental bond that could not be broken, a tie that would keep them bound together no matter the distance.

Such a thing could not be worked towards, only hoped for; it was a matter of luck.

Wei Wuxian had never wanted anything more in his life.

The thought of never being alone again – it enticed him, it excited him. Jiang Cheng could wrinkle his nose in distaste at the idea that he might not be alone in his mind anymore, that someone would see all the stupid or terrible things he sometimes thought, but to Wei Wuxian that was the best part: that someone would see you and know you and you would see and know them, too. To have someone to accompany you through the best and worst moments of your life, always at your side…

To never fear abandonment, to never need to worry about someone going out only for a little and then never coming back.

It would be amazing.

That was what Wei Wuxian thought.

Well, that was what he thought right up until he punched Jin Zixuan in the face for insulting his shijie, his whole heart burning at the unfairness of adults who didn’t understand, at other boys who didn’t appreciate what they had, at everything all around them and at his own weakness in not being able to do more, and something just –

Clicked.

-

“Hey, wake up! Wake up! Are you all right?”

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes, only to be assaulted with what felt like double vision. Above him were Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang, hovering and looking anxious, and from the corner of his eye he could see Lan Wangji, who he so enjoyed teasing, was sweeping over to them with a grim expression – and yet at the same time he thought he could perceive different faces above him as well.

Three young men and two women, all looking down at him with smiles like sharks, ready to devour. Each one of them draped in the gold they lusted to take from his hands –

What the fuck? Wei Wuxian thought groggily. How did I end up on the ground?

Good question. I didn’t think I got punched that hard.

Wait, Wei Wuxian thought. Hold up, I got punched? I didn’t even see the peacock lift his fists!

…Wei Wuxian? Is that – you?

Wei Wuxian’s eyes went wide when he realized he hadn’t said any of that out loud, that to judge from Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang’s chatter they hadn’t heard either him nor the other voice. Which meant that the voice had to be...in his head. Is this – this is a resonant bond. We formed a resonant bond!

Shit, Jin Zixuan thought, because it was Jin Zixuan, wasn’t it? Shit, shit, shit. Please don’t say anything about this to anyone!

What? Why?

Please!

Wei Wuxian hadn’t even known that the peacock knew that word.

Fine, he said, feeling generous on account of the whole bond business. I won’t tell. For now.

“Wei-xiong?” Nie Huaisang asked, looking worriedly fretful. “Are you all right? You haven’t said anything.”

“I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his head and trying to think of a lie to explain why he fell over like that. “I think the peacock must’ve had a talisman or a defensive weapon or something. Whatever it is, I’m fine now.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re all right,” Jiang Cheng said, looking deeply relieved. And then, a moment later – “Because I’m going to kill you - !”

There wasn’t too much time to talk after that. Wei Wuxian was sentenced to kneeling, and then his Uncle Jiang arrived and Sect Leader Jin arrived – oh no, oh no, oh no, I fucked up, Jin Zixuan thought hopelessly, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but feel a bit of the same – and the next thing Wei Wuxian knew, the engagement between Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli was broken and he was being sent to pack up his things, to be taken home at once.

Jin Zixuan was swept away by his father, too.

“A pity about the engagement,” Sect Leader Jin remarked idly as they walked together. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have said such a thing. Your mother will be disappointed.”

Wei Wuxian could feel the way that that jabbed at Jin Zixuan’s heart like a stab with a sword.

“Still, it’s no harm,” the man continued, indifferently ignoring the impact his words had had on his son. “One could even call it a gain! You won’t be burdened down with that shrew’s daughter anymore.”

That what?!

Tune out of this conversation, please, Jin Zixuan said, his thoughts dull and sluggish and resigned. It’s going to get worse from here on out.

It did.

Sect Leader Jin commented at some great length about his views on Madame Yu’s many faults – her temper, her strength, her nosiness, her thought that she was worth anything other than a pair of legs and an inheritance – and contrasted it with some salacious comments on her positive traits – mostly the legs, with a few comments on the upper half as well – and then he started speculating about Jiang Yanli, too, in a way that made Wei Wuxian’s blood boil.

It’s not about her, Jin Zixuan told him, his voice a little desperate in a familiar way – he was used to having to defend his father, and just as obviously didn’t want to. He’s building up a defense.

What?

For my mother. She’ll be angry at him for agreeing to break the engagement, so he’ll say that it was my idea, say all this stuff, and then she’ll be angry at me for believing it, instead, even though I don’t. This isn’t what I wanted at all.

Wei Wuxian frowned. You wanted to marry my shijie? You sure didn’t show it!

No, I just didn’t want to marry anybody, Jin Zixuan said, and…okay, fine, that was a pretty respectable position. Wei Wuxian didn’t particularly want to marry anyone yet, either. I just got angry when everyone was talking about how it was a done deal, that’s all. Just one more thing that got picked for me.

Wei Wuxian had heard Jiang Cheng complain about similar enough things – how much of his life was selected in advance, how much was organized for the benefit of his sect rather than his own interests, how little choice he got. How even if he’d been as good as Wei Wuxian, or even better, he still wouldn’t have been able to go out and hunt pheasants all day the way Wei Wuxian did.

He refused to feel sympathy. Well, you shouldn’t have taken it out on my shijie!

Probably not. Jin Zixuan was silent for a moment. It probably doesn’t help, but I’m sorry for my rudeness.

Wei Wuxian hated it when people were reasonable. It made it so much harder to stay angry at them.

Are you going to tell me why I can’t tell people about this bond yet? he asked. You’d better have a good reason, I had to put up with an entire scolding from Jiang Cheng because I didn’t have a good excuse!

Later tonight. I promise.

That night, Wei Wuxian excused himself early and hid himself in his room on the boat. He knew that he was giving both Uncle Jiang and Jiang Cheng the impression that he was feeling deeply guilty about having broken the engagement, thereby making them feel bad about it, which he didn’t intend, but he really wanted to hear the reason. If it wasn’t good enough, he’d really break Jin Zixuan’s nose this time!

It really is a good reason!

Well, then? If it’s so good, don’t keep me in suspense!

Jin Zixuan sighed. Wei Wuxian felt it like an exhalation on his cheek, as if Jin Zixuan were right there beside him. You know how a resonant bond is supposed to be equal?

What do you mean ‘supposed to be’? Wei Wuxian asked, and felt something cold in his belly.

There are forbidden techniques, ancient ones, that are designed to manipulate a resonant bond into an unequal state. To make one side the master and the other the slave.

That’s disgusting!

If we told anyone, my father would find a way to get one, Jin Zixuan said, and he wasn’t guessing. His voice was utterly certain. There’s very little money can’t buy, and he wouldn’t be able to resist the idea of having a spy in the very heart of the Jiang clan.

Well, then just don’t tell him!

Just like I didn’t tell him about what I said about your shijie?

Wei Wuxian got tripped up by that. It was true, Jin Zixuan hadn’t said a word about what had happened, and yet his father had already known every last detail. How..?

One of my ‘friends’ told him, of course. Probably more than one, actually – I wouldn’t be surprised if they all passed it along. It’s what he pays them for.

He pays for your friends to spy on you?!

I already told you that there’s little money can’t buy. Why not friends?

I wouldn’t be friends with people who accepted money to spy on me. Why do you?

If it’s not this set, it’ll be another, and it’s all the same. If they won’t be bought, then I can’t be friends with them…anyway, I’ve gotten used to these ones.

All of them? Wei Wuxian asked. Even Mianmian? She didn’t seem the type…

Her name is Luo Qingyang, and yes. Her parents are sick and my father’s paying for the treatment; if she doesn’t tell him everything, he’ll cut off funds…she told me about it, though. Said that if there was ever a time that I wanted her to ‘forget’ to report something, she could do that. That’s more than most would do, and probably about as much as anyone can expect –

Have you ever had a friend that wasn’t bought? Wei Wuxian asked. I mean…ever?

Jin Zixuan was silent.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

Well, I guess you have me now, Wei Wuxian thought, with only a tiny amount of self-pity for the stupidity of agreeing to be friends with Jin Zixuan. Still, if he’d survived his efforts at being Lan Wangji’s friend, he could survive anything. No one’s going to buy me!

But –

Nope! No take-backs! We have a resonant bond, peacock. You think I’m going to waste a gift from the Heavens like this just because it’s with you? You’ve got another thing coming!

…can you at least stop calling me a peacock?!

-

Madame Yu made her displeasure clear enough when Wei Wuxian returned, ordering him to kneel all night and do every available chore and things like that, but Wei Wuxian didn’t take it to heart – he never did, really.

Like Jiang Cheng, Madame Yu’s bark was worse than her bite: for all that she hissed and spat and punished him with kneeling or holding up weights, she’d never denied him resources, kept him back from training, or even denied him the spot of head disciple to promote another less qualified in his place, which she very well might have if she were a bit pettier.

So he didn’t take it personally, even if Jin Zixuan seemed indignant on his behalf – you were defending her daughter! You’d think she’d give you some leeway for that, at least! – and at any rate it was better than Jin Zixuan’s slow meandering way home, with his father disappearing every night into a brothel or the bedroom of some innkeeper’s daughter or something like that.

It was better than Jin Zixuan’s mother’s reaction, too, which was to scream and shout and say vicious nasty things, to smash plates and vases against the walls right over his head, and then to pull him into her arms and make him promise over and over again that he would never betray her.

I think I suffered more in terms of physical exertion, but you get full points for all the emotional devastation, Wei Wuxian said after Jin Zixuan returned to hide in his bedroom. Does she do that a lot?

All the time, Jin Zixuan said. All the fucking time.

After a moment, he added, guiltily, It’s only that she loves me –

Ugh, don’t even start with that, Wei Wuxian said. Complaining about awful parent-related trauma is boring, I get enough of it from Jiang Cheng. Help me figure out what I should do tomorrow: flying kites, swimming, or hunting pheasants? Oh, or fishing!

…seriously? Do you spend any time cultivating?

Oh, come on. It’s my first day back!

That just means you have more you need to catch up on!

-

Your shijie is really nice.

I told you!

You didn’t! You just hit me!

-

Wei Wuxian loved having a resonant bond.

Sure, it wasn’t with someone useful like Jiang Cheng or even wonderful like Lan Wangji – I can hear you, you know – but it was kind of nice to have someone to complain to when it would be awkward to put it onto Jiang Cheng or Jiang Yanli.

The other half being Jin Zixuan was also not as bad as he had first thought it would be. Sure, he was just as spoiled, arrogant, vain, and deeply cynical about human nature as Wei Wuxian had thought – I can still hear you! – but he was also an awkward introvert with no social skills and an over-active guilt complex – fuck you too, Wei Wuxian – and, in the sum total of things, surprisingly tolerable. Thanks? I think?

It’d certainly made the indoctrination camp more tolerable, even if it did mean having two people talking in his ear about how he needed to think more about the consequences of his actions and how it might reflect on his sect, and certainly having Jin Zixuan confirming that the other disciples had made it out of the cave and were moving at full speed to try to get help made the days he was waiting with Lan Wangji a lot less stressful, and their ensuing rescue a lot easier.

But sometimes –

This is a terrible idea! You can’t do it!

You don’t get a say! Wei Wuxian snarled. This is my decision.

Fuck you, Jin Zixuan said. A moment later, quieter: Is this because I couldn’t make it to you in time to help?

Wei Wuxian swallowed, feeling his eyes burn. The Wen attack was a surprise to everyone, he said. Even if you were able to convince your father to let you go help with everyone you had, it wouldn’t – you wouldn’t have made it in time to do anything.

After his father had refused, Jin Zixuan had snuck out of Jinlin Tower through what he’d thought was a secret passage and tried to go anyway, only to be caught and dragged back. Wei Wuxian appreciated the effort, even if it didn’t make a difference in the end.

When they were on the run from the Wen sect, after, Jin Zixuan had encouraged Wei Wuxian to head to Lanling, swearing that he wouldn’t allow anyone to turn them over to the Wen sect, but they hadn’t gotten that far.

And now…

It’s my choice, Wei Wuxian said. You don’t get a say.

Fuck you, Jin Zixuan said again, but his voice was softer. Fine. But I’m here for you.

Wei Wuxian smiled, just a little bit, and told to Wen Qing to start.

-

I’m going to murder my father, Jin Zixuan said, conversationally. And then go to the hell reserved for patricides and be reborn as a chicken right before slaughter.

For shame, Wei Wuxian said. Not even a lamb or a goat?

No, I want to be able to bite someone and mean it, and chickens are better at that than goats.

Wei Wuxian giggled, a little hysterically. It’s fine, he said, looking around the Burial Mounds. It’s fine that he won’t let you come to my rescue immediately. Not like I’m going anywhere.

He’d thought – they’d both thought – that the resonant bond would break or maybe transfer to Jiang Cheng along with Wei Wuxian’s golden core, but it hadn’t.

Wei Wuxian had been depressingly grateful for it, for the by now familiar Lanling cadence of Jin Zixuan in his head. It made the horrible quiet empty of the Burial Mounds a little more tolerable, a little less awful.

Anyway, he said briskly, shaking off his terror at being here alone but for the voice in his head. I have an idea…

-

I feel like if I knew Chifeng-zun looked like that I would’ve made befriending Nie Huaisang more of a priority when I was younger.

I know, right? Wei Wuxian thought back. Just…wow.

A moment later, he added, a little irritably, I thought you were into my shijie again?

I am! I’m allowed to have eyes, okay?

Not if you’re surnamed Jin you aren’t.

Fuck you.

Nope. And Chifeng-zun isn’t going to, either.

He could feel Jin Zixuan rolling his eyes. I don’t even want him to, I was really just looking. Anyway, how’s Lan Wangji doing?

Lan Zhan? He’s – well, he’s always bothering me about going back to Gusu with him, talking about how my demonic cultivation is dangerous to me, but oh, you should have seen him when he joins us to fight..! You can forgive anything, really, just to watch him move – Wei Wuxian paused. Wait, why are you asking?

No reason.

Jin Zixuan! You tell me this instant -

-

Jin Zixuan was locking Wei Wuxian out of his head again.

It was a technique they’d worked on developing together – with some assistance from Wei Wuxian’s brilliance and Jin Zixuan’s ability to find and purchase extremely rare reference texts, whether on resonant bonds or just more generally, including when Wei Wuxian had needed some help figuring out some things about demonic cultivation while trapped on the Burial Mounds – as it had become moderately urgent following Jin Zixuan’s first spring dream involving Jiang Yanli, and even more so once he’d decided that he really did want to marry her, actually, if she’d be willing to have him.

There were some things Wei Wuxian did not need to know about his shijie.

Still, it was unusual for him to block him during the day. One might even call it suspicious.

I’m sorry, Jin Zixuan said abruptly. It had to be done, and you weren’t going to do it.

Huh? What are you talking about…?

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng shouted, and Wei Wuxian turned, surprised. His shidi’s eyes were red as if he’d been crying, and he ran up and pulled him into his arms. “Wei Wuxian…!”

“What?” he asked, puzzled. “What’s this about…?”

“How could you?!” Jiang Cheng demanded, weeping into his neck. “You should have told me – you had no right to – to give me – Wei Wuxian!”

Wei Wuxian’s back went stiff. You didn’t!

It was the truth or you getting kicked out of your sect! He needed to know!

Fuck you! It wasn’t your choice to make!

I’m not going to stand by and let you get schemed against, Jin Zixuan said. Certainly not by my own father. I won’t!

I’m going to make you pay for this, Wei Wuxian said darkly, then looked down at Jiang Cheng in his arms. And possibly thank you for it. But I’m definitely going to make you pay!

-

This may sound weird, Jin Zixuan said. But I think I’m being poisoned.

Based on what I know about Lanling Jin sect and its politics, it’s not weird at all, Wei Wuxian said instinctively, then frowned. Are you serious? It’s not just baby fatigue or something?

That’s what I thought at first, too. But now I’m not so sure. He was silent for a moment. I don’t want to sound like my mother, but…

You think it’s Lianfeng-zun? I’m not saying he doesn’t have the most motive for it, but do you really think..? He seems so nice.

He is, most of the time. Jin Zixuan sighed. Maybe I really am just tired.

Wei Wuxian didn’t think so. He’d had a half-dozen years of listening to the backstabbing, vicious world of Jinlin Tower under his belt by now – had fought bitterly in the war only to fight even more bitterly for something like the right to attend his own shijie’s wedding, something that ought to have been his by right – had nearly suffered an ambush when he tried to attend Jin Ling’s first month party, with Jin Zixun attacking him and Wen Ning going unexpectedly crazy and Jin Zixuan rushing over as fast as he could to make them all stop. If he hadn’t already known about Jin Zixuan not knowing about this, if he hadn’t felt something go wrong and thrown himself in between them without thinking, Jin Zixuan might’ve died there and then on the Qiongqi path.

