#he didn't deserve it but most of the other demons probably didn't either

[flameraven]

Yes. I feel like this headcanon mostly serves to make Crowley Secret Angel Royalty as a way to have him be Extra Super Special and Powerful and/or give him an extra angsty backstory. And y'know. Have fun with that if you want but I do think it ignores that one of the core themes of the story is that a bunch of unimportant nobodies manage to save the world because they tried, even when it seemed pointless. And of course, another major theme is that you choose your OWN destiny. You don't have to be who you are supposed to be. So why would he have some important Destiny?

As far as canon goes, I do think the line in S2 "for one Prince of Heaven to Fall makes a good story, two makes it seem like an institutional problem" pretty strongly implies Lucifer is the only Archangel that Fell, since the implied second would be Gabriel. I really think that Raphael in GO is just Sir Not Appearing In This Story and there's no big mystery to him not being one of the featured Archangels. Also... Raphael's whole deal is healing. I never did understand why people picked Raphael as Crowley's angel identity when angel!Crowley's seems to be in an entirely different department (starmaking).

Crowley's Rank

This one's gonna be controversial, isn't it. Actually, let me pre-empt my rant with (another rant): It's not that I mind if Crowley was an Archangel or Dominion or whatever before he Fell. I don't think it makes that much difference. It could perhaps serve some narrative purpose but I don't really see it. To me, it makes no real sense for the story though and I do see people using this idea so Crowley can be smarter, more powerful, more insightful, more aware and just you know, full of wisdom and knowledge that Aziraphale should have sat down and learned from a long time ago. This is my main gripe with this HC.

So. Here we go: I am baffled by how people assume and often even claim it is as good as canon that Crowley:

was an Archangel

or even more high up (which I don't think is possible in GO Universe)

knew all Heaven's dirty secrets (and that's why he knows SO MUCH more about Heaven than poor innocent Aziraphale*)

created the Universe

*who a) should have listened to Crowley when Crowley tried to tell him about it or b) Crowley didn't tell him about it because he didn't want to hurt poor Aziraphale with the truth about Heaven

When what we see in canon is (IMO) the opposite of all of that? Also, did Aziraphale somehow forgot that Crowley was high up?

We meet this adorable angel in Before the Beginning. He was sent to start up a Nebula in a remote corner of the Universe and he needs a helping hand.

The angel who meets him finds him adorable and enquires whether he designed the pretty *waves hands around* colours and stuff. And Angel!Crowley admits that...well he did not design it as such but... he did have an input! Angel!Crowley does not introduce himself which is definitely a deliberate move, however, it seems like he's simply too distracted and excited by his project for such proper niceties so he does not notice when his new friend looks a little put out by that.

So. Did Aziraphale know who Crowley was?* I like both yes and no answers. I think a crush at first sight is adorable; after all, Aziraphale's careful demeanour seems to suggest he does not meet carefree happy angels often. But perhaps he did come across him before and was hoping to make his acquaintance properly sometime and look, what luck he was nearby just now...

*Did Aziraphale know who Crowley was in Eden? Absolutely. They recognised each other (and I wonder what happened in the interim we did not see) and Aziraphale carefully waits for the demon to offer his new name.

Did Crowley create the Universe?

No, he started up a nebula, and he's clearly very excited about his job.

Angel!Crowley has not heard of the Earth, the humans, or what the whole project/universe is for or how long it is planned to last.

That tells me, given that Earth and humans and the 6000 year Plan is literally the goal of it all; that he did not sit high up on the Universe planning committee and if anyone told him about it before, he did not pay attention. Which, honestly, is on brand for ADHD Crowley.

How come Aziraphale knows that certain suggestions and ideas would be unwelcome, should the two of them be overheard?

We don't know. But clearly whatever circles Aziraphale moves in, have alerted him to the fact that suggesting to improve things, would be a bad idea. And he did pay attention to the whole - we are creating a vast Universe to host a tiny planet for a human project that will last 6000 years and then be destroyed.

He also breaks the news about the Plan to Crowley who is clearly heartbroken about it. Much like the angels designing dinosaurs must have been I expect, working on them just so their bones could be buried in the Earth for a joke.

Next up for the argument for powerful Crowley:

Our lovely husbands aim for a tiny miracle to hide the runaway Archangel and its power creates mayhem in Heaven (and I assume in Hell too).

So why did this happen? I've heard of three possible explanations:

The husbands made it powerful, because they are (or their love is) powerful together, they just did not realise it. And that's my favourite one.

Gabriel inadvertently helped cos he's the Supreme Archangel (unlikely since he can't deal with his angel self while he's a 'Jim' for the rest of the season).

Crowley is so powerful he did it himself. Even though he insisted on making it very small, (I guess he just could not help himself).

Now, when he quips, how do you know I didn't do it - to the suggestion only a powerful Archangel could do it... it's just that. A joke. And a way to confuse.

After all, the Archangels laugh at the mere suggestion Az could do it too, but then HE CLAIMS HE DID and they believe him. Kind of.

So I don't think miracles are as clear cut as all that.

And anyway, it's impossible Hell would have forgotten if Crowley has been an Archangel in Heaven and second of all, it was funny, and a typical Crowley retort. Obviously Hell suspected Gabriel did it (and so did Heaven).

Crowley himself seems to think it's THEIR COMBINED fault. (If that is not foreshadowing, especially the way he throws it out there....)

Crowley can stop time.

And that's pretty cool. Very impressive. I wonder who else can do that. But does he have this power/knowledge because of his past high rank or because he worked at building the Universe? (And clearly loved his job?)

And now for the main course:

And:

"They never change their passwords."

Ok so I mean... you don't exactly have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce triumphantly that Crowley was one of those.

Which, given Good Omens is anything but obvious and predictable, is exactly what Crowley is not (yes, that's my HC, obviously).

How did he get to know the passwords then? Oh so many delicious possibilities. And so much more interesting (I think) than - he was so high up he knows everything.

Did he get them cos he wanted to check something? Did he get them for Lucifer and/or 'the guys'? Did he get them for Aziraphale? Did he get them from Aziraphale? Did he find out by mistake cos the 'high ups' did not pay attention to a lowly angel around important documents? Did he simply believe he can open the files?

And one more little thing:

Apparently, God on angel time was very limited if they are both in awe of Job being able to speak to God.

I mean we have no idea if Metatron ever actually speaks to Her, or the Archangels, but this seems to imply these two were not especially important.

And. I like that.

I want them to be two middling nobodies who overthrow the system because they came to love one another. It's such a running theme in Terry Pratchett books too. It's not the ministers and generals who overthrow governments, is it. It's someone in the crowd asking questions, and another someone wanting a proper kiss and deciding they'd wage a war for it. That's how revolutions start.

If I sound in any way disparaging towards Crowley, please note - I am not. But I am disparaging to fanon Crowley who I believe Crowley would despise.

[chronicbeans]

Nurse's Office

Needed to write a platonic Alastor x Nurse Reader Angst fic after I saw that fight between him and Adam like holy hell.

TW: Injuries and Blood, Medical Tools/Procedures, Anxiety/Slight Panic, Spiraling Mental Health

So... When you got started at the Hazbin Hotel, you didn't expect to be a nurse there. Sure, you have the skills, but you usually don't have a nurse working a hotel. Now, though, you completely understand why they'd want to hire you for that, and not the room service position you applied for. Over the little time you've been here, you've seen more injuries that you could've ever imagined at a single hotel, with so few guests.

After the fight with the angels, though? You have been working on overdrive. You've had to patch everyone up, and you can't even find Alastor. You keep doing a head count after every person you treat, seeing if you can find him, but he doesn't show up. Your anxiety only gets worse once you check on Vaggie, the last person you had to help, and he still didn't make an appearance.

You don't want to assume the worst, though, so you grab some medical supplies, put them into a bag, then head out into the debris. He has to be somewhere. Even if he's not alive, he still deserves to be found. He also couldn't have gotten far! Yeah, he kind of... disappeared at one point...? You didn't get a good look, but he did disappear from your sight. But you don't suspect he'd have went far from the hotel while injured. Just far enough to be safe. That's what you hope, at least...