If Jin Zixuan thought he was being poisoned, he was probably being poisoned.

I’ll come visit you and look into it, Wei Wuxian said. We can pretend that I’m there to visit shijie.

They’d long ago confessed the truth to Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, of course. For some reason, neither had looked all that surprised.

With your reputation, even if you figured something out, who’d believe you? Jin Zixuan asked. Ask Hanguang-jun if he’ll come, his reputation will bear up.

Lan Zhan? Sure! I’m always happy to work with him. But you know, he’s been ignoring me recently…I don’t know why…

Tell him about the resonant bond.

What? I thought we were still keeping it a secret.

Tell him. He doesn’t tell anyone anything.

Good point, I guess. You think that’ll help him stop ignoring me?

Yes.

Wei Wuxian generally trusted Jin Zixuan’s reading of people, now that he was mature enough not to let his personal feelings cloud his judgment. All right, I will. Can you tell me why?

You’ll find out when you tell him.

Unhelpful.

Noted and ignored.

Fuck you.

Yeah, you too. See you soon.

-

Jin Zixuan?

Yeah?

Thank you for my love life, but also, FUCK YOU.

[imherongraystairstrash]

I know you write about relationships in TLH and TID that are rarely/seldom touched on in the books or extras, but I wanted to know if you would consider a Christopher and Thomas Lightwood fic. Maybe the first time they are both in the lab and Thomas experiences the first of the many explosions which Kit unintentionally created. You could follow it up with another scene: Thomas pointing out to Christopher what had led up to the explosion (a misidentified component or measurement).

Of course! I absolutely adore the Lightwood cousins! I put a tiny bit of all of them in this fic, but it's mostly focused of Thomas and Kit :)

Thomas and Kit:

Thomas’ sisters have been giggling for what felt like days. Not only giggling, but they kept pestering him, asking about what men fancied the most in women.

Oh, Tommy, do men like shorter hair or longer hair?

Do men prefer a woman who speaks softly or says what’s on her mind?

Thomas would always say the same thing: I don’t know.

Because, really, he didn’t. He’d never thought of women in that way, though the angel knew he’d tried. He simply couldn’t. His mind told him to like one thing, but his heart said otherwise. It was frustrating. And very confusing.

“Why can’t you just be yourselves?” Thomas said. “Who cares what the men think?”

They giggled again, which made Thomas furrow his eyebrows.

“Don’t you understand, Tom? You have to lure them in by attracting their attention, and then, once you have them wrapped around your finger—”

“Then, you can show your true colors.” Barbara finished.

“That’s a terrible idea.” Thomas said. “You’re just wasting your time.”

They both shook their heads in perfect synchronization.

“He’s too young.” Eugenia said.

“And innocent.” Barbara replied.

Thomas rolled his eyes as they giggled again, and began discussing possible bachelors.

Thomas could only tolerate two minutes before he felt suffocated and stood up, frustrated.

“Wait, we still need you.” Eugenia said.

“Where are you going, Tommy?” Barbara asked.

“Out.” He snapped, taking his coat from the hanger and tugging it on. He let the door close behind him, ignoring his urge to slam it, and quickly made his way down the steps of his house.

The cold air bit into his skin and made its way to his neck and down his back. He silently cursed his sisters for making him leave in such a rush that he forgot to take his scarf.

Thomas walked down the streets of London, letting movement cool his head.

He was tired of the world. Angry at it. The way his sisters embraced it and tried their very best to be a part of it. The way it would force him to live his life differently, with someone he could never truly love.

He wished it would disappear, leave him alone, and yet it was always there, floating over his head like a shadow.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and briskly crossed the street.

Most days, Thomas missed Idris; walking barefoot through the forest and simply being outside in the clean, rich air. In Idris, if he wanted to be alone, he could. He could lay on the grass and fill his lungs with it’s wonderful scent, or climb a tree and hum melodies of his own creation. Of course, he liked the fact that in London, he could be with his friends, but there are some things even friends can’t quite help with. His friends could calm his mind the way the soft breeze that ruffled his hair or singing of birds could.

Thomas didn’t realize where he was going until he was standing in front of his Aunt and Uncle’s house.

He knocked on the door, and when nobody answered, he shrugged and opened it.

He made his way through the house, poking his head in certain rooms, trying to find one of the residents. It was usually quiet today. He looked into the parlor and found Cecily with her back to him. She was swaying back and forth, her hair falling from it’s bun.

“Hello, Aunt Cecy.” Thomas said.

Cecily turned, and smiled when she saw him. Her eyes had bags under them, as she and Uncle Gabriel were very tired these days, the reason for which was soundly snoozing in Cecily’s arms. Thomas’ new baby cousin, Alexander (whom Kit had informed Thomas was very loud) apparently has lungs of steel. Cecily had said she looked like a raccoon these days, but Thomas thought she still looked as pretty as always. “Oh, hello Thomas. Have you come to see Christopher?” She asked, rearranging Alex’s blanket.

Thomas nodded, “is he here?”

“In his room. He’s been awfully quiet today.” She said, simply. Then she furrowed her eyebrows, as if realizing what she’d just said.

“Do make sure he's not partaking in something foolish while you’re there, Thomas, would you?”

“Yes, Aunt.” Thomas said, making his way up the stairs.

He hadn’t wanted to come any closer to his baby cousin, for fear that he’d wake him, and Aunt Cecy would have to put him to sleep again.

Thomas waved at Uncle Gabriel as he passed him in the study, as he walked down the hall. Gabriel waved back half-heartedly, as if the life had been sucked out of him.

When Thomas opened the door to Christopher’s room, he found him bent over the table in his room.

“You’re going to hurt your back if you stand like that.” Thomas said as a way of greeting.

His cousin looked up immediately.

“Shut the door,” he hissed.

Surprised and confused, Thomas did so, and Kit straightened.

“What ho! How wonderful that you are here, Tom. I was working on something fascinating.”

“Is it related to science in any way, because last time you tried something like it, you blew up one of Henry’s walls.”

“That was because I made a simple mistake.” Kit said, with a wave of his hand. “This time it’s different.”

Thomas wasn’t very convinced. He noted Kit’s askew cravat, his tousled hair, his glasses that sat crooked on his nose and his wide-eyed gaze and concluded that his cousin has officially lost his head.

“Why did you look like I’d committed the largest sin on the planet when I left the door open?” Thomas said, deciding to change the subject.

Kit scowled. “Alexander.”

Thomas blinked. “You’ll have to be a little bit more specific than that.”

“Any small amount of noise and Alexander will cry for hours.” Christopher said, scrawling something on a paper. “At least this way I don’t have to hear the racket so much.”

“Oh,” Thomas said.

“I don’t know why Mum and Dad even wanted another baby. They’re demonic creatures.”

“I thought you liked Alex.”

“When he didn’t cry so much.” Kit said, rather darkly.

Thomas had never seen his cousin so…gothic? Not only was he strangely gothic, but he has also thrown himself into science experiments, which didn’t settle well with Thomas. It was as if he were a mad scientist and Thomas, who’d read Frankenstein, didn’t think those two words were ever a good combination.

He cast an uneasy glance at Kit, who was biting his bottom lip as he combined two solutions.

“Kit, what are you even trying to accomplish?”

“Oh, erm, actually, I don’t know. I’m just observing what will happen if you combine— Oh, that’s not good,” Kit said.

“What’s not good?” Thomas asked, just as a large explosion answered the question for him.

“What the Hell was that?!” They heard Gabriel’s frantic voice call from the hall, just as Alexander began wailing and Cecily let out a noise that started out as frustration, then became something halfway between confusion and worry. Christopher, covered in soot, simply stared, dumbfounded, at the place where the vial had once been.

“Erm…” Thomas said, unsure of how to answer the question his uncle asked.

Not that it mattered, as Gabriel burst into the room a few seconds later. Much like his son, he blinked and just stared at the explosion site for the moment it took Cecily to come inside with a red faced Alexander in her arms. The latter was rubbing at his puffy eyes with his small fists, clearly not happy to have been woken up from his nap in such a way.

“Christopher Gideon Gabriel Lightwood, what in the name of Raziel have you done?” Cecily said, not hysterically, like most parents might ask, but more so weary, as though she wasn’t entirely surprised by the fact that there was an explosion in her residence on a Sunday morning.

Kit shrugged, still staring at the explosion site.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Thomas said, “but are these chemicals toxic? Shouldn’t we be evacuating?”

And for the first time in Thomas’ life, he saw his Uncle Gabriel and Aunt Cecily exchange a wide-eyed expression before Cecily ordered them all out of the room and briskly led them down the hallway.

She knocked on Anna’s door as they passed it. “Cariad, make haste, we’re evacuating the house.”

“Why?” Anna asked in a bored and strangely breathless voice, as if she were dancing.

“Your brother caused an explosion. Did you really not hear it?” Gabriel said.

“Oh, that’s what that was?”

“Yes, now come outside before you start glowing in the dark from the toxic fumes.” Cecily said firmly.

Anna groaned. “Alright. Let me get dre— I mean, I’ll be right down.”

Cecily sighed and continued down the hall.

…

Thomas waited outside with the Lightwoods, Anna climbing out of her window a short while later, not bothering to straighten her simple dress as she landed. If either Gabriel and Cecily were by any means surprised by Anna’s exit, neither remarked upon it. Nor did they mind that Anna was barefoot or that her wavy hair was unbound, waving in the wind like an ebony banner.

Gabriel and Cecily were simple folk, in that sense. They didn’t waste time trying to make their children conform to society, they just let them roam free.

Well, except for now, as they were scolding Kit, Cecily forbade him from any sort of experimentation within their house. They may differ from parents in many ways, but they were still parents, regardless.

Anna slumped down beside Thomas, watching the house.

“Another day, another dollar in the Lightwood residence.” Anna said mournfully.

Thomas just stared blankly ahead.

“One of these days, Tom, I’m going to get my own flat.”

Thomas nodded.

“And you can have my room here.” Anna said.

Thomas snorted. “Your room is pink. Very pink.”

Anna pressed her lips together. “Believe me, I’m aware.”

When Kit was done being scolded, he came over to them. Anna patted the grass next to where she was sitting and Kit plopped down beside her.

“How angry are they?” Anna asked.

Kit just frowned.

“At least they’re not disappointed.” Anna said, ruffling his hair.

Kit just pressed his lips together, identical to the way his sister had done shortly before. Anna and Kit looked very alike, despite their coloring. They always denied it, of course, just as Thomas always denies it when others say that he looks like his sisters.

“Well, you two are a dull bunch.” Anna said, getting up. “If neither of you are going to talk, I might as well leave.”

They watched her go to her father, most likely making a joke as she walked and despite everything that happened, Gabriel chuckled.

Kit scooted closer to Thomas, who put a hand on his cousin’s back.

“Maybe next time, you should study the chemicals better.” Thomas said, “see how they react to other chemicals. I don’t think spontaneity is something scientists encourage.”

Kit looked up.

“And maybe don’t do it in your room?” Thomas said.

Christopher nodded.

Thomas looked straight ahead, and they sat in a comfortable silence.

“Do you really hate Alex?” Thomas asked after a while.

“Not really.” Kit said. “He is just vexing sometimes.”

Thomas huffed a laugh. “I feel the same about Genia and Babs sometimes, if that makes you feel better.”

“I still like Alex, though.”

Thomas hummed. “Yes, I still love my sisters too.”

Thomas leaned back on his hands and closed his eyes. He may not be in Idris, but at least he still had his family. He may be different and the rest of the world might shun him, but at least his parents would still love him.

At least he was alive, and though sometimes it wasn’t always perfect, life was still good.

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[hooved]

i'm not gonna like tell ppl they can't have whatever trans headcanons they want because that'd be shitty and also it literally doesn't matter so like don't kill me for saying this but i just cannot view odo as a trans man given the fact that he was quite literally coercively assigned male by dr. mora (and one of the DS9 books even goes into how much he was scolded all the time for always getting men and women confused, mixing up their pronouns, not understanding the differences between them, etc., which he still had trouble with for a long time). and as i've said before, he even says in the comics that he has no gender. he's canonically genderless. like it just doesn't feel right to me personally to assume he ever actually intended to be a man just because he based his humanoid form on his shitty "dad" who abused him, all while he was still barely even gaining cognition

[heavenbarnes]

what’s your poison?

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: a cheating ex boyfriend, alcohol, unprotected sex (please use protection), oral sex (female receiving), handjob, dirty talk, swearing, joking during sex cause i’m fun, pulling out onto stomach, bucky has a dog, new zealand english cause i wrote the start on my phone

Word Count: 5.5k

if you try and tell me you’ve never fallen in love with your bartender before, i hope you know you’re a liar! anyways, this is fun and it doesn’t mean anything so enjoy (so i guess this is technically an au, but could also not be cause there is references to in-canon shit) x

You wouldn’t say you were proud of finding solace in a bar, especially not one with those tacky red neons and a floor sticky enough to have you frozen in place.

But here you are, perched up on that high stool by the window, notebook spread open in front of you with a pen resting on your lower lip.

Funny thing about heartbreak, the world doesn’t stop moving around you, even when you wish it did. So when you come home to your roommate fucking your boyfriend, you still have to live in that house cause finding rentals is near impossible.

And when living in that house feels damn suffocating, you have to sit in the bar down the street doing the work that is kicking your ass, because people don’t stop filing reports when your heart gets broken.

Wasn’t the first time the world made it blaringly obvious that it didn’t revolve around you, but sometimes the ignorance is bliss.

Scribbling out yet another data set, you knew your life wasn’t about to get any easier, but even you had to admire your own perseverance. So did Astrid, the sweet waitress that was swapping your empty glass with a full one.

You smiled at her, picking up the drink and giving it a sniff, screwing your nose up slightly. “You’re very kind but this smells strong and I’m still working.”

“It wasn’t me, I’m just the messenger,” She returned your smile as she cleaned the little drops of soda from your last drink. “Bucky figured you needed it by the look on your face.”

Casting a glance over Astrid’s shoulder you caught eyes with the bartender, the one who’d already been looking at you but turned away once you caught his eye. You lent him a smile nonetheless, just in case he was looking.

Stirring the drink with your paper straw, you came in to take a sip, immediately feeling the flavours flood over your tongue. Bucky was onto something, you definitely needed this and about 17 others after it.

“Tell him I say thank you.” You gave her a sheepish little grin as you took another sip of his creation.

The thing about Bucky was, he didn’t say a hell of a lot but he was a god with his hands. Not like that, like when he was shaking cocktails. But you were sure he was probably good in that way too.

Six foot three and broad in just about every way, long hair and that brooding kind of look on his face. He might’ve been the reason you picked this bar out of the ten or so others littering the stretch.

He’d quietly mix your drinks with those large hands (even his prosthetic hand was big, dark metal glinting under the neon lights), always making you exactly what you needed. Sometimes, if you timed it right, you could see him watching you out of the corner of your eye.

That should’ve been weird, quiet guy that won’t even introduce himself to you watches you from across a bar. But Bucky made it different, something in you liked the way he stared.

Astrid had been the only one you told about your now ex-boyfriend, but from your hospitality experience, word spreads quick behind a bar. You didn’t mind, it got you free drinks and kindness from the other waitresses as they swirled around you.

Beanie, who was studying business on the side, would sit with you as you worked out your spreadsheets. She asked you mountains of questions that never got annoying, felt nice to be valued around here.

Every day that you left work, you’d sneak back to your apartment, avoiding your roommate by timing it with when you knew she’d be at the gym. Quickly changing your clothes, you slipped back out into the city and headed for the bar.

You kept it quiet with where you spent your evenings, not wanting your boss to think you had a problem with all your time spent there. But you knew that it was very seldom there was actually alcohol in your drinks, mainly just new mocktails Bucky was trialing and testing on you.

That’s how the two of you communicated, he’d make a drink, a waitress would bring it over, you’d sample it and she’d feed the feedback back to him. A rather outdated system that could be solved by you both picking up your nuts and speaking to one another.

But that’d mean hearing each other’s voice, incredibly intimate when you’ve drawn it out this long. You’d have to have something to talk about, be alone in each other’s presence, admit that there was-

Now what was there?

Every night of every week you were there until closing, walking with Astrid to her car, Bucky trailing a few steps behind the both of you. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he was making sure you both made it safely. As soon as you both got in, he climbed on his motorcycle and wouldn’t see him again until the next evening.

The moment Astrid dropped you at your apartment, you’d sneak inside, thanking the gods that your roommate was asleep so you didn’t have any awkward hallway interactions. Instead, you lay in the centre of your bed and strangely enough, you thought of your bartender without a voice to even put to the man.