You continue wandering around for a few hours, your legs feeling exhausted after a while. Climbing over all the rubble, breathing in some of the settling dust, and straining your eyes to see up ahead is tiring... that, and you keep scraping your hands and knees on the sharp rocks and broken concrete. The most disheartening part, though, is that you still haven't seen him... Then, you spot it.

A tiny little splatter of blood.

Then, another splatter nearby...

And another...

Yes, a trail! You don't know who it's going to lead to, but you can see some lights in the distance. It at least leads somewhere. You quickly begin to follow it, seeing the red light get brighter and brighter. The radio tower comes into view. You know that it has to be Alastor, at this point. Why hadn't you thought of it sooner? You climb down the rubble, beginning to make your way over to the ruined tower ahead of you.

As you get close to the bottom hatch, you hear some footsteps against the floor. Immediately, you knock on the hatch, making your presence known. "Alastor! It's (Y/N)! I'm coming in there! If you're on the door, you better get off. Don't even try to stop me from getting in, either, because I'll climb through one of the windows if I have to." You pause, hearing the footsteps stop for a moment. After a few seconds, you crawl into the radio tower.

The place is a mess, to say the least... which, you expected. You stand up, then immediately scan the room for Alastor. It's a bit dark, and knowing him, he's probably going to try to hide, somehow. He hates being seen as weak, and from all the blood you've seen so far, he's gotten injured. Badly.

"Alastor? I know you're in here. I heard you walking." You walk around the room, checking every corner. Then, you notice an oddly moving shadow, alongside a puddle of blood. You walk over to it, frowning. "I know you're there. Come on. I'm here to help." You sigh as the shadow makes a little grunt noise, much like a deer would. You then cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at it. Looks like you'll have to appeal to his ego a little.

"How do you think people would feel if you, the great Radio Demon, died here alone in the shambles of his radio tower?" The shadow grows quiet as you say this, and before you know it, Alastor appears before you. He looks terrible, holding his stomach with one arm and the broken remains of his microphone in his other hand. You take a step towards him, but he backs away a bit.

"I'm fine, dear... It's nothing I can't handle. Just give me some time to regain my energy, then I-" You shake your head instantly, gesturing to his wound. "No, Alastor! Look at you. You almost died! Sure, maybe you can regenerate, I don't know... but I spent an hour or so looking for you, with the sole intention of helping you! I didn't come here for you to tell me "No, I don't need help, even though I'm severely wounded"! I came here to assist you."

You watch his eyes widen, his already strained grin becoming even more strained. His ears then pull back, the look in his eyes becoming more distressed. He mutters something, before nodding. Then, he leans against the wall, before slowly easing himself to the floor. "Fine, dear. If you truly came all this way, I guess it would be rude if I said no to your help." You are a bit shocked he gave up so easily, as well as how uneasy he looks. You decide to just help him, though.

You crouch next to him, taking out your medical tools from your bag. "You're definitely going to need stitches... my healing magic can only do so much, but it should work better if I close the wound first." You smile gently, before you point to him. "Though, I'm going to have to, at least, unbutton your shirt and coat to do so. Are you comfortable with that? I know you are very iffy about being touched..."

Alastor then begins to show more visible signs of discomfort, his eyebrows furrowing, and a slight static hum droning from somewhere nearby. You pick up on it, beginning to think aloud. "I can try to find some way to maneuver around the fabric, instead, since it was cut open-" "No. No. I trust you, dear." You blink a few times, wondering why he is acting so oddly. "Are you sure...?" "Yes, dear. I know you well enough to trust you." He then pauses, before quickly adding "You're a medical professional, after all. You've probably seen more than an upper torso, before. I trust you to not be a degenerate."

You simply chuckle, nodding. "You better! I'd say we're good friends, after all." You then quickly unbutton the clothing, before grabbing some sterile gloves and disinfectant. As you put the gloves on, you hear him mutter something, once again. Then, when you grab a set of tweezers and a cotton ball, he makes an odd comment. "We're great friends, yes...? If I told you a secret, you'd keep it, right?" You nod as you pick the cotton ball up with the needle, cover it in disinfectant, then begin to disinfectant the wound. "Yeah. You can tell me. It'll probably keep you distracted from any pain you feel, too."

Instead of a hiss of pain, the static noise grows loud for a moment. Then, it quiets down a bit as he talks. "I'm not entirely sure if you know this, already, but I made a deal... My soul is owned by someone else. I regret it more than anything..." You let out a little hum, your expression changing to one of shock. You grab the suture needle, as well as some thread. "Why are you telling me this?"

"(Y/N), my dear... I trust you more than many others. I've seen you working in that nurse's office of yours. You care more than the average sinner about others. Almost to a hilarious degree. I can imagine you patching up a soldier on one side of a battle and sending them out, then immediately do the same with someone from their enemy's side." He then laughs, before coughing a bit. "You care... but don't care when it comes to the right things to interest me. I trust you to not care about this, even if it means you'll keep secrets from me."

You nod, before gently smiling. "I'll keep it a secret... I know others could hold this against you and use it for an advantage. So, I won't say a word. Plus, you're right. I'm a bit of a chaotic middle ground. I don't like taking sides." You then get the needle into position, beginning to actually sew him up. "So, tell me... Is there anything else you're anxious about?"

His ears flick, the static growing once more. Then, it dies down again. "I don't want to be remembered as an altruist... I don't want to be seen as someone who had died for that hotel and his friends. I know that there's probably some people there who believe I died... and knowing Vox, he probably found some way to watch what happened. That man is practically obsessed with me, after all, dear!" He laughs, again, causing you to have to pause your suturing. After a few seconds, he begins coughing more. He sounds genuinely upset, despite his laughing.

"Why wouldn't you like that?" Alastor seems to disregard your question, instead beginning to talk about his deal once more. "There has to be an exit to that deal... a loophole. Something so I can get out of it..." You begin to continue, almost done with your work. "Are you sure...? What was it?" "I'm sure, and it's private matters."

You finish up, thing up the last suture's knot. Then, you take off your gloves, putting on a fresh pair, and grab the bandages. "... Alastor, are you alright...?" He looks to you, his eyes wide. "Why are you asking...? I am perfectly fine. Not a problem here. After I get free from my deal, I'll be-"

You narrow your eyes at him. "Alastor... you're frowning."

Alastor seems to grab at his cheeks for a moment, an odd, anxious grimace spreading across his face. Then, he begins forcing another grin. His tone is a lot more frantic, as if he has begun to spiral. Or, perhaps, just begun to outwardly express that he's spiraling. "I wasn't frowning. I am fine, dear." "You're not fine... but, if you say so, Alastor. I won't push the topic." You bandage his wound, before sighing. "Okay, so... This magic works oddly. You'll be-"

Before you can finish, he begins standing up. "Hey, wait-" He, holds a hand up, shushing you. Then, he points to himself. "I'll take care of the rest. You should handle your own wounds, dear. Don't think I haven't noticed your scrapes and cuts. You look like you've ran through a thornbush on your way over here." He begins buttoning up his shirt and coat, and you're shocked to see it repairing itself as he does so. Clearly, while your friend's power is limited, he's hiding more secrets than you expected...

"Fine... You better not leave me here by myself as I do so, though." You go from a crouching position, to a sitting one, as you clean off your tiny cuts. You hear him go quiet, for a moment, but can't see his expression due to your focus now being on yourself. After a few moments, though, you hear him chuckle.

For the first time, you hear his voice clearly, with no radio waves obscuring it. "Of course, dear. I never would dream of that. The others, though? Maybe..."

[oh-no-its-bird]

Thinking. In my version of the classic 'Senju bros all survived au', Kawarama is the eldest but Hashirama is still clan head.

How did that happen? Well !!

Pointing at this post I made ab my characterization for him.

Kawarama being really scary looking but actually the softest of the Senju brothers, and just overall not really built for the life of a shinobi. He's got an artists hands and a daydreamers mind, his position wears him down and his brothers all fear for him.

So like. Kawarama knowing he is not built for being Senju clan head, and willingly giving Hashirama the seat.

He supports Hashirama's dreams of a peaceful future, but knows he'd make a poor head to lead them towards it, and so he'll instead give the reigns to his little brother and do his best to help him lead them all there in his stead.