The next evening you were there, you found your mind straying from the work in front of you and heading into the conversation of the waitresses floating around you.

“No, but she’s like gorgeous,” Beanie groaned, putting her notepad in the pocket of her apron. “Bucky is so lucky, she’s just a dream.”

Your ears pricked up at the sound of his name being dropped, and without being able to control it, you found yourself travelling to a million different realities. Of course he had a girlfriend, a man that looks like that and makes a Singapore Sling that good cannot be single.

There was truly no reason to be sad right now, he wasn’t yours and never was. But maybe you enjoyed him paying special attention to you, especially after what the last guy did to you. Astrid did tell you that Bucky was a bit stone cold sometimes, he never used this special treatment on anyone else.

So here you were thinking you were special, and here was the universe pulling you into line again, reminding you in no uncertain terms that the world didn’t revolve around you.

You drank Bucky’s mew mocktails, but they didn’t taste as fun when you knew they weren’t genuine. Sure maybe the care was genuine, but there wasn’t anything behind it. You screwed up your face when you heard your own thoughts, you sounded like an actual fuckboy right now.

Gone are the days of alarmingly handsome men being able to gift a Moscow Mule in peace, no sex attached. You just had to go and set the women’s rights movement back a few years.

You scolded yourself silently, taking another sip of the drink and enjoying Bucky’s talents. You weren’t even in the headspace for a new man at the moment, so where were you getting off hoping the guy was single?

Lifting your head towards the bar, you found those blue eyes back on you. He stuttered for a moment, realising he’d been caught staring, so he lifted his eyebrow almost to say “what do you think?”

A smile formed on your face of its own accord, lifting your hand into a thumbs up you mouthed back “pretty damn good.”

And for the first time since you’d been coming here, you saw it. You saw the corners of Bucky’s pretty lips turn up into a smile as he nodded, looking awful proud of himself.

God damn it, your brain knew you weren’t ready but your heart didn’t seem to give a fuck.

Another night at the bar and as you came inside, your eyes went to your normal seat, only to find somebody already sitting in it. After a long day at work, you couldn’t help the childish groan drift out of your lips.

“I know,” Astrid caught you mid grumble as she started walking you over. “But there is a seat right here at the bar.”

Putting you in a stool, she wiped down the surface in front of you so you could lay out your papers to keep working. She gave your shoulders a squeeze and happened to hit the right spot, maybe it was her girlfriend you needed to be jealous of.

As she went to leave you be, you heard her call over her shoulder. “Bucky, she’s here.”

Your head snapped up, heat rising in your cheeks as Astrid scurried away to serve her tables. From the service door, a large frame took all of it up as Bucky appeared before you.

Watching the way his eyes scanned the room, they fixed on the spot you usually sat at before his brow furrowed in confusion. It wasn’t until his gaze drifted down and caught you at the bar, he nearly jumped in fright.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Astrid tells him when you arrive every night, like it’s something he looks forward to. You gave him a smile and a pathetic little wave as you tried to calm yourself down. The man has a girlfriend, he isn’t waiting for you.

Bucky smiled back, seemingly looking just as nervous as you felt. He quickly raised one finger, as if asking you to wait, before he spun around and started grabbing different bottles from the back shelf.

As you watched him work, you smelt a breeze of perfume drift past you, one that had become familiar. You reached out and grabbed Beanie by the wrist, deciding now was the best time to put yourself out of your misery.

“Bucky’s girlfriend must be the luckiest person on earth, with a man who makes drinks like that.”

Beanie scrunched up her nose in confusion, looking between the two of you.

“Girlfriend? You know something I don’t?”

You studied her gaze, matching that look of lacking in understanding.

“He must have a girlfriend, right?”

“Oh, the only woman in Bucky’s life is his dog, Daybreak,” She laughed, turning on her heel to leave. “You should see her, she’s gorgeous.”

A dog, a fucking dog. You’ve been stewing every night for about a week over a fucking dog. A curt laugh slipped past your lips and you didn’t even try to stop it, top tier stupidity and you actually deserved it.

Bucky turned to look over his shoulder, caught off guard by your chuckle as he’d missed the whole conversation over the noise of the bar. He just smiled, stirring the glass in front of him before sliding it across to you.

Sniffing it first, like you always did, it smelt heavenly like winter mint. Taking the first sip, it went down ridiculously well and you nodded in content before flashing Bucky a thumbs up. He placed his right hand over his heart nodding back to you. Your silent communication always said enough.

Bucky made you two more of those minty little things as you kept studying your spreadsheets. The bar patrons moved around you as the hours ticked on and you were so enveloped in your work it made you jump when you heard your name.

That and the voice that the word floated off of.

Turning in your stool, your ex boyfriend stood before you with his hands clasped together. Shaking your head, you went to spin back around but he stepped forward, hand reaching for your upper arm.

“I know you don’t want to see me but please let me explain.”

“Normally I’d say ‘fuck off’, but I’d love to hear an explanation for how you ended up fucking my roommate.”

He grimaced at the sound of you throwing his mistake back in his face. But truthfully, if he didn’t like the sound of it, maybe he shouldn’t have cheated.

“I know I fucked up, it was so stupid but it didn’t mean anything.”

“When did it stop meaning something? The third time? Maybe the 15th time? Please, enlighten me.”

A part of him seemed shocked, that you weren’t folding like a hand of cards and letting him take you home. Stupid boy should’ve realised you were a whole person before he met you, you’d go on without him.

“Alright, I know I deserve all this but I just want my baby back.”

You almost responded, your mouth opened to say something- anything, but someone else cut you to the chase.

“Your baby back? This isn’t Ruby-fucking-Tuesday’s, but you’re more than welcome to get the hell out of my bar.”

Turning behind you, you saw large hands gripping the wooden legs, squared up and unafraid. It didn’t register with you that this was the first time you’d heard Bucky’s voice until it was too late. A shiver shifted down your spine as you watched the way he stared the other man down.

“And who the hell are you?” Your ex had always been stupid, never knew when to stop running his mouth and keep it away from other girls.

“I’m the one that’s been keeping ‘your baby’ company each night since you fucked up so bad.”

Not to set the women’s rights movement back another few years, but there was something quite lovely about being fought over. Picking your drink back up, you sipped it slowly as you watched Bucky refuse to back down.

“You don’t know the first thing about her.”

“I know she’s far too smart to be wasting her time with you, so I won’t say it again, get the hell out of my bar.”

Your ex looked to you, stupidly thinking he’d find reprieve with you. Shrugging your shoulders and turning your gaze to Bucky you finally spoke. “This is delicious, you really are gifted.”

And with his tail tucked between his legs, you watched your ex trudge out of the bar, silently hoping that would be the last time you saw his sorry ass.

The only thing about him leaving was the silence that now sat between yourself and Bucky, having to come to terms with the fact your quiet little knowings have now become incredibly loud.

Still sipping away at your drink, thankfully Bucky found the notion to speak first. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get involved-“

Thinking he was finished you spoke up. “Please don’t apologise, I loved it.” As you were speaking, he finished with, “I really care about you.”

That shut the both of you up, back to quiet as you looked at each other across the bar. Patrons kept milling about around you but the world seemed to stop for you. In your own head, you asked for a sign, a sign that you should risk it all.

Bucky’s tongue came out to run across his lower lip and you swore you saw stars.

That wouldn’t normally stand as a sign but you were fine with a reach, you’d already decided he could’ve sneezed and that would work.

“You know, uh,” You cleared your throat, placing down your now empty glass. “I’ve always wondered what it was like to be on a motorcycle.”

Bucky nodded slowly in understanding, pulling the rag off his shoulder and placing it against the counter. “I’ve always wanted to show you what it’s like.”

“What time do you clock off?”

“Now, now’s good.”

The sound of your stool scraping against the wood floor drew Astrid’s gaze up as she moved through the crowd between the tables. Stopping beside your usual spot, she stood beside the man who’d taken your seat that night.

“Thank you, Albert,” She passed him the twenty dollar note. “It was about time they got moving.”

There was something incredibly intimate about being within close proximity of Bucky, let alone having him sat between your legs as your arms closed even tighter around his waist. You swore he zipped in and out of traffic on that bike just so you’d get even closer, and you were reasonably thankful for it.

Going from only hearing his voice moments before to being so close to him you could smell the Calvin Klein aftershave? There was a lot going on and it was enough to make your head spin. So you chose to relax into him, as much as you could with the helmet locked around your head.

You were nearly going to pout when you arrived at his house, but the moment he stretched his hand out to take yours and walk you in, he wasn’t leaving you with much to feel sorry about.

Now, there are many dangers about walking into a single man’s apartment, mainly the state it could be in. Bucky’s was beautiful, dark furniture and well looked after, everything was tidy and it actually smelt nice. You’d think he was straight out of the 40′s with manners and charm like this.

As you gazed around in awe of the first male apartment you’d been in without a fist-sized hole in the wall, you felt something brush against your legs. Looking down, you found a husky nearly at your hip height, bright blue eyes like her dad’s.

“Daybreak, go easy on her.” Bucky sounded from the kitchen, he’d already made his way in and started fishing around.

“That’s okay, you’re even more beautiful than I was told.” You cooed, your voice immediately catering just for her as you scratched around her ears.

“They told you about her?” Bucky chuckled as he worked, two highball glasses in front of him and a dark liquor starting to pour.

Your cheeks glowed hot as you thought about whether or not you should tell him of your monumental fuck up from earlier. Maybe he’d laugh? Or maybe he’d think you were a sociopath? Better to get it out now you supposed.

“I heard them talking, and I thought they were referring to your girlfriend, so they just cleared that up for me.” You caught Daybreak’s eye, busying yourself with her so you couldn’t see the gorgeous man stood a metre away and laughing at you.

“Yes, my incredibly fluffy girlfriend with disgusting breath and a habit of standing on my back when I sleep.” He shook his head, squeezing lime into the glass along with what you thought might’ve been bitters.

“Hey, whatever you’re into, I’m not going to judge!” You put your hands up in defense before going back to fluffing Daybreak’s coat.

Bucky stirred the drinks before sliding one across the counter top to you. Raising back up, you gratefully accepted it as he began to speak again. “You weren’t jealous were you?”

Your eyes widened, thinking on it for a moment with as much expression as possible. Avoiding the question entirely, you took a sip, feeling the warm ginger taste roll through you. 

“What do you call this one?”

“Answer my question and I’ll tell you.”

Narrowing your eyes, you bit the bullet. “I might’ve been a little jealous.”

“This one is called a ‘howling commando’, why were you jealous?”

“Raunchy name, I love it! What was the other minty one called?”

Bucky’s grin widened as he knew exactly what game you were playing, he couldn’t deny he was looking forward to a little tussle.

“Answer my question and I’ll tell you, those are the rules.”

You scrunched up your nose before giving in, he was hot and he had rules, there was simply no denying this man. “Maybe because you make me want to do very bad things to you.”

Bucky’s jaw went slack, but the corners of his mouth tweaked up into a smile as he thought carefully on his next move.

“The minty one is called a ‘winter soldier’, can you tell me what those very bad things are?”

Wrapping your lips around your paper straw, you kept your eyes closely fixed on his as you shrugged your shoulders. You drew back, letting the straw rest in the centre of your tongue as he followed your movements with intrigue.

“Or maybe I could just show you?”

With a swift movement, Bucky cleared the table with one hand and the other snaked around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. You felt his lips glide across yours, as soft as you’d imagined and that bite of alcohol resting just past them.

Your hands came up to fist at his shirt, tugging him down so you could slip your tongue in and against his. He brought his other hand down to rest just behind your knee, picking you up in a swift motion and placing you against his kitchen counter.

Legs locking around him, you pulled him in as you gripped at his flannel over shirt to push it off his shoulders. Bucky took the hint, stripping the shirt off before getting onto his t-shirt. He stood before you bare-chested and beautiful, so much so that your breath caught in your throat.

A hint of a smirk started on his face but you shook your head, not prepared to let him have the joy of catching you off guard. You took his jaw in your hands and brought him back to your lips, reveling in the feeling of him on you.

Feeling his hands go for your waistband, you lifted your hips to let him get rid of your bottoms, the cold of kitchen tile against the backs of your thighs.

“You are so fucking beautiful, been thinking of you since the day you walked into my bar.”

Giggling into his mouth, you ran your hands down his neck and into the hair at the nape, tugging slightly. “I could say the same about you, pretty boy.”

You could’ve sworn Bucky growled, but you weren’t given enough time to dwell on it as he began to ease you back until you lay against the counter. His fingers went to the band of your underwear, slowly easing those down your legs.

Here you were, spread out in this mans kitchen like dinner and he was going to eat his share. A shiver ran through you that you could pinpoint to excitement as you felt his breath gently ghost over you.

His hands ran from your thighs all the way up to the hem of your shirt, sliding it up your body and underneath to palm at your chest. You knew he had big hands, it was one of the first things you noticed, but you weren’t prepared for how good they’d feel when he held you.

The moment you felt his mouth come down against your pussy, your whole back arched off the bench. You gripped at his forearms, nails digging in slightly as you rolled your lower half into his mouth. His tongue came out, running along your slit and moving against your clit.

You’d definitely been swindled into a shit deal with your ex, it never felt anything like this and Bucky had only just started. His name fell out of your throat as his tongue sped up, moving back down to your entrance and making your eyes nearly rolled back in your head.

Bucky pulled back one of his hands for only a moment so he could hook your legs over his shoulders, before he grabbed back at your breasts. The contrast between the rough skin of his fingers tweaking at your nipple, and the smooth metal on the other was driving you wild.

“How are you so good at this, what the fuck?” You babbled, back going up against as he flicked the tip of his tongue at your clit.

He chuckled into you, the sounds vibrating off of where you were most sensitive and hitting you straight in the core. You’d never had a man pay this much attention to you, know exactly where to go and what to do. It was damn near overwhelming and this was the bare minimum, god you’d been missing out.

Bringing one hand down, he pressed two fingers to your clit as his tongue moved back down. The pressure of his skilled digits against you and the speed of his tongue, you were doing your best to cry out his name but it wasn’t coming out right. Your brain couldn’t keep up with everything else.

Pressing your foot into his shoulder, you slipped your hand into his hair, locking into the roots and tugging tight against them. A moan fell out of Bucky and straight against you, rocking your pussy up against his lips. You had to forget everything you thought you knew about men. 

This was a man and he was going to change your life.

He swapped his fingers, slowly sliding them into you as his tongue moved back to your clit. The minute he bent those metal digits up, still pumping his wrist and working his mouth, it was all over.

You clenched down around him, his name flew high into the air as you shook against him, your wetness covering his chin as he moved to lap it up. Like a good boy, he let you get your breath, pulling back and cleaning off his fingers with his tongue.

“Don’t do that in front of me, you’ll make my heart stop.” You joked, throwing your arm over your eyes.

Bucky chuckled, taking a knee in each hand where you’d clamped your thighs together, slowly easing them apart. He tugged you along the bench until your legs were wrapped around him again.

“I can’t believe I just came, and that hard.” You admitted, finally able to cope with it all.

“That’s kind of the point, pretty baby.”

“Yeah but you haven’t even?”

The soft little patterns Bucky was tracing on your thigh came to a halt, almost making you whinge. He looked down at you with an expression of pure confusion before speaking up. 

“Wait, did your ex never make you come during foreplay?”

“Are you kidding?” You snorted, propping yourself up on elbows. “He barely made me come during sex.”

Bucky shook his head, looking physically wounded by what you were telling him. “Oh baby, this isn’t even for pleasure anymore, this is an act of service.”

You snorted at him, gripping his arms so you could pull yourself up to sitting. He tugged you even further until you were flush against him. His face was so close to yours, every part of him was so close.

“You’re being goofy, you’re lucky I think you’re hot.”

It was his turn to laugh, before he slipped his hand down, undoing his belt with a little of your assistance. As he shuffled his jeans and briefs down, you brought your hand to wrap around his length, and it nearly put you back on your ass.

So soft and remarkably beautiful for a dick, it was heavy as all hell as you wrapped your fingers around. So thick and built for two hands to stroke it, you knew that no matter what happened from here on out, you wouldn’t be forgetting about him soon.

“I knew you had a big dick, I could tell from the way you walked,” You said, spitting into your hand so you could stroke him. “But this is just fucking unreal.”

Bucky tried to laugh but you twisted your wrist at just the right time, it filtered off into a moan as his head dipped into the crook of your neck. “And you say I’m the goofy one.”

“Is baby getting all shy, can’t handle the fact he’s hung like a fucking horse?” You teased, running your fingers over his head.

Sucking in a breath, his hands came to grip your hips as you kept jerking him, simply enjoying the way he felt in your hands. “It is far too early for me to be telling you that if you keep talking like that, it will make me come.”

Dropping your mouth open, you turned towards him but ended up nuzzling your nose in his hair. His shampoo smelt incredible, not like a 3-in-1 but like an actual shampoo.

“Bucky, you are a fucking freak, I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

Pulling back from your neck, he gave you the toothiest grin before tipping his head back with a heady moan that made your pussy clench. He looked so beautiful moaning for you, completely at your will with his cock in your hand.

There was something so refreshing about this, your ex never let you have fun during sex, it was always so boring and so incredibly serious. You’d never laughed so much, played so much, and still come so hard your vision whited out.

Bucky took your hand off his dick, wrapping his own it as you tipped your hips back slightly. He lined up, laying his head against your entrance where you needed him most. He slowly slid in as your arms wrapped around his shoulders and gripped tight.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as he moved in, the stretch and burn something you hadn’t felt in a wee while, it took over you as he did his best to be gentle. You were starting to understand the meaning of “rearranging guts” as he got to the hilt.

You paused for a moment, breathing through as Bucky strained with all his might to not move. He’d never felt something so fucking tight and so fucking warm, he would lay money on it that you were made for him and he was always meant to find you.

Finally, you tapped on his shoulder and signaled him to move. He rolled his hips into you, the first few thrusts to find his rhythm before he really picked up. Your ankles crossed over above his ass, keeping him as close to you as you could as his speed increasingly picked up.

“God, this pussy feel so fucking good.” He groaned, hands coming down to lift your shirt back up.

You pulled it over your head, throwing it behind you with your bra as his hands immediately gripped back onto them. Lowering slightly, he brought his mouth to one of your nipples, lips wrapping around and sucking gently as his hips never let up.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you thought about those incredible noises he’d made moments before. Tugging gently, you earnt yourself another moan that rippled through you as you rolled your hips back into his.

“Bucky, faster,” Panting out your words, you gripped him tighter. “I want you to fuck me like you mean it.”

Bucky’s eyes cast up to you, locking with yours and in an instant he changed. One hand gripped your hip and the other braced against the counter as he surged forward into you. A rippling cry travelled out of your chest and broke in your throat, a pathetic moan replacing it.

“You calling me nasty but I think you’re just as bad as I am, hmm?”

You smiled up at him, leaning back slightly so he could watch the way your tits bounced for him as he fucked you. “I never said I wasn’t, I was the one who wanted to do the bad things.”

Bucky lent down, nose to nose with you and lips nearly touching. “You weren’t the only one who was thinking like that.”

His lips caught yours again as his tongue moved straight into your mouth. He pulled you back onto him and made your whole body tense up on him, a ridiculously good rhythm that was making your legs shake.

Slipping a hand in between you, his fingers worked quick against your clit as you tried to match his movements. Everything was becoming increasingly difficult as you could feel your second orgasm working its way through you.

“You’re so good, you make incredible drinks and you’re really good at this too.” You cried, gripping onto his forearm as your back arched up.

Hearing him chuckle through his staggered breaths, his fingers only picked up against where you were most sensitive. “You make spreadsheets look sexy, holy fuck.”

You would’ve laughed, it was a pretty good one, but the orgasm that tore straight through you only allowed you to cry his name. Pussy locked tight around him you nearly left the table as everything broke inside you. The tension that’d he’d created was cut and you came with a near scream.

Bucky coaxed you through it, telling you how pretty you were, how good you looked. All you could do was whimper for him, aftershocks moving through you as he worked closer to his own end.

You opened your eyes to see him in front of you, fisting his cock above you as he panted your name. You’d never heard or seen something quite as good as this, he was something else entirely.

He came with a cry, painting across your stomach as he fell against the bench top. The both of you frozen in time, collecting yourselves and letting your brains set back to normal. Propping yourself back up, you looked at the gorgeous man lent over the sink.

“I know you’ve just put in the hard work,” You reasoned gesturing to your state. “But I could really do with another drink.”

[colossalcriminal]

Uptown Girl - s.r

Pairing: 40s!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: 25 year old Steve Rogers finds himself infatuated with the well off 18 year old girl who gets Howard Stark coffee.

Warnings: Smoking, alcohol consumption and character death. Not proofread and bad writing.

He'd seen her around plenty, hell, he knew her. Almost always gliding through the streets in the most beautiful designer dresses, sometimes with another girl, arms clad in shopping bags from some of the greatest fashion houses. She also had a knack for wearing trousers that accentuated her legs, always receiving a flustered reaction from the men around her.

It was no doubt she was stunning, perhaps the prettiest girl he'd ever seen in his short 24 years of living. Bucky had always teased him relentlessly, encouraging his best friend to 'snatch her up before someone else does.'

It was a regular occurrence for him to be saved in an alleyway by the sergeant, especially when Steve Rogers didn't know when to back down, or how to. It was only when he showed Steve the newspaper he noticed her figure further down the alley, puffs of smoke leaving her lips.

Steve Rogers found it hard to understand how someone as beautiful as her could commit to an ugly act such as smoking. He was ashamed to admit that the nasty habit hadn't once dwindled his infatuation towards her. "Hey, Y/N!" Bucky called out, gaining her attention. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

Y/N sauntered over to the men with her signature dazzling smile, lips painted in the most ravishing shade of red that'd printed onto the cigarette that rested between her fingers. "Howard's got me off early." She gasped, instantly putting the cigarette out. "Sorry, Steve. I almost forgot I shouldn't light one around you."

Steve's smile reeked with nerves. "It's okay." He stuttered.

"So, he's Howard now?" Bucky nudged her.

She rolled her eyes, resting a hand on her hip. "Put a cap on it, Barnes. Anyways, where are you boys off to?"

"Your boss' expo." He displayed the paper to her, pointing to the large ad.

With a small nod, her attention was back on the skinny boy. "Picking me up, Steve?"

Waking up from his day dream, finally in the headspace to speak to the magnificent woman before him, his nod was quick. "Huh? Oh, yes. Definitely."

"I'll see you later tonight at 6pm sharp, then. Bye." She grinned at the blonde, waving as she proceeded to walk away.

"Bye, Y/N." His reply was too quiet to hear as she was too far away, but the butterflies in his stomach didn't care for that. Sighing at Bucky's light chuckles, he shook his head, mentally scolding himself for the awkward interaction.

"At least you got a date."

"Yeah," He whispered to himself, almost impressed. "at least I got a date."

-

6:01pm his watch read as he stood before the house - mansion - nervous creeping up the back of his spine, the large house looming over him as if he were in a nightmare.

And it was the exact time she popped her head out of her bedroom window signaling to Steve. "Just wait a minute! Dad's home, so I have to escape!" She whisper-yelled.

He'd gotten a glance of her frock. His heart pounding at the view of her hair curled into perfect ringlets, makeup even more accentuating than it was earlier that day. He watched her disappear, before quietly slipping through the front door and making her way to him. "Sorry, he doesn't like me being out in the evening."

"Well, I can understand with a beautiful dame like you, sorry woman, not dame. Young woman."

Y/N giggled at his ramble. "You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?" Steve smiled bashfully at her lightheartedness. "It's alright, not like I'm anyone important."

He cocked his head inquisitively. "And what do you mean by that?"

Sighing, she looped her arm through his, an action that sent his vision loopy as he inwardly cheered. "I mean, I'm just a girl with big dreams who spends daddy's money and gets coffee for Howard Stark. Nothing big."

Steve maintained his unfazed exterior, resisting the urge to stare down at their linked arms. "Tell me about these big dreams."

"I want to be a scientist, well, more of a techy one like Howard is. The idea of flying cars within a few years is so, invigorating!" She beamed. "Don't you think?"

He smiled at her, nodding. "Well, I hope you'll be around to fly our first car, considering you're so insistent on enlisting."

"Bucky thinks I can't do it, that's why they keep rejecting me."

Y/N hummed, lips curling into a small pout. "I think you could do it," He perked up at this. "you could. But just because you can, doesn't mean you should, Steve."

Before he could respond, they'd already been greeted and called over from afar by Bucky.

Y/N didn't let herself feel too downhearted when Stark's flying car show failed, but she did find herself frowning when she followed Steve to the recruitment booth.

She pulled him towards her, Bucky not far off. "Come on, soldier." She joked. "Take me dancing."

"You go ahead, I'll catch up."

Guilt had presented itself to Steve on a silver platter when he saw her shoulders drop. "You're really going to do this again?" Bucky deadpanned, unimpressed.

"I'll leave you guys to talk it out. Meet me there?" The blonde nodded, missing her small wave as she departed.

An hour and 49 minutes later she found herself walking home alone, rubbing her arms in an attempt to abandon any feeling of cold, or even worse, loneliness.

-

It was 2 days later when Steve finally caught her leaving her office, cigarette in hand. He couldn't help it when he gazed at the pearl earrings she wore, framing her face so perfectly, accompanied by the stray hairs that'd escaped her updo.

"Y/N!"

His voice had only expanded her annoyance as she watched the smoke exit her mouth, ignoring his calls. "Go away, Rogers."

He panted, finally catching up to her. "I'm sorry, I really am."

"What for? The fact that you ditched me on our date or that you went radio silent for 2 days?"

He pursed his lips, closing his eyes in regret. "Please, let me take you out again before I start training?"

Y/N let out a dry chuckle. "Congrats." She put out her cigarette, still mindful of the blond's asthma. "That's not the point, Steve. I wanted to go out with you because I like you! Because you're different! But it turns out I was wrong. So, good luck in training, I'm sure you'll do great. If you're alive by the end of the war, come find me."

"Please, Y/N. I really, really like you."

She'd already began walking away. "You should've thought about that before you asked to get yourself killed."

Without much thought, Steve reached forward, wrapping his fingers around her wrist as soft as possible, the surprise on her face echoed onto his own. "And what if I don't die?"

Scoffing, she shook her head. "You sound so certain."

"Because I am."

"I will not wait for you to come home and receive a letter explaining your death instead."

"Deal."

With a peculiar brow, Y/N sighed. "Where are we going then, Mr. Rogers?"

His lips spread into a beautiful grin. "Anywhere you want, Ms. L/N."

They'd spent 3 full days together before Steve began training.

The first day was spent at and around the theatre, watching as many movies as possible and eating as much popcorn as one can.

The second day, he made it up to her by taking her dancing. Y/N took the time to teach him how to waltz, giggling every time he stepped on her shoes.

The third day was spent at his home, alone. Away from the crowded atmosphere of her house, she taught him how to cook the simplest of dishes, making sure he knew how to feed himself incase no one else did.

It was hard for her not to get teary eyed as Y/N layed her hands on his cheeks, cupping his face daintily. Steve leaned into the soft touch, corners of his mouth tugging downwards. "So, I guess this is goodbye."

"Yeah, it is." He whispered, eyes staring into hers with utmost intensity, a false reality in his head tricking him into believing he wouldn't have to leave her if their eyes never broke contact.

"You better make it back to me, Rogers."

"Of course I will, Y/N."

The grief had already sunk in her, the feeling in her belly so overwhelming, heart fluttering violently as she pulled him to her, lips touching so softly. Steve didn't freeze like he thought he would- he didn't have time to freeze. He did his best, pulling her closer and kissing him back with the most confidence he could muster.

Y/N's smile was almost minuscule when they pulled away, hands moving down to grip onto his uniform, her head in a lovesick daze. "How could I not make it back to you?"

"Well, I am your best girl."

He quirked an eyebrow. "My only girl."

"We'll see about that when you come home a war hero. All the ladies would drop down to your feet."

"All the women in the world and I'd still choose you."

Returning home, she closed the front door quietly, making her way to the living room to find her father engrossed in the small tv box. "Hi." She spoke quietly, hoping not to disturb him as she kissed his cheek, hoping to walk away.

"Sit." Y/N's father offered her the seat next to him, never taking his eyes off the program as she sunk into the sofa, her frock filling out around her. "Lowell's been talking a lot."

She stiffened slightly, subconsciously crossing her legs and straightening her shoulders. "Oh, you know not to listen to Lowell. All he does is gossip. Him and his wife, vultures they are."

"He tells me you've been spending a lot of time with Sarah's boy, Steve."

"Yes, I have. He just recently went off to train."

He finally looked at her. "You scared?"

"A little."

"Then it's a mistake."

Y/N's face was blank as she fiddled with her fingernails and stared off into the distance. "I know."

Her father shook his head. "Then you'll know to break it off."

"No, I won't." He looked perplexed at her reply. "Because it may be a mistake now, he may die any day, but at least I'd gotten the chance to be with him."

He only huffed, muttering something along the lines of "Childish."

She decided to change the subject, not wanting the conversation to sour even more. "Where's Eliza?"

"She's out."

"What are we watching?"

"The Mark of Zorro."

"Can we watch something else? Sullivan's Travels is on."

"No."

"I'll be in my room then."

"Fine."

She stood, getting one last glimpse of her father. "You know daddy, I do love him. And who knows? Maybe he'll survive. Maybe we'll get married and live a happily ever after. If that does happen, I hope you'll be happy for me."

-

She knew they were selecting the 'lucky' one to be titled 'super soldier.' She'd been working alongside Howard, the older man curious of her expertise for an 18 year old but nonetheless grateful for her help.

Y/N certainly didn't expect Steve to walk through the doors of the laboratory, accompanied by Peggy Carter. "Jesus Christ, Steve." She gasped, embracing him.

He wrapped his arms around her, concern growing when the smallest patch of tears had formed on his t-shirt. He watched as she pulled away. "Hi." Steve greeted.

"Oh, hi." She chuckled through tears. "I'm sorry, go talk to Erskine and we'll chat later." His hands lingered on her, before he slowly nodded, doing as told.

Minutes later, her fear only grew as he layed down in what she called the pod. "Comfortable?" She queried.

"It's a little big." He commented. Y/N graced him with her smile, a real, but concerned smile. "Maybe we could get dinner later?"

"Alright, loverboy. One thing at a time." She teased. "Howard, what are our levels?"

"Levels at 100%."

"I have to say something," He almost begged. "I think I'm in love with you."

Chuckling, she held his face in her hands. "I think I'm in love with you, too, Steve." Blowing him a kiss, she waved her love goodbye before leaving to stand beside Howard. "We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready as we'll ever be."

She just barely missed Steve's terrified, longing glance that had remained on her back as she worked diligently, how the cold metal around him sent shivers down his spine, aching for the warmth of her touch.

Erskine began his speech into the microphone. "but we are ready as we'll ever be. today we take not another step towards annihilation, but the first step on the path to peace. We begin with a series of microinjections into the subject's major muscle groups. The serum infusion will cause immediate cellular change. And then, to stimulate growth, the subject will be saturated with Vita-Rays. Serum infusion beginning in five, four, three, two, one."

Hesitating the slightest bit, Y/N pulled the lever, eyes tearing at Steve's small grunts as each small vial emptied itself. Howard pulled his own lever, elevating the pod into a standing form, closing the blonde in. "Steven? Can you hear me?"

"It's probably too late to go to the bathroom now, right?"

She couldn't help but smile at his witty answer. "We will proceed."

"10%."

"20%."

"30."

"That's 40%."

"Vital signs are normal."

"That's 50%."

"60."

"70."

The beam emitting from the pod became too bright for the eye, the sound of Steve's groans had morphed into pained screams, shattering Y/N's heart with every yell. "Shut it down! Kill the reactor, Howard!"

"No!" He protested. "Don't! I can do this!"

Howard looked at her with a sense of sympathy. "Eighty."

"Ninety."

"That's 100%."

Sparks had erupted throughout the machinery, surges of light blinding them until it had died down, everything and everyone dead silent. Within seconds, the pod had opened, revealing a brand new Steve Rogers.

Y/N cried in relief, instantly running to tend to him, helping him out of the device. "You did it, sweetheart."

"I did it."

"Yes, you did. How do you feel?"

He panted, surveying his surroundings before looking down at her. "Taller."

She barely took a minute to lock her gaze onto the newly formed muscles on his body.

With a giggle, she handed him a shirt. "You look taller." He grinned, using his newfound strength to pick her up, a loud squeal leaving her painted lips.

A loud explosion went off, the glass pane that guarded the viewing room had shattered onto the people congratulating Erskine below. Erskine had fallen to the ground after multiple gunshots, Steve making his way to the scientist while Y/N had continued shooting at the perpetrator as he escaped, soon running after him.

Running out onto the street, she caught her breath, deathly stare on the car that had her target. She shot once, no luck. Once again, the vehicle had swerved, colliding with a parked car nearby.