This actually caused a lot of controversy and speculation among other clans, seeing as the position as clan head is a very desirable one, and most people wouldn't be able to truly believe he'd just willingly give it up like that.

So they also probably had to pull a couple public stunts of Hashirama ordering Kawarama around, nothing big but just like, giving him orders and him instantly obeying. Just to really emphasize that yes, this is real. The eldest Senju gave his younger brother the seat and is treating him with the full respect his title deserves despite their ages.

Uhh Uchiha propoganda on "reason number 2034 why we can't trust Hashirama's offer for peace: he totally stole his (super strong and scary!!) older brothers seat and is probably blackmailing him somehow"

Anyways this also earns Kawarama his own fancy nickname of the "Senju Hound" which is for sure half an insult implying he's nothing but Hashirama's mindless attack dog

On the topic of that !! Take a snippet from my "Kawarama and Izuna get trapped in a cave together" wip:

"The 'God of Shinobi,' the 'White Demon,' the 'Senju Hound'— You Senju are so pretentious." Izuna scowled. "Itama is very sad he doesn't also have a 'cool nickname'." Was all Kawarama said, something close to a smile tugging on his lips. "The sickly son?" Izuna sniffed, reaching to be purposefully offensive. "Maybe if he got up off his ass and did something, he'd get one." The insult either didn't seem to land, or the Senju was more of a cold fuck than Izuna had thought. The small, quiet smile on his face didn't dissapear at all. If anything, it grew even more amused. Ugh. Such a soft expression didn't suit such a sharp, unfriendly face. Izuna hated it.

Anyways yeah, Kawarama !! Love that guy. Having many thoughts ab him. I went through my Itama phase (arguably I never left it I just post slightly less ab him) I deserve to have a Kawarama phase

[t-lostinworlds]

Warm Winter & Fiery Frost [1] | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x ex-HYDRA assassin!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x grumpy, enemies to lovers-ish, slow burn-ish, angst, fluff-ish

》 SUMMARY: They say opposites attract. You and Bucky were so alike—He was called The Winter Soldier and you were called Frost, for fucks sake—that it's probably the reason why you hated each other. Or was it the denying of powerful feelings in fear of getting hurt? You know, like how the cliché goes. Because you know what they also say: There's a fine line between love and hate.

》 WARNINGS: read full warnings here

》 WORD COUNT: 12.6k+

A/N: so, i decided to divide the fic into two just to give you guys the option to read it here as well since i feel like a lot of ppl are more comfortable with just reading it on tumblr sksksks but you also still do have the option to read it on AO3 if you want. will be posting part 2 tomorrow around the same time. it will be linked at the end. i hope you enjoy!

📘 READ ON AO3 | ★ FIC MASTERPOST

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Some said first impressions have a lasting impact, that it might even be a crucial pillar of any relationship. Others would vouch that it could be a bit misleading, that everybody deserves a second chance, that getting to know someone on a deeper level was far more important. After all, people were good at pretending, wearing masks for different occasions, putting on a façade depending on who they were standing in front of.

Bucky's first impression of you was that you were downright rude.

You definitely were not the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, a confident aura surrounding your graceful form as you entered the conference room. You definitely didn't capture his attention easily, didn't make his heart skip a couple of beats when he briefly caught your piercing gaze, eyes a beautiful shade that he wanted to look closer to see if there were any variations or they were as perfect and pure in color at first glance. You didn't make his breath nervously hitch when your head tilted ever so slightly, almost scrutinizingly as you studied him with your pretty lips pursed.

He definitely didn't linger there for a second or two, either.

Nope.

All he could think about was how cold and arrogant you seemed to be, head held high as Steve introduced you to the team one by one, settling for formal handshakes and a barely-there smile.

Bucky definitely was not thinking about how you were able to keep your features impassive yet stay so gorgeous in his eyes. He definitely wasn't intrigued about the slight gray of cautiousness tinting your irises, definitely not curious to know more of your quiet and reserved nature. He wasn'tat all itching to peel back your layers with such tenderness and care, to know more about you—light, darkness and demons alike.

Who knew lying to yourself could be so easy?

"And this is Bucky Barnes," Steve said, patting his shoulder, smiling excitedly for some reason he knew nothing of. "You know, the one I kept telling you about."

Bucky glared at his best friend curiously before turning to you, keeping a straight face as he held his hand out.

"I read your file."

That was Bucky's first words to you.

A second after they left his mouth, his stomach churned as he watched your face harden, lips pressed tightly into a thin line. You glanced at his outstretched hand, pointedly ignoring it as you crossed your arms over your chest. Chin up, you looked at him dead straight in the eyes, a certain fire flickering over yours, a brow raised in challenge.

You didn't say a word.

Bucky only got a curt nod before you turned back to Steve.

"My room?" you asked the blonde, features softening.

"Come on," Natasha interjected, nodding towards the door.

Bucky felt a sudden surge of jealousy at the cordial way you regarded the two. He felt envious when you returned Nat's grin with a small smile of your own as you followed her lead. It was faint enough to not be noticeable if you weren't particularly observant but definitely better than the scowl you wore when looking at him.

He ignored the way the redhead shot him a look over her shoulder as she guided you out of the conference room.

It was safe to say that as far as first impressions went, both of yours definitely weren't the best.

"What?" Bucky sighed when he caught the way his best friend was looking at him.

"Really?" Steve scolded, hands on his hips. "'I read your file' is not a conversation starter, Buck."

Fine. Maybe that wasn't the best—nor appropriate—thing to say to you first. But it was exactly because of that file that he was wary of you.

You were a spy, an assassin, trained in the Red Room only to get traded to HYDRA after some negotiations. They probably saw your potential—took you under their wing before you could even graduate so you didn't class as one of the Black Widows. Still, that didn't mean you didn't have the abilities of one, especially when you started young like most did. Now, adding the brutality and mercilessness HYDRA taught their killing machines?

You were one deadly mix.

The file said you were enhanced in some way. It didn't have the specifics as to what but it did state what wasn't. No superpowers, nothing magic-related, not even a case of superhuman abilities. But since these were organizations known for their hunger to experiment and enhance individuals, he had an inkling that you weren't just human, either.

Bucky didn't understand what level of consciousness you were in when you were doing their bidding. All he knew was that newer technology was involved, something to do with a microchip embedded on the back of your neck, connected right into your brain stem that any attempt at removing it carelessly would lead to your death.

He didn't know the extent of what that chip could do, didn't know if it was roughly the same as his programming where his mind was wiped and then controlled. It was possibly different yet similar—two sides of the same coin.

That part of the file was redacted, and Steve was adamant about staying quiet with that side of your story when asked. It was understandable, he supposed. It was nobody's place to tell but yours.

But judging from those alone, Bucky could guess it wasn't a lovely walk through the fields.

You were free from that now—thanks to Shuri, of course—but you could never be too cautious.

Just because Natasha saw you as a long lost sister, or how Steve was quick to trust you enough to escort you to Wakanda himself, and for both to vouch for you to join the team, didn't mean Bucky had to follow in their footsteps of plain blind faith.

It definitely had nothing to do with how nervous he suddenly got when you were standing right in front of him, or the way his heart picked up the pace when you were in the vicinity, let alone, glanced his way.

But with all the lies he'd been keen on feeding himself, Bucky had to admit, you were mesmerizingly and gorgeously terrifying.

There was just something about the way you carry yourself that even as simple as you walking down the hallway had everyone parting out of your way like the Red Sea.

Your reputation preceded you—Frost, a name most people feared to cross, belonging to a list of the most feared assassins who were still alive, of those who roamed free.

Whether that was second, equal, or better than The Winter Soldier…well, it depended on who you asked.

It somehow conjured this unspoken competition throughout the entire facility.

Who was more menacing?

Who was more skilled in hand-to-hand combat?

Who had the best death glare?

Who wielded the knife better?

Who had the better murder strut?

Who was the better assassin?

Who would win in a staring contest?

Who was grumpier, colder, the deadlier killer—The Winter or Frost?

Even the core Avengers team was silently in on it. The bets were mundane but they were there. An extra pizza slice, a dollar or two, who gets to go on the next coffee run, who gets to do whose laundry—they were thoroughly entertained by it.