Kruger had gotten into a different car, accelerating at full speed towards the young woman, challenging her as she raised her gun once again.

No impact or gunshot ever occurred as Steve had pulled her out of the way, leaving her on the sidewalk. "I had him!"

"Sorry!" He ran, leaving her to pursue Kruger himself.

-

After Y/N had helped Steve save the men of the 107th, the pair had received a few weeks of reprieve in the beautiful city of London.

Steve admired her as she applied the black pigment onto her eyes with utmost accuracy, the trousers and blouse she wore complimenting her in such marvelous ways he couldn't comprehend. He got up from where he stood, taking long strides towards her, placing a hand on her waist and smiling when his reflection came into view on her vanity mirror. "Hi."

"Hello." She giggled, leaning into him. "Enjoying the view?"

He nodded, swiftly turning her to face him. His grin had dropped into a sly smile as he let go of her, ignoring her inquisitive looks as he dropped down, one knee hitting the carpeted floor. Pulling out a small box, she gasped instantly. "The ring isn't expensive, or lavish." He started, displaying the solitaire diamond ring.

"Oh my god, Steve."

"I love you, Y/N. I want to grow old with you, and share my life with you. I want to have a future with you, and I want it to start now. Right here in this obnoxiously rainy place," They both laughed. "will you marry me?"

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, nodding with clouded eyes filled with tears. "Oh, of course I'll marry you, Steve." She pulled him up, smushing his face against her own into a kiss, the pair of them smiling into it. "I wouldn't want anything else."

Steve wasn't lying when he said he wanted to start now, within 5 days he stood at the end of a chapel with Bucky by his side as best man and Y/N in a pearly white frock and a makeshift veil bought at the nearest corner shop.

It didn't matter that the dress was picked out last minute, or that the veil was advertised to be a gag gift. Nothing could rival the grins on the couples' faces when they said "I do." rings slipping onto their fingers and lips joining in a moment of utter bliss.

It was later that night when Y/N crawled out of bed, slipping on Steve's blazer to shield her bare body from the cold air seeping into the bedroom through the open window. Sitting at the desk, pen in hand, she sucked in a deep breath.

Dear daddy,

We're in London now. Steve managed to save the men of the 107th, I'm sure you've seen the posters all around. He's America's beacon of hope.

I hope Eliza and ma are good. I hope you're good.

I'm writing to let you know that Steve and I got married today. It was fast, we just got engaged last week, but nothing has ever felt more right. Writing this letter, the ring sparkling in the moonlight, it's perfect. I don't regret anything.

Steve has assembled his team, they called themselves the Howling Commandos and I couldn't be more proud. He promises that once they get all of HYDRA's bases, the war will be over and everything will hopefully go back to normal.

I got my happy end, daddy. I know it's not the end, it's just the beginning of a perfect life. A perfect life with my perfect husband, and hopefully my perfect family. I hope you're happy for me.

With all my love,

Y/N Rogers.

"What are you writing, Mrs. Rogers?" Steve queried, sat upright in bed.

Y/N smirked before climbing back into bed, ridding herself of the severely oversized blazer. "Nothing, Mr. Rogers."

The pair broke out into a fit of laughter as he pulled her close, hand trailing up and down her back, dangerously close to the soft skin of her backside.

-

2 years later, a year after the well grieved death of Bucky Barnes, Y/N had turned 20 and the couple had decided it was time to add to their family now that some light was finally at the end of the tunnel after a long 6 years of war.

Tangled in a mess of sheets, limbs intertwined, Y/N rested her head on her lover's heartbeat. "Do you think we made a baby?" She asked timidly.

"Maybe." She let out a faint giggle, eliciting a look of confusion from the super soldier. "What is it?"

"Do you think the baby will be super duper strong? A mini Steve who can lift an entire car up as a little boy?"

Steve chuckled, snuggling her closer. "Or a little girl, just as strong as you. Either way, they'd be beautiful."

She hummed, a hand on his cheek. "With my eyes and your beautiful blond hair, I'd think so."

It was that same day Y/N would find herself supervising one of Steve's missions from base. "Come in, this is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?"

She instantly rushed over to the microphone. "Steve? Is that you? Are you okay?"

"Y/N! Schmidt's dead!"

"What about the plane?"

"That's a little bit tougher to explain."

She huffed. "Give me your coordinates, I'll find you a safe landing site."

"There's not going to be a safe landing. But I can try and force it down."

"I'll get Howard on, he'll know what to do."

"There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York. I got to put her in the water."

Y/N's stomach dropped, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest as she anxiously twisted her wedding and engagement rings. "Please don't do this. We have time, we can work this out." She begged, eyes brimming with tears.

"Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are going to die, sweetheart. This is my choice, Y/N." She didn't say anything, her head dropping onto the palm of her hands. "Y/N, honey?"

"I'm here."

"We might have to reschedule that doctor's appointment."

Taking in a shaky breath, she wiped the tears of her cheeks with haste, as if Steve could see her. "Alright. I'll book it for Monday."

"You got it."

"10am, on the dot. We can't be late, it's our baby. If there is one in there."

"I want you to know, I love you, Y/N. No matter what. You'll always be my best girl. My only girl."

"I love you too, Steve."

"I was thinking about names. I want to name it after your dad if it's a boy."

She choked a sob, nodding. "Yeah, yeah. I don't mind."

"And if it's a girl-"

"Steve?" Nothing. Not a single breath. She collapsed onto the desk in a mess of tears and loud cries, not caring for Colonel Phillips who stood behind her, a look of pity set on her back.

-

2011 was a long way away from 1945, Steve thought.

It'd taken him too long to come to terms with the fact that his wife was most likely dead, but when Nick Fury had presented him a box of her belongings, he couldn't help but shed a tear as he sat on the floor of his apartment going through it.

He'd found the necklace he gifted her on their first wedding anniversary, an accessory he now wore himself under his clothing, slipping her wedding and engagement ring onto the chain before putting it on. He grasped it close to his heart, a melancholy sigh leaving his lips.

His eyes narrowed when he came across an unfamiliar book, flipping it open.

Dear Steve,

The war is finally over as of 2 days ago, Japan formally surrendered. I wish you were able to celebrate the victory you worked so hard for.

You missed our doctor's appointment today. You'll be sleeping on the couch tonight after I reminded you to be there at 10am, no later.

I'm pregnant, Steve. What we've been waiting so long for has finally happened and you're not here to see it. I've decided to work with Howard once the baby is here, he'll give me flexible hours and good pay. Enough to keep us going and Peggy's good company.

I'm alone now, now Bucky to help me out, no you. I think I'll keep the house. It would be nice for the baby to grow up in the house we bought together.

I don't know why I've started writing in this stupid thing.

With all my love,

Y/N.

The super soldier let out a strained sob at the confirmation. She was pregnant, and he wasn't there.

He'd missed the entirety of his child's life, and the rest of hers.

The next few pages were short blurbs of her outings with Peggy and Howard, grocery lists and so on.

Dear Steve,

The baby is getting big, I've got a little bump now. Only 24 weeks to go.

Everyone is really excited, maybe more than I am. It's all over the papers "Wife of Captain America pregnant with America's Next Hope."

In truth, I don't want our child to be America's Next Hope.

I just want them to be happy and healthy, and to stay with me forever.

Howard's started building the crib, I told him not to make it too technical. He's putting all kinds of soothers and all everywhere, but it's still nice of him to do so. Peggy took me to London for Christmas and New Year's, we had a nice time and she bought me this beautiful dress. You would've loved it.

I miss you, Steve.

Merry Christmas and a happy new year, my love.

Forever yours,

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

It's getting warmer, and April has never felt hotter. Howard and Peggy keep saying it's just me and my big belly. Well, what else would I expect at 7 months pregnant?

Sometimes I feel you around. I'll feel you sitting at the kitchen counter, reading the paper. Or your hand on my belly in the morning. You're all over the house and somehow it's breaking and mending my heart at the same time.

These daily entries are getting a bit boring now, aren't they?

I hope you read these in a different lifetime, maybe.

Your only girl,

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

Josephine Sarah Stephanie Rogers was born on the 6th of June, 1946.

I named her after your dad, Joe.

I know we never talked about girl names, but I looked at her and I couldn't resist. I just know our little girl is going to change the world, just like your father tried to.

She's a carbon copy of you. Your gorgeous blue eyes, bright blonde hair. She's absolutely perfect, Steve.

And I just know that if you'd met her, she'd have you wrapped around her finger.

But she's all ours, baby. Our little angel, and I couldn't thank you enough for giving me such a stunning gift. Thank you for making me a mother, Steve, it's the best thing I could've ever received from you.

We love you to the moon and back,

Y/N and Josephine.

Steve held his hand to his mouth. He was a father, a father to what would now be a 65 year old woman. A woman who'd already lived most her life, achieved a majority of her milestones, all without him.

Dear Steve,

Happy birthday, my love.

Josephine and I made a cake for you. Today you would have turned 28 years old.

Colonel Phillips visited me today. It was brief, really. He played with Josephine and wished us well.

As I write this ridiculous entry, the wedding rings on my finger feel so heavy, unlike ever before. My heart constantly aches for you, but I will wait. I will wait until it is my time, and I hope you'll be waiting for me at the gates of heaven.

Your ever most loving wife,

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

It's been one year since you've been gone.

I miss you, more than anything in the world.

I'll see you soon, but not too soon.

Dear Steve,

Josephine turned 1 today.

Howard and Peggy threw a party, and you know how Howard's parties are. This one was child friendly, though. He brought a circus and entertained Josephine and all of her little friends from daycare.

Daddy dropped by. He loves Josephine, and he spent most of the day telling her all about you.

She said her first word today. Guess what it was!

Dada. She said your name, Steve. And she'll never forget it.

Wait for me,

Y/N.

Steve only brushed his tears away, flipping through every entry over the next few years.

Dear Steve,

Jo turned 16 today.

It's so odd to think that just 16 years ago I was only 20, trying my best to bring her into the world. We made such a beautiful young woman, Steve, and she's exactly like you. She has a hard shell but she's a big softie on the inside.

I've never been so grateful for a human being. She takes care of me, always telling me the best things to use and the best things to buy instead of it being the other way around. She's my protector, my guardian angel. In that way, she took your place.

Peggy helped me throw a big birthday party for her, she deserves it. She's worked so hard in and out of school. All of her friends came, they danced and ate. We got a massive cake to go with it.

Everyday she hugs your picture and thanks you, and today was no different.

I hope you're looking down on us with a smile, sweetheart.

Y/N.

Dear Steve,

Jo turned 18 a few days ago. I couldn't write because I took her to Paris for her birthday.

I'd been planning the trip for a long time, saving up as much as I could. She loved it! She also told me she got into Juilliard, which is a performing arts school in New York. It's far, farther away than she's ever been from me, but it's only an hour drive. She promises to come home every weekend.

I don't have to worry about paying for it anymore after Howard, Phillips, Peggy and I founded SHIELD. It's protection for the world, saving lives, just like you did.

I have to go, Jo's asking me to help her pack.

I love you,

Y/N.

He read through the brief entries of Y/N's time at SHIELD, before stopping at a picture. Juilliard, class of 1969.

She was right. Jo had inherited all of Steve's looks, from the blonde hair and blue eyes to the kind smile she graced the camera with.

Steve finally got to the end of the journal. Recovering after reading through her daughter's longtime boyfriend turned husband, the births of their grandchildren, the death of Howard Stark and more.

Dear Steve,

I like to think I lived a good 76 years of life. I lived to see the year 2001.

I got an education, got myself a job despite spending my father's money because I was young and stupid. I met you, the skinny boy who told me to follow my dreams of being a scientist. I fell in love with you, and the new you that emerged after the serum.

My love for you is eternal, which has been proven in the 55 years I've spent without you.

I lived to see my only child succeed, I lived to walk her down the aisle. I lived to see my beautiful grandchildren.

I've lived more than enough, and I think it's finally time to come home to you, honey.

I'll see you soon.

Y/N.

Steve brought his left hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the wedding band that rested on his finger.

-

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back." Steve smirked, carrying the briefcase containing the six infinity stones.

Bucky gave him a sad smile. "How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you." They shared a hug. "I'm gonna miss you, buddy. Tell her I said hi."

"Yeah, Buck. It's gonna be alright."

"How long is this going to take?" Sam questioned as the super soldier stepped onto the heavy machinery.

"For him, as long is he needs. For us, 5 seconds. Ready Cap?"

"I'll be back."

Y/N paced around, lip caught between her teeth. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" She stopped abruptly, turning to face the new voice.

Sighing a breath of relief, she leaped into his arms. "Steve! You're back."

"Yeah, honey. I'm back."

[xjoonchildx]

guilty | knj x reader | final chapter: is something burning?

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, SMUT WARNINGS APPLY in this chapter sorry i’m yelling stressed!joon, sweaty!joon, sober!joon all make an appearance

rating: 18+

word count: 7.9K

notes: okay, so i stressed a bit about this chapter.  i got really in my head over it, but i hope it ends in a way that’s satisfying to all of you guys.  i’ve heard from some of the most amazing readers about this story -- i appreciate you all so much and i’d love to hear from you about how you feel about the ending.

special love to the best beta hands down periodt amen @hobi-gif​​, the lady who inspired it all with her adorable brand of namjoon thirst @sahmfanficbts​​, and three people who mean the world to me point blank period @ladyartemesia​​ @ppersonna​​ @taetaewonderland​​

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

*************************

There’s this thing that happens when you’re getting over a cold.

Slowly -- as your breathing returns to normal -- you can taste again.  Your head clears and your senses come back to life and you savor everything you eat like it’s the best thing you’ve ever had.  Your appetite returns.  

And all at once, you are starving.

That’s what it’s like after Namjoon touches you.

All he had to do was cup your face in one large, warm hand and it feels like your entire body has been jump-started.  Like parts of you that have been dormant for years are now awake, nerve endings exposed and aching.  Like all the tiny pieces of you that have been scattered and lost for so long are now found and fitting back together.

For the first time in a long time you remember what it feels like to want.

It’s not like you didn’t know you cared for Namjoon.  You knew it deep down in the way you took pride in providing for his needs.  You knew it in the way it made you feel to see appreciation reflected back in his dark eyes.

But you didn’t understand how much you wanted him until that night in his office.  

In those few charged moments, Namjoon made you feel more desired with his gaze than other men have with their hands.  You let down your guard and allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to touch him, to be touched by him. You let yourself embrace the fantasy of being his in every way.

And then it was over.

Whatever spell he was under was broken and whatever existed in the air between you evaporated.  The hunger in his eyes turned into remorse and you’d left his office on trembling legs, reeling from the whiplash of it all.

Today, you stare out at the window across from your desk, unable to suppress the hurt that grips your chest.  You can barely concentrate on the numbers on the sheet in front of you, mind replaying the events in that office.  

Namjoon should never have touched you.  

He should never have roused the parts of you that had been long forgotten between doctors visits and pharmacy runs.  He should never have made you feel things no other man ever has or probably ever will.

And he should have never let you believe, even for one second, that he could care for you the way you do for him.

He should have just left you alone.

*********************

No one ever tells you that when you devote your life to caring for someone else’s needs, yours end up falling by the wayside.  That who you are ends up diminished somehow, buried underneath the weight of responsibility and worry.

Jinjoo finds you sitting in the chair next to your mother’s bed, staring at one lock of hair threaded through your fingers.  You’re frowning at the split ends you’ve not had a chance to tend to, the ones you hide by keeping your hair pulled back.

She sweeps into the room, carrying a bowl of kimchi.

“It’s Saturday. The sun is shining and you should go out.  Maybe to the salon, hmm?”

You glance up just as she’s placing the food on a tray at the foot of your mother’s bed.  She smiles to soften the blow of her observation and you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed at her well-meaning meddling.  It’s nice to be fussed over for a change.

“I can’t even remember the last time I went to the salon,” you admit, eyes locking on an unsightly chip in your nail polish.  “I usually end up cutting it myself.”

“Well, that won’t do,” Jinjoo scolds, hands on hips.  “Today I want you to go out and do something just for you.  Go and get the works.  You’re far too young to be stuck in this house all the time.”

You consider her offer for a moment.  Here in the quiet of your mother’s room it’s far too easy to let your mind wander back to the encounter with Namjoon.  Far too easy to dwell on the ache that surfaces every time you remember.

“Go on, Ttal.”

You turn in the direction of your mother’s voice and find her stirring from her nap.  She places one soft hand over yours and squeezes.  “She’s right.  Go take some time away.  I’ll be fine here with Jinjoo.”

“See?” Jinjoo waves a hand to shoo you out of the chair. You stand and she immediately takes your place in the seat.  “Your mother agrees.  Now go.  And buy something pretty to wear while you’re at it.”