Even Sam commented how you made Bucky's glare look like puppy eyes.

He honestly felt a little offended.

Probably because the truth sucked since, hell, even Bucky felt intimidated by you—in more ways than one.

Nobody intimidated him, not until you.

Bucky hated it.

If you asked his ego and pride, they'd tell you it was because the comparisons were insulting. He was the best in his field, he had decades of experience under his belt—he was a goddamn super soldier for crying out loud. A newbie, someone who didn't even reach half of what he'd been through, wasn't going to be better than him, even with similar skill sets.

But deep down, he knew it was something else entirely.

If he were to truthfully answer those questions that circled the compound, he would be biased, subjective, completely and utterly infatuated because his answer was you.

In Bucky's rose-tinted eyes, you win anything because he would wholeheartedly give you everything.

That was another thing he was entirely terrified and intimidated by.

Never had he ever felt this strong pull before, an intrigue and need to be closer to someone, let alone someone he just met. It was new territory, something unfamiliar, especially in the last couple of decades.

Bucky hated not being able to understand what he was feeling, hated not being in control of the way his thoughts sprinted in all directions, fast and unrelenting to match the beating of his heart. He hated the way you made him feel a plethora of overwhelming yet warm emotions all from a simple look, a complicated concoction of admiration, fear, infatuation, lust and everything in between.

He hated the way you threw his whole world off its axis when he'd been doing good so far at gradually understanding his mind, his heart, his whole self.

Now, he was confused, terrified, captivated by you in so little time and he hated it.

And like Pavlov's dog and the Theory of Classical Conditioning—

Bucky hated you.

•••

As it turned out, you hated him too.

You weren't verbal about it for the first few months you lived in the compound. But then again, you had been keeping to yourself most of the time.

People barely saw you roaming around. You didn't sit with the team during meals, you even skipped over movie nights or any other 'team-bonding' exercise the rest came up with. The only other person who saw you more frequently than most was Natasha. But given that you two were floormates, that was to be expected.

Bucky would sometimes catch a glimpse of you in the gym during the early hours, dancing around punching bags like a graceful ballerina but with a forceful punch and kick that would rival the best and the greats—ruthless just like how you were trained to be.

It was the same time he usually went down, hoping to let off steam when he couldn't shake a particular nightmare. But when you got there first, he opted to go for an early run outside instead, giving you the space to yourself.

He had a feeling you needed it more.

Other than that, you were like a ghost in the compound. There was no physical evidence or any lingering traces of you in the common spaces.

But if and when you were around, your presence alone was palpable—quietly minding your business in a corner, but everyone was aware that you were there. It was that commanding and powerful aura you exuded.

It definitely reminded him of how a certain someone acted when he first got into the compound.

So he didn't take your indifference, borderline coldness to heart at the start since you weren't overly friendly to everyone.

But as weeks turned to months and the atmosphere around you began to shift, the contrast between your attitudes suddenly became more apparent.

There was a difference between how you acted around the team and how you behaved around him.

Bucky was quick to realize that you were definitely colder and much more judgemental when it came to him.

From your deathly glares during meetings, pointed eye rolls with each question he asked about letting you join on missions, audible enough scoffs to every comment he made, to completely turning away from him with a disapproving shake of your head, cursing him out in Russian under your breath as if he wasn't fluent in the language, as if he wouldn't catch you with superhuman hearing.

Your dislike towards him was excessively obvious.

Even more so as you began to acclimate in the compound, feeling more and more comfortable around fellow Avengers as you came out of your hard shell—you were now present during game nights and movie nights, you'd sat in the dining hall with the team during dinners, and willingly joining in when it was time for training. You'd even become fast friends with Wanda and Sam.

You were now a little less menacing towards acquaintances and agents, too. Most were still scared of you, and rightfully so. You always wore that impassive expression that never gave a hint whether you liked the person or not. You barely even smile, at those you didn't know anyway—well, unless you wanted to make a point.

Like that one time you knocked an agent off his feet during a spar, clean and swift when he told you, 'You would look prettier when you smile.' You towered over the heaving man on the floor, eyeing his bleeding nose with a grin, wide and sarcastic.

Other than that, you'd learned to be somewhat cordial—consisting of curt nods, to tight-lipped smiles and less glaring—with everyone else.

Well, everyone except him.

Oh you hated him.

Bucky could feel it searing on his skin just from one simple look, rattling deep in his bones with every scoff of disdain.

As a matter of fact, everyone could feel the simmering tension in the air when you both were in the same room, quietly bubbling like magma under the earth, waiting for that small opening to finally burst into chaos.

It didn't take long for the first shift to happen, a crack between each other's resolve, the slight change between you both.

Bucky couldn't say it was for the better.

After all, going from silent glares and unspoken distaste to petty comments and loud arguments wasn't exactly classified as an improvement.

•••

"I don't trust her, Steve."

"You haven't even given her a chance."

"She's an ex-HYDRA assassin," Bucky pressed, his scowl deepening when his best friend brushed him off. "They can never be trusted."

"Takes one to know one."

Bucky's heart stopped at the sound of your voice, body freezing momentarily once he saw you sat on the kitchen counter, legs kicking aimlessly as you read a book.

You looked innocent—so fucking cute, but he wasn't going to acknowledge that—like you could never do any harm. But he knew better. Which was why he couldn't stop his stomach from churning solely from the fact that you heard what he said.

And without even lifting your eyes from the page, you still were able to get a read on him.

It was frustrating how good you were.

"What?" you scoffed, taking a bite of the plum he was sure was taken from his stash. He was the only one who constantly brought them into the team. Finally looking at him, you raised a brow, pouting at him tauntingly. "Too scared to say it to my face?"

"I don't like people who keep secrets," Bucky huffed, arms crossed over his chest with a sharp glare as he looked you straight in the eye. "It was never mentioned how they found you, and we usually don't pick up strays off the street."

"Buck," Steve warned.

You closed your book with a harsh snap, hopping off the counter swiftly before walking towards him with a blank face. Taking another bite of the plum, you never broke eye contact, the fire in your gaze flickering the second you were standing right in front of him.

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat, his skin prickling with heat as you pointedly scanned him from head to toe, arms over your chest to mirror his stance, your head tilted in that annoyingly adorable way.

Yet the smallest adoration he held was quickly replaced by pure animosity the moment you opened that pretty little mouth of yours.

"Rich coming from HYDRA's favorite lost and found pet," you said, face calm, voice just as much with a touch of being cold. The only other hint that showed your emotion was the fire that kept growing in those gorgeous eyes. Brow raised, you added, "At least I don't look homeless."

"Watch your fucking mouth," Bucky snarled, taking a challenging step forward, towering over you with fists clenched at his sides.

You pouted, seeming innocent as you hummed, "You know, they say lice make people irritable. You should get that checked."

His vibranium arm whirred, nostrils flaring as a growl rumbled in his chest.

You did nothing but smirk.

Before he could even open his mouth for a rebuttal, Steve was quick to get between you both.

"Alright, knock it off," he sighed, hand firm on Bucky's chest as he shot him a silent warning before turning to you. "There's a quick undercover op in Palermo, Sicily. Nothing more than a quick recon mission. Fly in, attend a party, gather intel, interrogate if necessary, fly out. And I want you two to be partners in it."

"When is this?" you asked, turning to Steve with brows furrowed in curiosity.

"In two days."

"Okay."

Bucky blinked.

He was surprised at how quick you were to agree. He expected you to argue against it, whine and complain about how you didn't want to go with him, list a bunch of things where he wasn't capable enough or just downright say you didn't trust him.

As if reading his mind—or perhaps he really needed to work on his poker face—you shrugged, adding, "It's a job at the end of the day. I can work with anyone and be professional about it."

You definitely did that on purpose to make him look bad.

Fucking kiss-ass.

"Good," Steve said with a smile which you irritatingly returned. "I'll have FRIDAY send you the file."

"Rogers that, Captain," you snorted at your own joke, waving your hand at Bucky before turning on your heel, your voice echoing down the hallway as you called out, "Just make sure he washes his hair! I don't want whatever's living in there to inhabit mine!"