You look from her to your mother and see both women wearing matching expressions of encouragement.  

You decide they’re right.

So you spend the rest of your day pampering yourself and shopping and definitely not thinking about Kim Namjoon.  

You don’t think about him when you read the book he recommended to you once at the salon, you don’t think about him when you stop for a bite at his favorite Tteokbokki stand and you definitely don’t think about him when you buy a new sweater that makes you feel beautiful.

You definitely don’t think about him at all.

*****************************

NAMJOON

Kim Namjoon’s father was a pig.

A glutton of the worst kind, he hoarded money and guns and drugs and because no one ever tried to stop him.  He used and abused everything and everyone just because he could.

Namjoon hated to watch the sadistic games his father played with people.  He hated that the man seemed to direct the worst of his cruelty at the women in his life.  

Namjoon’s own sister left everything behind to escape his violence and abuse and somehow his father was even more vicious with the women he bedded and discarded at random.  He dangled things like money and security and love in front of them like bait, only to yank it all away on a whim.

That’s why Namjoon has worked so hard his entire life to prove to others -- to prove to himself -- that he’s better than the piece of shit who raised him.  

That’s why the look on your face in his office that night cut so deep.

That look pierced straight through the lust and the scotch clouding his judgement and forced him to step back and see the situation for what it was. It made him feel sick to think he might have made you feel like his help came with conditions.  That he’d done what he had expecting you to give yourself to him in return.  

He couldn’t allow you to think he’d use his money to try and buy you.  That’s something his father would have done.

And Kim Namjoon is not his fucking father.

So this morning he finds himself walking towards your desk, determined to make it right.  You don’t register his approach as you work quietly and Namjoon has a quick moment to take you in.

There’s something different about you.

Namjoon can’t put his finger on it, but when he gets close enough for you to notice his presence and you glance up at him from under those long lashes, you look changed somehow.

Rested. Radiant.

The second you register that it’s him though, the look on your face changes.  You stand up from your chair, expression shuttered, tone formal.

“Mister Kim,” you murmur.  “How can I help you this morning?”

“Please sit,” Namjoon starts quietly.  “I, uh --” He digs his nails into his palm, annoyed with the hesitation in his delivery.  Spit it out, you moron.

“-- I owe you an apology.”

Your lips part in surprise before you close your mouth, sinking slowly back into your chair.  

Namjoon rubs one hand across the back of his neck, stealing a sideways glance at Seokjin’s office door.  It remains closed and he’s glad for it.  The last thing he’d want is an audience for this embarrassing exchange.

“The other night I was --” he clears his throat awkwardly.  Loaded. Horny. Stupid.  

He eventually lands on a less damning adjective.  “-- not entirely appropriate with you.”

You blink back but keep quiet so Namjoon keeps talking.

“I shouldn’t have acted that way,” he acknowledges weakly.  “That’s not normally how I treat my employees.  And I’m sorry.”

Spots of color appear in your cheeks.

“Well as your employee, I admit it wasn’t appropriate for me to just turn up in your office without notice, either,” you reply quietly.  “I think I was just shocked by your generosity. It’s a lot of money, and I --”

“-- Don’t think anything of it,” Namjoon interjects quickly.  “You’ve saved me that amount and more with your audits.  It only made sense to repay you for your efforts.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and Namjoon knows it immediately.  It’s not the truth -- not by a mile -- and judging by the look that passes over your face, it’s definitely not what you wanted to hear.

“Mister Kim.”

“Yes?” Namjoon replies, only to realize that you are now looking past him and that he’s not the only one answering.

He turns slowly to find Seokjin standing behind him, wearing an expression halfway between curiosity and scrutiny.  Namjoon’s nails dig back into his palms, leaving tiny indents in the skin.

“Good morning,” you continue, turning your attention fully to Seokjin.  Seokjin looks between you and Namjoon before answering.

“Good morning to you, too,” he says slowly.

“If you’re ready to go over the new audits, I have more information to cover with you,” you say, pointing at the papers riddled with notes on your desk.  Namjoon stands there like an idiot, watching the two of you interact like he’s not even there.

“Sure,” Seokjin agrees, eyes darting back to Namjoon.  “Let’s go ahead and get into the numbers.”

“Great,” you say with a smile, standing to organize your papers into a folder.  

You look back at Namjoon like he’s an afterthought and the realization stings.  “If that was all you needed, I’ve got some work to handle now.”

The nails in his palm are this close to drawing blood.  

He cuts his eyes at Seokjin who immediately looks away.

“Certainly,” he says under his breath.  “Let me not keep you.”

You turn your back on him to head into Seokjin’s office.

***********************

Namjoon stares out at the setting sun from his office window.

He’s spent the last few days hiding out in here, avoiding everything and everyone.  Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin -- his phone keeps lighting up with calls he won’t answer.  His already black mood darkens every time his mind replays the seemingly endless string of disastrous exchanges with you.

He still can’t figure out how he’s managed to fuck things up so royally.

He still can’t figure out why he didn’t just tell you the truth about the money and about Jinjoo. He should have just admitted outright that for once he wanted to be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.  He should have just admitted that you mean something to him.

That’s the real reason why things are so screwed up right now.

It would be so simple if this was just about sex.  It would be so simple if Namjoon could just get you into bed and get you out of his system.  But you’re not Mina or Yejin or any of the others.  

You’re not like any woman he’s ever known.

Namjoon leans back into his chair just as his cell phone lights again and he grabs it just long enough to reject the call before tossing it back onto his desk.  He rubs his fingers across his mouth and watches the sun fall behind the nearby skyscrapers.

You deserve so much more than he is capable of giving you.

You deserve happiness and security and certainty.  What you don’t deserve is to be toyed with by a man who doesn’t know what his future looks like.  A man who’s still so damaged by his own upbringing that he worries he’ll never be capable of being a decent husband and father.

Truthfully, Namjoon doesn’t know which scenario scares him more.  

The one where he tries -- and fails -- to give you the things you need, or the one where he drifts through the rest of his life anchored to no one and nothing.

The sound of an incoming text interrupts his maudlin thoughts.

Namjoon reaches for his phone and sighs as he reads the waiting message.

reservations at doore yoo, 8 PM [ 6:32 PM ]

join me [ 6:32 PM ]

it’s been too long [ 6:33 PM ]

***********************

“Mister Kim.”

The Maitre’d at Doore Yoo bows in Namjoon’s direction, flashing a wide smile. “A pleasure to have you back.”

“Thank you Sungho,” Namjoon murmurs, scanning the crowded dining room.  “Is she waiting for me?”

“She is,” Sungho confirms.

Namjoon follows him past the tables packed with patrons to the exclusive dining area hidden away in the back.  This is his regular table, inside his regular private room -- but when Sungho slides the door open, Namjoon stops short and nearly tells the man he’s made a mistake.

The young woman waiting for him inside is unrecognizable.

From the back, Namjoon can see that her dark hair has been swept into a careful updo, shoulders and skin bared in a delicate spaghetti-strap top.  But that can’t be right.

Because she would never --

“Jaegyueo.”

Namjoon’s sister lifts her chin and smiles as he steps around the table.  

He catches himself staring, momentarily thrown by the sight in front of him.  It’s the first time in his life he can recall seeing his sister wearing something that doesn’t cover the jagged scar that crosses her collarbone.  The scar that she’s spent a lifetime hiding, ashamed of the way it made her look and feel.  At once, the realization hits him -- the hundreds of different ways she’s changed, big and small since falling in love with Hoseok.  

Every last one of them for the better.

“Amsaja, you look -- ” Namjoon pauses to brush a kiss across her cheek, “ -- wonderful.”

She flushes.

“Thank you. Now sit,” she orders kindly, reaching for her wine glass.  “For a minute there I thought you might not show.”

Namjoon exhales, sinking into his seat.  

“For a minute there, I almost didn’t,” he admits.  “It’s been a shitty week.”

His sister says nothing, smiling like a sphinx as a server appears to offer Namjoon his own drink.  

“Club soda on ice,” Namjoon orders quietly.  “Thanks.”

Her poker face slips then, one eyebrow lifting in surprise at seeing him forgo his usual scotch.  She sips her wine thoughtfully before speaking.

“Talk to me, Namjoon.”

“There’s little to talk about,” he deflects irritably, staring past her to the art on the walls.  

“Hoseok says you’ve barely left your office.  Won’t take his calls.”

Namjoon grits his teeth, hackles raising immediately.

“Tell Hoseok he should work on his pillow talk,” he says sharply, and the second the words leave his mouth he regrets them.  Namjoon sees the change in his sister’s demeanor, watches her eyes sharpen from across the table.  

“Forgive me,” he apologizes quickly.  “That was uncalled for.  I’m fucking things up left and right these days, it seems.”

His sister stares back at him.  Namjoon knows that face, knows she’s now opted to abandon her charm offensive for a more direct approach.  He knows it’s exactly what he deserves for being an asshole.

“That’s my understanding, yes,” she says tightly.  “As smart as you are, you seem to be doing some very stupid shit lately.”

Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, cheeks warming at her rebuke.

“You’re right,” he admits.  “But I’m going to need you to be more specific about which stupid shit you want to talk about tonight.”

“Don’t be dense,” his sister scolds.  “Clearly, you’re tied up in knots over your assistant.  Oh, I’m sorry -- I mean former assistant.”

Namjoon’s defeated sigh hangs in the air for a moment.

“Is that what Hoseok says?”

“That’s what everyone says,” his sister fires back.  “You think you’re such a mystery but I assure you, you’re actually quite transparent.  Sending her away to work for Seokjin? Hiring a private nurse?  Good grief, Namjoon.  Real subtle.”

Shit, he wishes he had a scotch right now.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to explain to me why you’re playing this stupid game of push and pull with this woman.  If you care about her, do something about it instead of lashing out at everyone around you because you’re angry with yourself.”

“She’s not --” Namjoon falters as he searches for a proper explanation, “-- she has a complicated life right now.  I’m just trying to help her the only way I know how.”

His sister leans back in her chair, wine glass tipped in his direction.

“You know what I think?  I think you like her too much and I think that’s freaking you out.  And I think you’re going to miss out on a good thing because you won’t get your head out of your ass.”

Namjoon stares back at his sister.

“I think you might be right,” he concedes, after a heavy silence.  

“Namjoon, I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” his sister says quietly.  “Whatever you’re feeling, she’s feeling it too.”

He knows that’s true. It’s been damned near impossible not to feel the charged air between you, impossible not to share passing looks and fleeting touches while working in such close quarters.  When he looks at you he knows instinctively that you feel the same pull.  It’s only made his precarious position that much harder.

“I just --” he shakes his head as he tries to justify his inaction, “-- I have no idea what I’m offering her.  I don’t know what I’m capable of giving her.  Beyond money, of course.”

His sister laughs.  

Namjoon waits for her to collect herself, ears warm with embarrassment.  He resists the childish impulse to kick her under the table.

“Is that funny to you?”

“Hilarious, actually,” she teases.  “You have no idea what you have to offer her?  You’re one of the most powerful men in this city, Namjoon.  There’s nothing you couldn’t offer her.”

The server arrives with dumplings and sets them in the middle of the table, and his sister reaches for one.

“If she’s this important to you, I know there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for her,” she continues.  “Stop overthinking this. You’re a good man.  Everything else is icing on the cake.”

“I haven’t acted like a good man lately,” he confesses, shaking his head.  “She came to my office a few nights ago and I acted like a drunk, groping asshole.  Like father, like son.”

His sister sets her wine glass down, hard.

“You’re nothing like our father, Namjoon,” she says, eyes flashing with anger.  “Quit telling yourself you don’t deserve happiness out of some misguided, misplaced guilt.  And whatever happened in that office can be fixed.  If you want to fix it.”

Namjoon watches the bubbles in his club soda surface and break.  He does want to fix it.  He wants to figure out a way to stop fucking everything up where you’re concerned.

“I do,” he admits.

“Have you apologized?”

“Awkwardly. Not sure that it helped my case.”

“Then I think you need to offer her the one thing that’s more valuable than your money, Jaegyueo.”

Namjoon lifts an eyebrow at his sister.

“What’s that?”

She plucks a dumpling off the plate with her chopsticks and points it at him.

“Give her your time.”

****************************

YOU

It’s freezing tonight.

You wrap your arms around yourself and brace against the biting wind as you approach your family home.  You’re dead on your feet, worn after a long day at the office -- and for the thousandth time since her arrival you silently give thanks for Jinjoo.  

Knowing your mother is taken care of while you’re gone and coming back to a clean home and warm meals has eased your burdens immeasurably.  

Of course, it’s all really thanks to Kim Namjoon -- but that’s something you’re not allowing your mind to dwell on right now.  You’ve worked hard over the past few days to push any thought of that man back to the furthest recesses of your mind.  

You’re peeling out of your scarf and coat in the foyer when a laugh echoes down the long hallway.  It’s the sound of your mother’s laugh -- clear in a way you haven’t heard in a very long time -- and it’s definitely not coming from her room.

“Eomma?” you call out as you walk towards the sound.  A peal of Jinjoo’s laughter rings out next and you smile, following it.

You round the corner to the living room and your mouth drops open when you spot your mother, fully dressed for the first time in ages, sitting on the formal couch.  Jinjoo is seated next to her, both women smiling and laughing at --

Oh God.

Namjoon stands from his seat on the opposite couch when your eyes meet his.  His cheeks are pinked from the cold, hair tousled from the wind, and he looks so handsome that for a moment you forget how to think.  

“Welcome home,” he says, dimples emerging from his slow, careful smile.

You stare back at him, rooted to the spot.  Your face warms when you realize that every single eye in the room is trained on you, awaiting your next move.

“Do you -- ” Namjoon clears his throat, “ -- do you think I could have a minute of your time?”

“What are you doing here?” you say, blowing right past his question.

Jinjoo makes a disapproving sound under her breath.

“Ttal,” your mother interjects with a tone that borders very close to warning, “Mister Kim came by to talk to you.  He kept the two of us company until you came home.”

You turn to look at her and -- is she wearing lipstick?

“Yes,” Namjoon adds quickly, turning the warmth of his smile back to your mother and Jinjoo. “And they’ve been wonderful company. Thank you, ladies.”

The two of them titter like schoolgirls enjoying the attention of the most popular boy in school while you just stare.

And stare.

“Ttal?”

Your mother’s voice breaks through your mental fog.  You look back at her and Jinjoo and both women appear to be holding their breath, awaiting your response.  Jinjoo’s eyes are pleading when they meet yours, silently begging you to play nice.

You turn back to Namjoon slowly.

“One minute.”

“Great,” he breathes, shoving a hand through his hair.

“Not here.”

The words come out more sharply than you’d intended and your mother’s eyes go wide. Jinjoo sighs.

“What I mean to say,” you start again, delivery clumsy, “Is that we should probably step outside.”

“Of course,” Namjoon agrees.

You will your leaden legs and feet to cooperate as you turn to leave, grabbing your coat from the foyer closet on the way.  You slip it on and lead Namjoon out to the front porch, immediately wincing at the bitter cold that greets you.  

The door clicks shut and you burrow deep into your coat, turning to face him.  You force yourself to ignore the warmth that blossoms in your chest when his mouth curves into a soft smile.

“Your mother seems to be doing well tonight,” Namjoon notes. “I’m glad to see it.”

It’s not fair.  It’s not fair that he can just show up here on a whim -- looking like that, talking like that.  

Charming everyone in his path.  

“Namjoon, I’m going to ask again.  What are you doing here?”

The smile on his face falls and he looks skyward, exhaling a puff of steam into the cold night air.

”I’m here to come clean,” he confesses quietly.  “Thought I might do this new thing where I try not to act like an idiot around you.”

“Oh,” you breathe, stomach fluttering wildly in response.

A lock of his hair falls over his eye when he looks back down and you smother the urge to brush it back, hands balling into fists in your pockets.

“Thought I might do this new thing where I just tell you the truth.”

You’ve tried so hard these past few days to be angry with him, to use your hurt feelings like a wall around your heart.  But you can’t anymore.  He looks down at you with those huge, dark eyes and your grudge falls apart.

“I care about you,” he admits.  “I’ve been stumbling over my own feet for weeks because I didn’t know how to approach you about it. And then that night in the office,” he trails off, looking pained.  “That is not how I intended to treat you.”

A gust of wind blows through and you curl into yourself, teeth chattering.  Namjoon pulls off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders.  

“Please don’t,” you protest weakly.  “You’ll freeze.”

“I won’t,” he promises, stepping closer.  

You wrap the wool tight around your body, enjoying the way his lingering heat and scent wrap around you at the same time.  Your heart is beating so wildly you can hear your pulse in your ears.