Once you were gone, Bucky let out an exasperated sigh when Steve gave him that I'm-not-angry-just-disappointed look.

Again.

"Are you seriously taking her side?" he griped.

"I'm not taking any sides." Steve shrugged, arms crossed. "But, I mean, you called her unreliable behind her back, basically told her you didn't like her to her face, and then called her a stray which was unnecessary and uncalled for. You were kinda asking for it."

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, a few deep breaths before grumbling, "Is there really no one else available for this mission?"

"Well, I'll see if Liam—"

No.

Liam was an arrogant piece of shit agent who stared at you for far too long during training to be considered appropriate. It was obvious enough, how he saw you as a prize to be won, proof of being 'the ultimate alpha male who could tame the lioness.' Those were the exact words Bucky overheard in the gym showers and it took everything in his power not to break a jaw or two.

That idiot would bottle the whole op trying to get your attention. And judging from what Bucky knew about him, it wasn't difficult to assume that he would end up thinking with the wrong head. He'd be more of a burden to you than an actual help.

Bucky was already filled in on what the mission was about, including what you were going to be pretending as. It was one of the many reasons why he was having doubts about you two being partners in this.

After all, for the mission to be a success, you had to sell the cover first. When you both couldn't be in the same room without showing utter disdain, when all of your conversations—the rare moments that you did have one—were more or less an argument, when you didn't even like each other, how on earth would you manage to convince everyone else that you two were happily and lovingly married?

It was impossible.

So you couldn't really blame him for being doubtful.

And no, it had nothing to do with how his whole body tingled with anticipation—and maybe excitement—nor the way his heart stuttered at the thought of being your husband.

But with all that said, he would be caught dead first before he'd allow Liam to take full advantage of it and see this mission as an opportunity rather than something to be taken seriously.

"Liam is incompetent. He'll only slow her down, compromise her and end up blowing their cover. It's obvious he's going to be distracted with all the fancy shit to not do his job at all. Someone's going to get hurt because he's fucking full of himself and—" Bucky stopped when he caught the way the blond was looking at him.

Steve was smirking, proud and all-knowing, wriggling his brows as if he got the exact reaction he wanted.

It was obvious Bucky fell right into his trap.

The consequence of having a best friend who knows you too well.

"I fucking hate you, Rogers," he growled, shoulder-checking Steve as he made his way back to the elevator.

It only made the punk laugh.

"I'll see you at the briefing, buddy!"

•••

Bucky rolled his eyes when he saw the audience waiting on the tarmac two days later.

The whole team was practically present, obviously wanting to see what would happen during your first mission together with him.

It was ridiculous.

They somewhat made this whole thing between you two as a source of entertainment. It was harmless enough since they never really did anything to provoke reactions. It was wholeheartedly both your own doing. But that didn't make it less annoying.

His scowl deepened when Sam took one look at him before bursting out into rambunctious laughter. He also didn't miss the way Nat and Wanda were trying their best to hold back their giggles.

"Looks good on you." Clint nodded, grinning.

"Thanks." He rolled his eyes, instinctively running his fingers through his newly cropped hair.

It was closer to how he used to wear it back in the 40s. The long cut was starting to get in the way, even during simple, everyday errands. It was also to help him look less recognizable for this undercover mission, paired nicely with the flesh camouflage Bruce had temporarily installed on his metal arm.

Other than that, Bucky figured it was time for a change. And what better way to mark a new chapter in his life than by getting a haircut?

It definitely wasn't because a small part of him was craving your approval.

"Oh," Steve said when he reached the tarmac, blinking a few times before smiling. "It looks good, Buck."

"Why is everyone making a big deal out of my haircut?" he grumbled exasperatedly.

"It's not about the haircut," Natasha butted in, the corner of her lips curved up. "It's why you got it."

"I didn't think you'd take what she said seriously," Steve chuckled.

"First of all, I got this haircut because I wanted a haircut. That's it. Second—" Bucky glared at his best friend. "—did you tell everyone about the lice insult?"

"I didn't tell anyone!" he defended, hands in the air. "I swear!"

"He didn't. Frosty was ranting to Nat and Wanda and I just happened to overhear the best parts," Sam snickered. "But God, you need her attention so bad."

"I don't need her attention," he huffed, crossing his arms. "I very much enjoy it if it's elsewhere."

"Whatever you say, Buckaroo."

Speaking of the beauty that was the devil, you walked out of the building with Tony, his hands gesticulating wildly, probably explaining the enhancement on the outfit you were currently wearing.

A newly improved tactical suit.

Bucky cleared his throat as he ran his fingers through his hair, straightening out his gear as he tried not to stare.

But fuck it was hard.

How could he not look when the combination of Kevlar and lycra hugged your body in all the right places? At first glance, it was all black from head to toe, but underneath the light, the color would shift. There was a bluish tinge to it, the straps and belts a deep silver-blue, the combination of colors representing the likes of dark ice and frost. He couldn't see the lower half of your face, your signature mask only showing off those menacing eyes. And show them off they did because not only did the half-mask make you look even more threatening, it also made your eyes even more beautiful. The dark fabric definitely brought more attention to them, a twinkle in your irises especially when the sunlight would hit them just right.

You definitely brought two different meanings to the phrase 'If looks could kill.'

One, your death glare was definitely promising, and two Bucky had never seen someone be so beautiful, so gorgeously deadly that his heart felt like it might take him out.

He didn't realize that he was actively staring until Sam's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Damn. You're more pathetic than I thought."

Bucky shot him a glare, landing a very soft punch to his stomach before storming into the Quinjet, quickly settling into the pilot's seat. He was done dealing with the team's antics, and he knew they'd only get rowdier when you're close. 

"Why is everyone here?" you said, and he could almost picture you rolling your eyes. "Why are you guys acting like you're sending your kids to boarding school?"

"Well, with how you and Terminator behave, it's not that different," Tony quipped. You must've glared at him because he was quick to add, "I'm kidding! You two are very mature adults."

"You guys are ridiculous," you snorted, boots hitting metal echoing around the space as you made your way inside.

"Have fun you two!"

"Not too much fun! I want that jet spotless when it gets back!"

"Please don't kill each other on the way!"

"Oh they grow up so fast."

Bucky rolled his eyes, shutting the latch once you finally settled yourself right beside him.

Your reasoning for the choice, he had no idea. You honestly could've picked every other available seat which was plenty. He decided not to dwell on it, stopping his mind from wandering too far into presumptuous thoughts.

But he definitely didn't miss the way you glanced at his hair.

He also didn't miss the way you were trying not to smirk.

"Stop gawking and put your goddamn seatbelt on," he grumbled, starting the jet before shrugging. "Or don't."

"You're so full of yourself," you scoffed, yet did as he said without any more protest.

"You're not as subtle as you think you are."

"M'just glad to know you actually listen to me, much less, take my advice."

"Now, who's full of themselves?" he mocked, rolling his eyes. "My haircut has nothing to do with you."

You were quiet for a moment. But he should've known better. It was something he learned lately, how you always felt the need to have the last word.

"Whatever pacifies your ego, Barnes."

Bucky could only growl in response.

•••

"Can you hurry up!" he called out after glancing at his watch for the fifth time.

He was fully dressed, in a suit and tie this time instead of his tactical gear. He'd already double-checked his weapons twice, a variety of them hidden underneath his jacket for ease of access.

And you still hadn't come out of the bathroom.

Bucky was sitting on one of the lounge chairs by the bed, glaring at the dark wood separating you from him as if it would help you be quicker with whatever it was you were doing in there.

He was about to call out again when the door slammed open, harsh and quick that it bounced off the wall.

Bucky's breath was sucked out of his lungs once he saw you in your long and fitted black dress, the silk fabric complementing your figure, a very high slit exposing your thigh, straps thin on your shoulders they might as well be non-existent and a deep V neckline to match.

He suddenly felt hot when he saw that the dress was unzipped, exposing your back from the nape of your neck all the way down, stopping just above the swell of your—

He blinked out of his haze when you ignored him completely and marched towards the floor-length mirror in the corner of the room. Your scowl was deep, irritation obvious in your demeanor as you looked for something, your back facing the mirror as you glared at your reflection over your shoulder.