“Namjoon,” you whisper. “You must know I feel the same way.”

He reaches one hand up to stroke his fingers across your cheek.

“I was really hoping you’d say that.”

He’s so close now that all it would take is the slightest tip of your chin, the most incremental change in angle to press your mouth to his. But he doesn’t close the small distance between you.  His gaze shifts to the street and you follow it, only now realizing a black sedan has been idling outside your house this entire time.  

Your cheeks flame hot at the thought of his driver witnessing this exchange.

“I want a chance to do this the right way,” he murmurs.  “Can I have it?”

You nod, waiting for your mouth to catch up to your brain.  “Of course.”

He smiles wide then, the kind of smile you haven’t seen on him in a long time and once again you’re struck by how handsome he is.  He narrows his eyes playfully when he realizes you are staring.

“Let’s get you inside before you get sick.”

You nod, pulling off his coat and watching as he shrugs back into it. He grabs for your hand, fingers brushing against yours just as you reach for the door.

“Good night, Namjoon,” you say softly.  

He squeezes your cold fingers with his.

“Good night.”

***************************

Namjoon sends his driver for you.

You shift uncomfortably in the backseat of the sleek car, avoiding Chun’s gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror.  Up until now, you knew him only as the voice on the other end of the line when you’d arranged for Namjoon’s rides.

Now you’re matching a face with a voice -- and so is he.

You try not to dwell on how this must look after the scene outside your home just a few nights ago.  Especially now that he’s been tasked with taking you to Namjoon’s penthouse.

It’s embarrassing, certainly -- but even this pales in comparison to what you’d had to endure before leaving the house.  

When your mother had asked you to come see her and casually inquired about the last time you’d shaved your legs.  When Jinjoo had made a point of letting you know that she was planning on staying all night long just as you were walking out the door.

That was definitely the most embarrassing part.

That’s why you feel a knot in your stomach as the security guard in Namjoon’s building escorts you personally up to the very top floor -- the one accessible only by keycard.  That’s why you find yourself holding your breath right until the very moment Namjoon opens the door.

Then you let go of that breath.

“Thank you, Jaejin,” he greets, bowing in the man’s direction.  He turns his attention to you and the knot in your stomach explodes into butterflies.

“Thanks for coming,” he says with a careful smile.  

As if you had any choice in the matter.  You kick your brain into gear and remind yourself to stop staring and smile back as the door shuts behind you.  

He takes your coat and you take him in.

It’s the most casual you’ve ever seen him look, barefoot in jeans and a button-down shirt rolled to the elbows.  He looks fresh from a shower, skin glistening and golden.  The scent of him --- clean and male and intoxicating -- wafts over you.

Followed by a far less enticing one.

“Namjoon,” your nose wrinkles at the acrid smell,  “Is something burning?”

“Something was burning,” he admits sheepishly. “But it’s not anymore.  And you -- “ he pauses to let his gaze rake over you, “ -- you look incredible.”

Heat creeps up your neck and into your face, making you feel just a touch too warm in your brand new sweater.  

“Thank you,” you reply, accepting his compliment with a shy smile. “So do you.”

He looks at you for a long moment, and you clear your throat, feeling uncomfortable with the admiration in his eyes.

“Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

“Yes, please,” you breathe the words through a nervous laugh. “That sounds great, actually.”  You hope it’s not obvious that you’re jumping at the chance to take the edge off of your jitters.

Namjoon leaves you standing in his grand living room as he heads to the kitchen to pour the wine.  You’ve always known he was a wealthy man -- but knowing that in the abstract and seeing it firsthand are two different things entirely.  You take in the massive wall-to-wall windows and gleaming marble floors and custom-made art pieces with silent awe.

Namjoon interrupts your gawking when he returns with your wine.

“So about dinner,” he starts with a chuckle. “It’s on the way.  I attempted to cook something, but as you already know that didn’t quite work out.  Not surprising, seeing as I’ve never cooked in this kitchen before.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise.  “Never?”

“Never,” he says with a smile.  “I’ve never brought anyone to this apartment, either.”

His smile vanishes then, a more serious look taking its place.  You swallow thickly as you let the implication of that statement wash over you.

“No one?”

“No one,” he confirms quietly.

Your lips part with surprise and Namjoon looks away, like he’s admitted too much -- and you stand there spinning your wheels, searching for something to say.

The sound of the door chime is a well-timed and welcome interruption.

Namjoon heads to the door to accept the food and you realize the same security guard who escorted you up here is making the delivery.  It makes sense, of course, that only a trusted few could get this close to Namjoon’s private space.

“Are you expecting more people?” you tease with a smile when the guard wheels in a cart weighted down with enough food to feed an army.  

Relief washes over you when Namjoon smiles back. The strange moment that passed between you before is forgotten.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got one of everything.”

Pleasant smells emanating from the carefully-packed containers fill the apartment, pushing away the burnt one still lingering from the food that’s been relegated to the trash.

“Just so you know,” you laugh, “I like all of it.”  

****************************

The centerpiece of Namjoon’s outrageously opulent great room is the fireplace.  

Your fingers wrap tight around the stem of your wine glass as you stare into the flames and contemplate how this night will end.

You know how you want it to end.  

You know the dozens of debauched fantasies you’ve entertained about Namjoon -- the myriad ways he’s had you in your mind.  But there’s no way for you to know what his intentions are, how he expects this night to end.

That’s why you’re strung tight as a bow as you hear him clearing plates and cleaning up in the kitchen.  The sounds eventually slow and then stop.  And you wait.

You don’t hear him approach.  

You come out of your thoughts and look away from the flames and he’s just there, standing in front of the couch wearing an expression you can’t read.  The wine starts to wobble inside your glass, set in motion by your unsteady hands.

“Here,” he says quietly, reaching for it. “Let me.”

He takes the glass and places it on the coffee table, sinking into the space next to you.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs.  “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

He leans in and reaches out to thread his hands into your hair.

“Namjoon,” you whisper weakly, pulse leaping in response.  

His eyes seem to darken at the sound of his name. His fingers slip out of your hair and under your jaw, tipping your chin up and compelling you to meet his gaze.  

“I told you I was going to do this the right way,” he murmurs, “And I meant it.  After that night in my office, I promised myself I was never going to put you in that position again.”

Your tongue slips out to wet your lips involuntarily, as if the action could take the place of the words you want so badly to say.  

But Namjoon makes no move, fingers firm under your jaw.

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxes gently. “If you want this -- if you want me, tell me.”

“Kiss me.”

The words come out in a rush, laced with such desperation they sound like a plea, not an order.  A smile tugs the corner of Namjoon’s mouth and he nods.

Carefully, deliberately, he sinks his mouth onto yours.

You sigh against the press of his lips as the pads of his fingers stroke the side of your face.  For a moment you can’t think; can’t process a thing beyond the spice on his tongue from the Buldak or how impossibly soft his lips feel against yours.  

He kisses you until you can’t breathe -- and just a moment beyond that -- until you are forced to pull away, chest heaving.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he admits, panting.

“I’ve been wanting you to do that since we were kids,” you confess, emboldened.

He leans close again, eyes half-lidded, lips grazing yours.

“Well, we’re not kids anymore.”

*********************

NAMJOON

Namjoon has to force himself not to totally fucking devour you.

You are finally in his hands and the urge to unleash months of wait and want on you is so strong he has to take a physical step back.

You look up at him from where you sit on his bed -- hair mussed from his fingers, lips swollen from his kisses -- and he hesitates, unsure of his next move.

“If you’re thinking you don’t want to -- “ you start.  

Namjoon cuts you off with a strangled laugh.

“Trust me, that’s not what I’m thinking,” he vows, shoving a hand through his hair.  “It’s like I’ve wanted you so bad for so long I don’t even know where to start.”

Your eyes soften as you gaze at him.

Namjoon holds his breath as he watches you slip out of your sweater and then out of your jeans.  You lie back against his sheets, eyes holding steady contact with his.

“Start anywhere,” you breathe quietly.  “Start everywhere.  Just start.  Please.”

Fuck, you are going to be his undoing.

It takes him an irritatingly long time to work the buttons of his shirt open on account of his thick, clumsy fingers.  He finally manages to get out of it and his jeans follow right behind.

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” you murmur as he slides into the bed next to you.  His fingers rake over the soft skin of your stomach and you jerk under his fingertips, body reacting immediately to his touch. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

Namjoon smiles when you use his own words against him.  

He dips his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply -- savoring the soft, sweet smell of your skin.  He mouths at your pulse point, feeling it race in response when his fingers trail lower to tease the delicate band of your panties.

“I figured out where I want to start,” he murmurs, sucking gently at the hollow of your collarbone.  

He feels your deep intake of breath when he slips one hand into the satin, grazing against your mound.  He shifts lower, allowing one finger to dip into your center, groaning at the wetness he finds waiting for him there.

“So responsive, Jagiya,” he praises softly.  “So beautiful.”

You make a needy sound, hips lifting off the bed as you chase the pressure of his fingers.  He turns to capture your lips again with his own, simultaneously working two fingers into the tight space between your thighs.

“Namjoon,” you sigh brokenly, “F-feels so good.”

“I can do better,” he promises.  “Turn over for me.”

He waits for you to comply, body shifting in the bed.  Once you are face down, he climbs over you, dipping his mouth to the shell of your ear, biting gently on the soft skin.  You shiver underneath him, moaning softly.

Slowly, he kisses a line down the back of your neck, hands stopping just long enough to undo the clasp to your bra.  He slips it off of you, reaching under you to tease at your nipples with his fingertips.  He chuckles low with satisfaction when you twitch under his fingertips.

He continues his descent, dropping kisses along the soft line of your back.  His hands reach your panties and he pulls them off, mouth sucking gently at the base of your spine.

“Namjoon,” you gasp, the sound of your plea is muffled as you press your face into the sheets. “Touch me.”

He sinks one long finger into you then, savoring the tight pull of your heat as his tongue flicks out to taste you.  Your hips jerk off the bed and he uses both strong hands to urge your legs further apart.

“Relax for me,” he soothes, mouth closing over your wet center.  

He pushes a second finger into you and you shudder at the fullness, back arching.  The movement angles your cunt even closer and Namjoon seizes the opportunity, tongue firm as he swipes it against you.

He can tell how badly you want this.  He can feel it in the way your thighs tremble while he’s working you with his fingers and tongue.  He can hear it in the way you whimper when he nips gently at you with his teeth.

“Namjoon,” the tilt to your voice makes it sound like you are on the verge of tears.  “Please -- I c-can’t -- ”  Your thought evaporates into thin air when he groans directly into your center, curling his fingers deep against the spot inside of you that draws a sharp gasp.

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs his encouragement as you buck against his grip.  “Come for me, Jagiya.”

He looks up just long enough to see your fingers twisted into the sheets, face buried deep into the pillow as you fall apart in his hands.  You make the prettiest sounds as you succumb.  Somewhere in the midst of your frantic whispering he hears his name and the sound goes straight to his cock, making the ache there almost impossible to ignore.  

He ignores it anyway -- pushing the feeling aside to ride out the tremors with you, relishing the taste of your release on his tongue.  He praises you, savors you, keeps you anchored to his mouth until your hips drop flush to the bed with exhaustion.

Then he kisses his way back up the line of your spine, dropping down at your side.  You look so deliciously sated and flushed when you turn over that Namjoon can’t help the slow smile that comes over him.

You kiss it right off.

You fit your body against his -- slick skin against slick skin -- and kiss Namjoon so hard it takes him by surprise.  Your hands dive into his hair, mouth desperate against his.

Namjoon chuckles under his breath at your newfound boldness, fingers reaching to tease at one pebbled nipple.  Your body jolts in response and you answer with a move of your own, one hand sliding across the hard plane of his stomach and into his boxers.  

Up until this very moment, he’s been able to ignore the insistent throbbing between his own legs.  But the moment your fingers wrap around him -- the moment you start to pump your hand gently over him -- it becomes his only thought.

“Shit,” he groans, breaking the kiss to inhale deeply,  “God, that feels good.”

You pull away to maneuver your body over his.  

Namjoon watches through hooded eyes as you pull his boxers down his legs and then turn your attention to his straining cock.  He takes his bottom lip between his teeth to contain the noise he makes when your mouth descends onto him.

The moments that follow are a test of the last shreds of Namjoon’s self-control.  

The wet warmth of your mouth surrounds him, tongue teasing at the sensitive places that make his hips jerk and his mouth drop open in surrender.  Your grip around his cock stays firm, mouth soft in contrast -- both sensations almost too much to bear at once.

He slips a hand in your hair to push back the strands that have fallen into your face and you release him with a pop, lips wet and swollen, eyes glassy and wide.  

He nearly comes right then and there.

“No more,” he croaks, voice hoarse with arousal.  “That’s all I can take.”

The smile you return is nothing short of victorious.  Namjoon rolls you onto your back in one fluid motion, more than ready to retake his position of control.   Your eyes are sparkling with laughter and he grins back.

“You like seeing me at your mercy, huh?” he teases, dropping kisses into the crook of your neck.  

“I do,” you admit, shuddering when he slips one hand back down to the apex of your thighs.  “It’s nice to be the one in charge for a change.”

Namjoon kisses you slowly then, taking himself in hand to slide the head of his stiff cock against the wetness spilling from your entrance.  He pulls up on his arms and looks down at you just to appreciate the way you look right now, hair splayed across his pillow and skin luminous against his sheets.  

“You’ve always been in charge, Jagiya,” he breathes, enjoying the way your cheeks pink in response.  “Just like you’re in charge right now. So tell me what you want.”

The humor disappears from your eyes then, replaced by something heady and dark.  

Namjoon sucks in a breath when your hand wraps back around his cock, guiding him back to your entrance.  He throbs with need under your fingertips, muscles locked tight with anticipation.

“This -- ” you murmur, tilting your hips up to take him in, “ -- is what I want.”  

Namjoon sinks down carefully then, slowly -- choking back a moan at the unbearably tight grip of your walls.  You gasp, nails digging into his back as he strokes to the hilt.  

“This is what you want?” he goads, feeling powerful now, drunk on the sight of you writhing beneath him. He pulls back and surges forward again, drawing a desperate moan from you.  “Like this?”

You wrap your legs around him, hands sliding down the slick skin of his back until your fingers are gripping his ass, urging him to move faster.

“Yes,” you manage on a shaky breath.  “Like that.  Over and over and over.”

Namjoon buries his smile against your breasts, tonguing at your nipples as his hips piston against you.  He nips at one with his teeth and you whine, back arching off the bed.  

“You’re made for me,” he groans, panting his praise in between deep strokes, “So tight and wet I can’t think.”

You hum your contentment into his mouth when you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close for a kiss.  He slips one hand under your ass, dragging you deeper into his heavy strokes and you cry out.  

He’s always hated the echo in this place.  But hearing the sound of your voice calling his name echoing off the walls is an entirely different story.  It lights a fire inside of him -- making him move faster, harder -- desperate to hear it again.

“Namjoon -- “ your hands claw at his back as you cling to him.  “ -- I think, I think I’m going -- “

“You will,” he rasps, when you lose all hope of finishing that thought.

He sinks his thumb into his mouth before dragging it down to rub slow circles across your aching clit and you clamp down around him in response.  He chokes on his own moan, summoning just enough control to keep himself from exploding inside of you.

But then you start to unravel.

In those final moments, you feel hotter and wetter -- begging brokenly in his ear for some kind of relief.  Namjoon holds off until the tight grip of your cunt starts to pulse around him and then he gives in.  He comes so hard his vision darkens before it comes back.  

Then he collapses on top of you, panting and wrecked.

You press a kiss into his neck and rake your nails gently up and down his back.

**********************

Namjoon wakes up alone.

He should be used to the feeling by now, but after last night -- after you -- he can’t help but feel disappointed.  

He shoves a hand through his hair, slips into a pair of lounge pants and heads to the kitchen in search of coffee.

Then he stops in his tracks.

You are standing in front of the massive window in his living room, wearing nothing but one of his old t-shirts, holding a mug of coffee in one hand.  You sip it thoughtfully and look out over the city, seemingly unaware of his presence.

So Namjoon just stands there for a while, admiring your long legs and soft skin and the dark hair that spills down your back.  Admiring the way you make this place bearable just by existing in it.

“Thought you left me,” he says quietly, and you startle out of your reverie at the sound of his voice.

“I did leave you,” you feign a serious expression, nodding at your mug. “For this. Thought you’d understand.”

“That I do,” he laughs, padding across the room to join you at the window.  

He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and you smile up at him.

“What are you thinking about this morning?” Namjoon presses quietly. “What’s on your mind?”