"I'm going to kill Natasha for picking this dress," you mumbled under your breath, so obviously talking to yourself but without taking into account his enhanced hearing. "Who puts a zipper this goddamn small you can't even find it."

"Jesus—" Bucky rolled his eyes, standing up from his place and stalking towards you. "Turn around."

Your eyes snapped up to his, glare deadly as you hissed, "I don't need your help—"

"Get over yourself will you?" he scoffed. "We're going to be late."

"Fine," you gritted, turning around abruptly and crossing your arms. "Since you so badly want to make yourself feel useful."

Your quip went in one ear and out the other. Not because he was done with your shit—which he was—but because he was rendered speechless by what he was seeing.

There was a temptation to trace the path from the small of your back up to your spine, to feel your warm and naked skin underneath his fingertips.

But his attention was captured by something else entirely.

His lips curled into a frown as he scanned the nape of your neck. Now that he was closer, he could see the way your delicate skin was littered with scars, ones that weren't his nor was his infliction, but were familiar to him it made his chest ache.

Absentmindedly, his fingers hovered over it, close and featherlight to feel a prickle of electricity, but not enough for it to fully touch. He circled the smallest yet deepest one, right in the middle where he assumed the chip was embedded. His frown deepened as he traced the various jagged lines that started from the center, crawling down like roots and stopping just at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. 

Bucky ignored the goosebumps that rose from your skin, heavily fighting the urge to kiss it.

You cleared your throat, looking at him through your periphery. "What, you've never seen scars before?"

"Those are scratch marks," he stated as a fact, voice coming out rougher than he'd intended to.

Bucky knew because he had similar-looking ones that covered his left shoulder.

Like someone was trying to claw it out of their skin.

"Yeah, well," you grumbled, shifting in your black heels. "It's not like I wanted that chip in me."

Almost instinctively, he leaned closer, lips parted, your body shivering as his breath brushed over your skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, hurriedly yet carefully zipping up your dress before walking towards the door.

"I'll wait for you outside," he said before closing it behind him without looking back.

Bucky paced up and down the hall in hopes that it would help shake the absolute rage he felt.

Not at you, but for you.

It was sudden yet burning, the anger in his blood at the simple thought of what those fucking assholes did to you. It didn't help in the slightest that he was so familiar with their methods.

It made him want to burn every person who laid a hand on you alive.

If the world managed to catch fire during that, then so fucking be it.

Bucky didn't know where it came from, the sense of protectiveness over you. It was so strong and unrelenting that it blatantly showed the second you stepped into the ballroom. From the way he'd held you closer by his side, arm secured around your waist as you mingled with guests, to his sharp glare aimed at any man who lingered too close and stared at you far too inappropriately.

He was telling himself it was part of the ruse, to sell this fake marriage to a viable audience so you could get the intel—gathering names that were connected to the Mafia, and when you're attending the birthday party of the Don, it wasn't difficult to do so—that you needed. He was watching your back like how any good partner should during missions. Even though he hated you, he wasn't cruel enough to let you get hurt. You could never know who was harmlessly flirting with you, and who was there with ulterior motives. It was better safe than sorry.

It definitely was not anything personal for him.

Despite everything, the mission went surprisingly well—smoothly even. It was impressive, borderline uncanny, the way you matched each other as if you'd been partners for years instead of this being the first.

It was easy, reading the signal you gave before Bucky made his way toward the elevators. The few moments he left you alone were enough for you to do what was needed, tempt and seduce. It was easy, a slimy yet important capo immediately taking the bait. Not that Bucky could blame him either. Nobody stood a chance when you were the one luring.

And just as the metal doors opened with a soft ding, Bucky stepped aside, letting you and the unsuspecting, inebriated man stumble in, slurring obscenities about 'getting some' as he clung to you, grumbling about 'showing you a better time than your husband.'

Bucky didn't even hide his scowl as he followed, fist slamming harshly on the button of your hotel floor. He wasn't gentle either as he injected the guy with a drug Bruce had concocted, one that made someone drunk to a point that they wouldn't remember what happened the next day while they were under the influence. Something about brain chemicals and whatnot.

Once you reached your shared room, he let you take the reins, sitting in a corner with a glass of whiskey as he watched. He wanted to see just how immersed you got when you were in your element.

And Bucky was impressed.

The way you circled that tied man, unhurried yet calculating, fingers trailing, taunting him, making him shiver in anticipation as to what you'd do next. Your voice was sickly sweet yet never less threatening as you asked questions that even Bucky had a whiplash listening to you talk.

You were like a poisonous wild berry, sweet, alluring, tempting on the outside, but downright deadly if you take a bite.

He also found it extremely hot but he wasn't going to talk about that.

It didn't take long for the man to spew out valuable information. But when he was being particularly difficult in some cases, Bucky stalked closer, shrugging his suit jacket off, rolling up his sleeves, and turning the flesh camouflage off. When the lamp on the bedside reflected on his metal forearm, it was enough to make the captive talk more.

Bucky took the liberty of doing cleanup once you got all the information you needed while you changed out of your dress in the bathroom. You were adamant about not needing his help with the zipper this time. He didn't bother to insist.

He stripped the unconscious man down to his boxers, tucking him to bed to make it seem like a one-night stand and nothing more. It wasn't like the idiot would remember much in the morning, anyway. He also made sure there was no trace of any of you in the room, checking twice to be sure he didn't miss anything.

Once everything was cleared and his bag was packed, you emerged out of the bathroom, now back in your tactical suit. You wordlessly made your way out of the hotel, Bucky right on your tail.

Neither of you spoke a word as you flew back home that same night.

The air was tense in the Quinjet.

And as much as people could argue that it was always like that whenever you and Bucky were in the same room, this time, it felt different.

Bucky couldn't just pinpoint as to why exactly that was.

The only thing he could clearly see was that you were even more guarded than before. Yet as hardened as your face was, your eyes were telling a different story. There was a distant look in them as if you were in a different place right this second.

Even as you got back to the compound and sat in one of the conference rooms for a debrief with Steve, there was still something off about you. You were quieter than usual, only speaking when spoken to. You even rushed to leave the room before Steve could fully wrap things up.

The blonde had shot him a questioning—almost accusing—look, probably also noticing your uncanny behavior. But all Bucky could do was shrug because even he wasn't quite sure as to what was on your mind that undeniably put you off.

Was it the moment in front of the mirror when he'd traced your scar? Or was it everything that transpired in the ballroom?

Having his arm around your waist, pulling you so close to his side he could practically feel your body heat through the layers of his suit, moments where he'd lean down to whisper in your ear, you masking it with a giggle as if the intel was the funniest thing he'd ever told you.

It was without a doubt the closest you two have ever been physically, pretending to be husband and wife, gazing into each other's eyes as if you were in love.

That was quite a lot for people who hated each other.

Or was that just him?

And even though Bucky was tired after the mission, he couldn't get a wink of sleep.

It wasn't from nightmares this time though—well, not his anyway.

Laying in his bed, staring at the random design engrained on the ceiling, Bucky couldn't stop thinking about what horrors you went through while you were under HYDRA's influence.

He wished his imagination was way worse than reality, that his head was making every situation far more gruesome and cruel than it truly was.

But Bucky knew better.

He knew that his imagination couldn't even come close to what truly transpired. And in this line of work, reality was always much worse.

Besides, he did live through it himself.

But knowing you had gone through something similar, somehow, it felt much more…hurtful.

Maybe this was the whole not wishing it on your worst enemies type of thing. Maybe it was an understanding. Maybe it was simply empathy. Maybe it was the culmination of everything mentioned all at once.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

•••

"I didn't think I'd see the day where someone would actually challenge his staring problem."

"She doesn't look phased, though."

"He's definitely losing."

"I can hear you," Bucky said, loud enough for Sam and Wanda to hear but never taking his eyes off you even for a second.

"Good morning, Frosted Flakes." Sam walked over to you with a pat on the head.

You looked away from Bucky then, swatting Wilson's hand away, nose scrunched adorably with a snort, "What happened to 'Frosty'?"

"Oh no, your nickname is still Frosty," Sam chuckled. "Just sprinkling some spice every once and a while."

Bucky's grip on his mug tightened when he saw you flash Sam a genuine smile.