You sip your coffee and look back out the window before answering.

“I was just thinking about the day I came to ask for you a job,” you confess.  “How afraid and alone I felt back then.”

Namjoon can still remember how he felt seeing you walk into his office after all those years.   It certainly wasn’t afraid or alone and his chest squeezes at your admission.

“And now?”

“Now I feel …” you trail off as you turn back to look up at him.  “... like everything’s going to be okay.”

He stares back at you, suddenly overwhelmed by how good this feels.  

By how good it feels to be needed by you.  

By how you in his shirt, in his apartment, in his life, makes total sense.  

By how it feels like you belong here.

With him.

“You’re right, Jagiya.  Everything is going to be okay,” Namjoon vows, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss into your hair.   “Because I’m going to make sure of it.”

**************************

GLOSSARY:

Gajog: Family

Eomma: Mother

Ttal: Daughter

Amsaja: Lioness

Jaegyueo: Jaguar

TAG LIST:

@prettyguardiansailormin​​​ @barbikatherine​ @55west81st​ @laabellaavitaa21​ @codeinebelle​ @jalexad​ @trynavibewhileicry​ @poohsaidhi​​ @eltrain80​​ @bluewhale52​​ @sahmfanficbts​​ @midnighttifa​​ @krystle1990​​ @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag​​ @hauntedlilies​​ @kjooniesbabygirl​​ @unicorn5090​​ @parkjimin-persona​​ @kosicastairs​​ @julia-pacheco-blog​​ @veryuniquenamegoeshere​​ @katbonv​​ @sunkissed725​​ @yourdaydreamerfan​​

[nightswithkookmin]

Jimin is a pretty bOY

This is a continuation of our discussion on my last post. Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me, I think I agree with all of it.

Not sure how I feel about the calling eachother out bit or near scolding of others in the comments. Please let's be welcoming and respectful of others's thoughts regardless of whether or not we agree with it. It's ok to hold diverse views. We do after all come from different backgrounds and have accumulated different experiences and I think it plays out in how we see things. Everyone's opinion is valid. Plus, I purple yall.

Now, do I think he is trying to pack on muscles........? Yes. He said so himself in Festa when he said he would rush to the mirror when he thought he had gained some muscle only to find out his biceps looks like a muscled kindergartner.

He also said lately he's into exercising and staying in shape which is true because for quite sometime now since early this year he has been talking about how "weak" he is in their Vlives and have even given instances of him not being able to do certain things- certian simple and easy tasks- which is typical of him I'd say. He's always talking about how "weak" he is especially around JK and juxtaposing that with "but JK is so strong" which I'm sorry but I have to smirk at right now cos it's such a typical gay pick me simp thing to do. We've all been there.

Do I think he's trying to be a muscle bunny or revert back to his body shape around debut? Absolutely not. But I do think he is straddling the line of toxic masculinity which is what the conversation is about.

I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to stay in shape or even enjoying work outs. Last night I ran downstairs because I had left my stew on the stove and now this morning I called renew my gym membership because I discovered running can be actually fun to do... No. No it's not. The gym instructor would have to come for me kicking and screaming.

RM have said even though JM looks skinny and fragile he is one of the strongest within the group. Besides, this is not the first time he's expressed interest in working out and building his body- hello, on Era?

I remember people complaining he looked too buffed up in that period on SNS and PJMs quickly jumping in to clear the searches for it. The choreo for On required agility and endurance and required the members- not just JM build up some definition in their muscles.

We've seen them go through all that. So it's not simply a matter of black and white staying in shape or doing it because he feels pressured to do so. Especially, when you consider that he's undertaken some pretty unhealthy measures in the past in attempts to lose weight or soften out his body post these muscle building, weight gaining periods and we've always chalked it up to his dance and how as a contemporary dancer he has to look a certain way or this or that to try to justify and make sense of it. Next you, know there are six chapters of break the silence of him talking about all the dark places he's been, the pressures to look his best for his fans or for his job and all these other painful stories he's shared with us over the years. And it's like, but why? Why do this to yourself?

I'll never forget the look he gave JK when JK was talking about wanting to build muscles in one of the interviews for the promotion of Be- I think I made a post on it. When JK noticed JMs disapproving glare he backtracked saying he would want to stay skinny after gaining all that muscles.

I mean if I'm to be honest, he was bound to crack at one point. The signs were there being surrounded by all these men who adhere to the traditional aesthetics of a masculine body- from Namjoon to Taehyung.

I wish y'all will steer the conversation in this direction and make it more about gender norms and expressions and breaking stereotypes and diversity in the body aesthetics of men.

Jimin is a man too. He just isn't what people traditionally will label masculine. Androgynous is more an apt word in my opinion. How many times have I said, I think Jungkook hetero passes because his body aesthetics is quintessentially what most associates with a masculine man?

Breaking gender barriers is not just about embracing feminine apparels- that teeters on cross dressing quite frankly and can be a bit performative and baity. Then you have to consider their culture in itself has an inherent pro gender diversity feel to it.

Now, let me explain my problem with the Klout ad campaign a little bit.

Do you see how Tae stands out? And I'm not saying this to fuel the "Tae was their fav" debacle. It's the 007 feel... I'll explain in a bit.

Most often, alcohol advertisers as well as most advertisements intended to sell to men often try to appeal to men's internalized ideals of masculinity or try to shape and define what a man or masculinity should look like. These ideals are so often toxic and detrimental to men and mostly women too.

Take a look at these ads for example. All I had to do was google search ads for men.

Real men drink milk and look at the image they present as real men. This blatantly implies if you don't look like this, if you are not a strong cliff climbing man with abs you are not a real man.

The second image is subtle. I call it the 007 slash Kingsmen-esque ideals of masculinity. It portrays men as sexy cool badass- works out but isn't too buff, filthy rich or middle class, wears Rolex, designer clothes, is kind but has a mean exterior and is every 13 year old wattpad girls's dream of a man. In fiction, you see this kind of masculinity in characters such as Edward cullens to Christian Grey. And a lot of ads for men alternate between these two ideals of masculinity.

Do you see how they modeled Taehyung in these ads after this kind of masctheme? Tae looks the same in almost all the ads. 007 sexy cool badass.

Now, I may not be a makeup beauty guru or MUA or whatever, but one thing I've picked up on especially when it comes to makeup for men- BTS and Kpop idols mostly is that, they soften out the harsh features on their faces and make them appear more androgynous or effeminate to suit the Kpop look and they ditch it entirely in different settings.

So for instance, Tae and Kookie's natural hawkish eyebrows tend to get softened around the arch and edges- don't know how the fuck they do that- but it appears less in your face intense most times when they wear make up in kpop related contents.

However, in certain other contents that lean towards a certain gender theme those features are emphasized. Not to say hawkish features are masculine features. Just saying in men, Kpop idols, my observation is they soften those features out with makeup or surgery.

Now, take a look at JM in these ads and look at everything from his posture, make up, hairstyle and brows. It's as if someone took an eraser to his androgynousity and erased his feminine side. Take a look at his photo above and compare it to the ads.

I am not a man. But I feel the gender look they went for, intended to appeal to men, tapped into a rather outdated stereotype of what man and masculinity should look like.

What is a man?

What should a man look like?

What aesthetics of masculinity is Jimin gravitating towards now? And I'm not talking clothes, I'm talking the expression of his gender. Time and again, he's talked about how looking a certain way made him uncomfortable in the past because he was constantly fighting his feminine side. He is androgynous. Sometimes he leans more into his feminine side. Other times he leans more into his masculine side but this is the only time he's leaning into his masculinity that makes me uncomfortable to watch because like I said it bothers on toxic masculinity.

He's said whoever he was, the version fighting to look masculine, that wasn't him. So forgive me if I worry whenever i see him suppressing his feminine side and acting like 'one of the boys.' Him staying in shape is not synonymous with him erasing a valid part of himself or suppressing it. He can stay in shape, celebrate his masculinity and still be FILTER.

What I'm saying is, this not a conversation about him exercising. This is a conversation about an ad erasing his feminine side and boxing him into a narrow expression of his gender and how that might be affecting his view of himself especially in the way he's been gravitating towards a certain masculine aesthetics and how that could be toxic.

Tae has said the same thing and BTS have agreed the JM as of 2019 was the real JM according to them.They said he was that way- suppressing his feminine side, because there weren't much songs and choreos that suited him and so he had had to bend himself to fit with the others.

And so when I see him leaning a certain way I tend to wonder if his exterior environment is playing a role in that. I hope you can understand that.

He is a contemporary dancer and strength and flexibility are prerequisites for his craft. The company go out of their way to incorporate contemporary dance in their choreos for JM's sake which helps solve that problem of him trying too hard to look a certain way.

May be I'm projecting. May be my little brother is effeminate and I've always recommended Jimin as a role for him to tell him not to try to look different just because other boys look different. May be I've seen him try one too many times to kill himself in the gym trying to build on muscles and getting frustrated with himself because he ends up looking like someone else. You can't gym the queerness away. Society will never let you be who you want to be so you might as well flip it the middle finger.

These boys are being shaped by their environment. I hate to say this but the environment they are in isn't exactly progressive and the longer they stay in there cut off from the outside world...

Flying out helps. Meeting different people and being exposed to different cultures and conversations on gender expression helps.

Anywho, these are just concerns I have. Will have them till I see that's not where he is headed towards. But let's not act like these ad campaigns do not and can not psychologically impact these boys especially as these advertisers are not looking to tap into their own definition of gender and masculinity but shape it and redefine it to appeal to the demographic they intend to market to.

I think this is just a grey area for me. Rather than try to change JM to look a certain way in order to sell alcohol. I think the ground breaking thing would be to have a man who looks like JM show us how someone like him would sell a can of drink. I think that would be revolutionary.

Signed,

GOLDY

[danielxricciardo]

maybe one with haaland where he is a controlling boyfriend but you don‘t have the courage to tell him but one of his friends notice it and talks to him about it

Summary: You and Erling are in a toxic relationship.

Warnings: angst

Word count: 1.6k

Nearly all people want control over their environment. It's human nature. We're notoriously unable to let go and allow a situation to just be. We always feel like we have to do something to make things go our way.

The big difference between someone who is merely being human and someone who is controlling is that the latter results in emotional and physical abuse. A person who just wants control over themselves and their environment is pretty normal. However, a person who wants to constantly control what others say and do has issues.

He's very insecure and paranoid.

He uses ultimatums and other threatening tactics to manipulate you.

He uses guilt to control you.

He makes you feel less than you are.

He acts as you owe him for everything.

He isolates you from others.

He thinks he's always right.

You're hiding innocent things from him.

He's very insecure and paranoid.

Erling hated when he had to go away on a game or when he was away with the national team because you were no longer with him and he could not see what was happening at home.

How many times have you told your 2-year-old boyfriend that he can trust you, that you just go to work and go home, he still doesn't trust you. He calls you two or three times an hour, and when it was a match he calls you before it starts, during the break, and after the match.

At first, you didn't think it was a problem, you really thought it was nice, you thought he was thinking of you and wanted to see what you were doing. But you noticed that he was paranoid about your every move. If you went to the store and stayed longer, he would ask you who you met. If you were talking on the phone with someone other than your parents, he wanted to know exactly who you were on the phone with and what you were talking about.

2.He uses ultimatums and other threatening tactics to manipulate you.

Not only once it happened that after a nice get-together in the city with his teammates to come home and he'll tell you that if you behave so nicely and flirtatiously with a teammate of his once again he will break up with you in order of you to go to that teammate.

You weren't doing anything wrong, you were just trying to be friendly with his friends. You never flirted with a teammate of his, and you never intended to do that.

You tried to explain to him that you were not doing anything wrong but he didn't seem to care too much about what you were saying so you just lowered your head and listened to him.

3.He uses guilt to control you.

Erling didn't cook. He always reminded you of the moment when he wanted to cook you a romantic dinner and he burned his hand.

Erling never washes the clothes. He always reminded you of the moment when he colored all his white T-shirts in pink.

Erling never gave you presents. He always reminded you of the moment when he bought you a perfume that you couldn't wear because you were allergic to some of the components.

Erling never organizes surprises. He always reminds you of the moment when he organized a surprise party for your birthday and he accidentally invited your ex-best friend as well.

He always points out his own efforts and hard work to make you feel as if you've fallen short. Who were you to compare to Erling Haaland anyway?

4.He makes you feel less than you are.

You were just a lawyer. He was one of the greatest football player. He always reminded you of that.

You had a few hundred euros set aside. He had millions. He always reminded you of that.

You could afford a 3-day vacation in the mountains 100 kilometers from your home. He could afford himself a 3-month vacation all over the world. He always reminded you of that.

You could afford to order food from the neighborhood restaurant. He could afford to eat 5 times a day from the best restaurants in town. He always reminded you of that.

5.He acts as you owe him for everything.

He always reminded you that he bought you half of the clothes you own.

He always reminded you that the apartment you live in is his.

He always reminded you that the car you drive is bought with his money.

He always reminded you that the holidays you have been in so far have been paid in full by him.

He always reminded you that you would be nothing without him.

6.He isolates you from others.

Even if you were staying 20 minutes away from your parents' apartment, you haven't seen them for more than 4 months. You haven't even been out with your friends lately you were just talking on the phone in the last few months.

You could go out to a restaurant with your friends and have a coffee and talk about your life, but that would mean Erling would have to come with you, and he doesn't want to because he feels like all your friends are stupid.

7.He thinks he's always right.

Nothing you said was ever correct, and he applied critical thinking to prove you wrong. He always told you that you were not right and that it would be better for you not to express your opinion in public because you would make a fool of yourself. So when someone asks you what you think about something, you would just simply shut up.

8.You're hiding innocent things from him.

Many times when he was gone you would order different clothes online that you'd eventually hid from him. You didn't know if you would ever be able to wear them, but you liked them so much when you saw them that you couldn't help but buy them.

You tried them when they arrived and then you hid them behind the closet, knowing that he would never look there because only you cleaned the apartment.

You knew it wasn't a healthy relationship. It was written TOXIC in capital letters all over your relationship. But you didn't want to give it up. You knew he had no luck in past relationships and that's why he behaves like this now and you were sure he would get over this phase.

You were both at Thomas Delaney's birthday at a restaurant. Although everyone was having fun, you sat and watched everyone, taking care not to stop looking at one person for too long, not to smile for too long, or to laugh too loudly at someone's joke.

Your strange behavior caught Marco Reus's attention. You used to laugh, make jokes, but not now. You seemed forced to be there.

"Y/N, are you okay?" he asks you and all eyes were now on you.

You bite your lip and look at everyone scared. You wanted to cry.

"Yes, she's fine." Erling answers in your place then takes a sip of beer.

Marco frowns and looks between the two of you.

"Okay, but I asked her, you know."

"You are fine, don't you, darling?" he says and slips his arm behind your back.

He shuddered at his touch and this is not overlooked by those at the table.

"Yes ..." you say shyly. "I'm fine."

"No, you are not." says the captain of the Borussia Dortmund team and beckons his wife, Scarlett, to go to you.

Scarlett gets up from the table and comes to pick you up and take you to the bathroom to talk. Michelle Delaney joined you.

Erling looks after you as you are dragged by the two women to the bathroom.

"Why do all three of them need to go to the bathroom? Y/N didn't need to go to the bathroom."

"And how do you know she didn't need to? She didn't say a word all night long." Marco answers. "What's wrong with you?"

Erling frowned, not understanding the question.

"I'm fine, what are you talking about?"

"Are you? Haven't you noticed that you've become a manipulative dick? She's terrified of you. She's so afraid to breathe around you."

Erling snorts and finishes his beer from the glass.

"She's fine. You don't have to worry about her. How long does it take to come from the bathroom?" he says, turning in his chair, looking at the bathroom.

All the men at the table look at each other in silence.

"Break up with her," says Thomas Delaney.

"And why, in the world, would I do that?" he asks, clenching his fists.

"Because she feels miserable and it's clear you don't love her anymore. Your relationship is toxic and there's no point in continuing it."

"I respectfully tell you that you have no idea what you're talking about. She doesn't feel miserable."

"I do feel miserable," you say from behind him.

Erling gets up from his chair and looks at you.

"What?" he says softly as if all the air had come out of him.

You bite your lip and look at him. You had red eyes from crying.

"I've been terrified of making a wrong step around you for almost half a year. I'm afraid you'll yell at me, scold me... Sometimes I'm afraid you'll hit me."

Erling frowns and looks at you intently.

"But I... I didn't mean to hurt you. Never. I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't realize I hurt you. You should have told me earlier..."

Erling takes you in his arms and you feel the warmth and love with which he embraces you. For the first time in so many months, you felt the love of your lover.