It's been a week since your mission together and you were back to your usual self—friendly to the team and absolutely loathing him still. As a matter of fact, you'd been acting as if the mission didn't happen at all, fully putting it behind you like a closed case.

Bucky wasn't quite sure if he was relieved or annoyed about it.

Fine.

He was annoyed because how could you be so nonchalant about the whole thing when he hadn't been able to think of anything else since?

It was infuriating seeing you so unaffected while he was still losing sleep, remembering how your warm body felt pressed up against his and the way your breath tickled the skin just below his ear whenever you whispered some information to him.

Then came the thoughts about your scars—what ifs and I hope not's with what happened to you in that facility. His chest would ache every time he closed his eyes and the image of your hurt skin would flash in his mind.

Or he'd find himself blushing like a schoolboy, wondering how things would've played out if he didn't hesitate, if he actually tried kissing it better—

"I never got to know why your alias is Frost," Wanda asked out of genuine curiosity.

"Cold-blooded killer, stone-cold heart, grew up and was trained in a cold climate, pretty basic actually. And, well," you paused, raising a brow his way. "Winter was taken."

"Can never trust someone who still goes by their name as a killer," he scoffed.

The way your whole face turned cold as you looked at him was so impressive it made Bucky's heart sting with longing.

Still, he didn't shy away from your glare.

It was only during these moments that he could shamelessly look into your gorgeous eyes, after all.

"I'm reclaiming it as my own. You give the name they gave you power, they still have control over you. Now, when I take back that power, the only one who has control over me, is me." You crossed your arms over your chest, head tilting as you added, "I think you can learn a thing or two about that, Soldat."

The chair screeched as Bucky stood from his seat, stalking towards you with a low growl. You simply turned to look at him, letting him tower over you with no ounce of fear in your demeanor. His fists clenched, vibranium arm whirring when you dared to smirk at him. 

You raised a brow, chin raised high and cocky, so defiant, so bratty, it makes him want to—

"Case and point," you whispered proudly.

Before Bucky could even come up with a comeback, Steve's voice interrupted,

"Break it off." The captain walked into the room with his shoulders slumped as if he was tired of dealing with the same shit every day.

Bucky almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

"Do you have a radar for when we start fighting?" you snorted.

"Maybe," he said, brow raised at you. "Nat's been waiting for you in the training room."

"I don't need any more training," you grumbled, and with Bucky still standing quite close to you, he could almost see you pouting.

Or maybe he was just imagining it.

"There's no such a thing as too much training," Steve said in that 'captain voice' of his. "Besides, you need to learn how to hold back your punches."

"So, you're saying…" you sighed. "You don't trust me not to kill anyone?"

Bucky has never seen Steve turn bright red so quickly in his life.

"No! That's not—"

You giggled.

Bucky couldn't even begin to describe what his heart did in his chest.

You walked over to the blushing blonde, patting his chest with a bright smile. "Just messing with you, Steve."

He wasn't sure if he was jealous of the casual affection you were able to give to Steve, or the fact that his best friend got along so well with you that you might as well have known each other all your life.

Yet either thought was pushed to the back of his head as he watched you walk away in those goddamn leggings. There was always a certain sway to your hips whenever you moved, a confidence he couldn't help but be captivated by. But those goddamn gray leggings, for reasons he couldn't explain, were somehow accentuating everything that much more. From your hips to your thighs and that ass—

"Get out of my head, Maximoff," Bucky grumbled, cheeks burning when he caught the way the redhead was quietly smirking in the corner. 

"I wasn't even in your head," Wanda laughed, still honoring the promise she made to him to always respect his boundaries when it came to his mind, which he was grateful for. "It's all over your face."

"You look hungry as hell, man," Sam added, grinning. 

"Well, if you want to ogle more," Steve teased, smiling amusedly. "Don't you have your recruits to train?"

Bucky could only flip them off as he walked towards the elevator.

•••

Fists hitting against bags, punches blocked with precision, hisses and groans as bones met muscle, bodies landing on padded floors with low grunts, and the occasional cheers and hollers from the opposite side of where he stood.

There was quite a crowd at the training room—and by room he meant a whole floor—at this time of day. After all, it was mostly everyone's schedule for it.

It was hectic, and for someone with enhanced senses, it can be overstimulating. But Bucky had grown to learn how to focus the amount of input his brain took. Right now, it wasn't on the young boy he was currently sparring with.

Oh no.

It was over at the mats where a crowd had formed. It was like fight night, a challenge born out of pure pride and ego as to who could land even just one blow on the current victor.

You.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky watched you dance around a man who was more or less a foot taller than you. It was graceful, the way you jumped onto his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his neck before you twisted your body, using the momentum to flip the agent onto his back, tightening your thighs around his neck before he rapidly started tapping on the mat.

You barely even broke a sweat.

Bucky swiftly raised his right arm, blocking a high kick from the recruit. It was a valiant effort but it simply wasn't quick enough to surpass his enhanced senses.

"Good thinking to use a moment's distraction to your advantage," he commended, grabbing his ankle and flinging the kid over his shoulder. "But never underestimate your opponent."

He looked around his group, fresh graduates and all looking properly beaten and tired, and not just physically. None of them had ever won a spar with him. But, well, not to sound egotistical, but it was never a fair fight to begin with.

He was a supersoldier for crying out loud.

As their trainer, he could keep going. There were no breaks out there in a real fight. But then again, he has to remember that his blood was fueled differently compared to them.

Besides, his attention was most definitely elsewhere, and he kinda wants to watch a different session instead.

Was he slacking on the job? Maybe.

But hey, let's say he was simply trying not to drain the life out of the newbies.

"Great job today," Bucky said with a curt nod. "We'll continue this tomorrow."

Relief rolled over the group like a wave, and he resisted the urge to chuckle. As they all left one by one, Bucky remained at his station, leisurely sipping on his water as he watched the commotion across him.

"Do I really need to keep doing this?" you sighed at Steve after you pinned down yet another recruit who was definitely a few sizes bigger than you, swift and hard to disorient them but not enough to cause any real damage. Properly learning how to hold back your punches. "Aren't I supposed to be showing what I'm truly capable of?"

"You're getting cocky," Nat chuckled, throwing an M&M in her mouth.

"I'm not," you shrugged, yet your smirk said otherwise. You stood up, dusting your shoulder to make a show out of it. "I just want a challenge for once."

"Okay," Steve hummed, scanning the room before his eyes met his, gesturing for him to come over. "Hey, Buck!"

Here we go.

With a sigh, Bucky walked over to your group.

"Really? You want me to hold back on him?"

You couldn't have toned down your disdain even if you tried.

"Bold of you to assume you can lay a finger on me," he countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You wanted a challenge so, go ahead," Steve hummed. "No holding back this time. I'm sure Buck can take it."

"I feel insulted that he's the standard," you grumbled, hands on your hips as you raised a brow at him. "But if you're telling me not to hold back I might end up killing him."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Cute."

"Let's see if it's cute if I've got a knife down your throat."

"Jesus—" Steve ran a hand over his face before shooting you both a look. "I didn't say kill each other."

"Fine," you sighed dejectedly. "I'll try not to."

"Don't worry, Steve," Bucky hummed, smirking. "I'll go easy on her."

You were the first to attack.

Bucky expected you to go for the chest. With the short moment he observed you, that was usually what you went for when an opponent had a much larger stature than you. But surprisingly, you slid through his legs, kicking the back of his knee to make them buckle, causing him to fall forward. Catching himself on both hands, he rolled to the right just as your foot landed on where his head had been.

Is she actually trying to kill me?

He grabbed your ankle then, pulling it so rapidly that it had you landing on your chest with a cough. Before Bucky could even blink, you twisted, your leg hitting the side of his face. He stumbled back with a groan, giving you enough time to get back on your feet.

With deep breaths, you glared at each other from your places on the mat, bodies at the ready for another round.

Bucky attacked.

From the outside looking in, you two might as well have been doing a choreographed routine. You were dancing around each other, blocking some punches, landing a few kicks, and just when you thought that one had locked the other down, they'd immediately slipped from their grasp.

And this went on and on and on and on.

Nobody could decipher as to who would win this fight.

It was mesmerizing.

Bucky was impressed at the way you could keep up with him. He wasn't counting the time, but your stamina never seemed to waver. You didn't seem to have any need to catch your breath. You were definitely better than any of the agents, and dare he say it, any of the Avengers he'd sparred with.

Then again, your skills were a mixture of a Black Widow and HYDRA. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that you were simply that good.

But Bucky was better.

He was also at an advantage since The Winter Soldier's fighting style was so clearly the blueprint for your training. That was one of the things he always noticed when it came to HYDRA. When one thing was a success, they were going to run that program to the ground.

If Bucky hadn't known any better, he might as well have trained you himself.

He was able to predict your next move quite easily, already knowing what his counterattack would be before you could even land a blow.

It was making you frustrated.

Bucky couldn't help but be cocky about it.

"Killing me, huh?" he whispered against your ear once he had you in a chokehold.

Again. 

"Don't tempt me to do it," you hissed, head thrown back abruptly to catch his nose.

Once his grip loosened even the slightest bit, you pushed his arm and dropped to the ground in a crouching position, spinning with one leg out to sweep him off his feet. He stumbled but didn't fall. In an attempt to keep the momentum, you tried to go for a handstand kickup, but Bucky caught your ankle before you could even complete your move, tossing you over his shoulder with little effort.

Quickly, you were back on your feet. Sweat covered your body as you heaved. There was a cut on your brow to match his bleeding nose, the bruise on your lip was looking quite similar to his, too.

Still, you looked absolutely beautiful.

But even with your fists up, seemingly ready to go again, Bucky could see your strength waning by the second, and your frustration wasn't helping you one bit.

That was always aweakness.

You will lose if you let your emotions come into play, no matter how well trained you were.

"That all you got?" Bucky taunted, arms out as he tilted his head with a pout. "He told you not to hold back, принцесса."

He hadn't meant to taunt the nickname in Russian. It just slipped out, like it somehow felt right to say it that way.

Yet the fire that lit your eyes was screaming at him otherwise—a look so raw and unnerving it made Bucky break out into nervous sweats.

It all happened so fast.

Bucky was caught off-guard when you ran to him at full speed with a growl, your knee hitting his chest with such force it knocked him onto his back. He hissed when he felt your knee dig into his rib, putting all your weight on it to hold him down. His head tilted up once he felt the cold, sharp blade against his neck.

In his periphery, he saw Nat patting herself down, eyes flickering over to the knife you were holding against Bucky's throat, her eyes wide in shock. 

Natalia Alianovna Romanova, one of the world's best and deadliest assassins, didn't even notice you taking a knife from her belt.

That was how fast it happened.

"Call me принцесса again and see what happens," you said, low and menacing. You were so close, your warm breath was tickling his lips but Bucky could only focus on your eyes.

There were so many emotions swimming in them, yet the sadness was what intrigued him the most.

But before he could get a proper read, you were gone.

The next thing he knew there was a dagger flying past his head, embedding itself on the mat. He felt something warm trickle down his ear. Bucky didn't need to see to know that you'd managed to graze his skin enough to draw some blood.

A warning.

He wasn't even given the time to collect himself before you were already leaving the room, the door slamming shut behind you.

Blinking twice, only then did Bucky realize that you had managed to gather quite the audience, all of which were silenced as to what just happened.

"What'd he call her?" Sam asked, holding a packet of Skittles in one hand.

"Printsessa. It's Russian for princess," Nat explained, shaking her head disappointedly before rushing to follow you.

Bucky was confused. 

He thought it was quite an overreaction to calling someone an innocent nickname.

"Right! The show's over!" Steve's 'captain voice' boomed. "Everyone back to their duties!"

Bucky sighed, running a hand over his face before taking the outstretched hand Steve was offering him.

"I don't get it," the blonde murmured once he helped him up and offered him tissues.

"What?" Bucky asked, wiping the blood off his skin. 

"You and Y/N," Steve elaborated. "I really thought you two would get along so well."

Bucky frowned. "What made you think that?"

"You're basically two peas in the same pod," Steve said as if it was obvious enough.

"We're nothing alike," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"The two of you are more alike than you think."

•••

"What's all this?"

It was never common to see Steve Rogers hauling boxes out of his room on a random Thursday morning. And one glance at his open door, the space was completely empty.

"You're leaving?" Bucky pressed worriedly.

"No," Steve chuckled. "Just moving floors."

Bucky's brows furrowed. "Why?"

"Because you—"

The blonde was cut off when the elevator dinged. It was more stacks of boxes being rolled into the space. But then a figure stepped into view. Steve turned to him with a shit-eating grin.

"—are getting a new floormate."

Bucky has never wanted to punch him so badly.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me, Rogers."

His so-called best friend only smirked at him.

To most, Steve Rogers was the golden boy, America's greatest hero.

To Bucky? He was just an annoying little shit.

"Y/N," Steve greeted once you crossed paths in the living room.

"Steven," you responded, moving aside to let him and his stuff into the elevator.

"Try and don't kill each other please," he said, raising his brow knowingly.

You shrugged. "No promises."

"Be nice!" was the punk's last words before the elevator doors closed.

You didn't even spare Bucky a glance.

Instead, you just started bringing the boxes you brought with you into Steve's—well, your room.

Bucky, with no desire to help, casually leaned against the wall. He simply watched you make the repeating journey, taking box after box with you.

"Why did you agree to this?" he asked after a minute.

"Because I'm a good fucking friend, Barnes."

"What did Natasha bribe you with?"

"Fuck's sake," you groaned, dropping the box only to shoot him a glare. "Are favors for friends a new concept to you?"

"Favor? What favor?" he pushed. "Having Steve as a floormate?"

You ignored him, continuing with your task at hand.

"Why would she want Rogers to be next to her room—" Realization hit Bucky like a flying red white and blue shield. "Oh."

"Wow," you scoffed. "I knew you were dense but I was hoping Steve would've at least filled you in."

Bucky always knew that there was a little something between those two but he wasn't buying it as the only reason why Steve suddenly switched floors with you. They probably thought he wouldn't notice, but he did. Nat and Steve were the number one duo who had been trying to push the two of you to get along.

And when the tension only grew that much more after that incident in the training room, Bucky wouldn't be surprised if this whole floormate switch-up had something to do with their pursuit of making you act at least civil with one another.

"Don't worry," you said, placing the last box on the floor before meeting his eyes. "You won't even notice that you have a neighbor to begin with."

You slammed the door shut.

For the rest of the day, your statement remained true. Bucky barely heard from you at all, despite staying in his room given that it was his day off.

You were back to your ghostly ways, he supposed, keeping to yourself for the most part. But then again, it was only day one.

Unfortunately, your statement was immediately proven wrong that very same night.

Bucky was woken up by the faint whimpering he could hear through the wall. 

They weren't exactly thin, but they weren't soundproof either. There was a feature to cancel out the noise and prevent it from going out, but you had to enable it through FRIDAY.

You must've forgotten to turn it on.

He bolted out of bed when he heard you scream.

Bucky was outside your door in seconds, chest heaving as he pressed his palm flat against the surface.

He couldn't bring himself to knock.

Bucky simply didn't know if rushing inside your room was going to help you, or make things worse.

So he stood there, right outside your door, eyes screwed shut as pain clawed at his chest, listening as your screams turned to heart aching sobs.

Bucky had never felt so useless in his life.

He didn't know how long he was standing there, ears on high alert as he listened to every shaky breath you let out. He only went back to his room once you had gotten calmer.

Yet he didn't quite get some sleep that night.

Bucky—unbeknownst to you and him—had grown even more protective of you.

It was an unconscious act on his part, one he didn't even realize he was doing until Sam pointed it out.

It was always him who pointed things out, unfortunately.

"Since when did you become her guard dog?" Wilson had teased him once, right as they got back to the compound after a morning run.

His actions came to him in flashes. Whether that was immediately clocking any HYDRA agent coming your way and taking them out of the equation before you could even notice, taking extra precautions on missions for your behalf, or simply glaring at any agent who even did as much as look at you the wrong way. And if they actually said something, best believe Bucky didn't make it easy for them when it came to training.

But he never acknowledged Sam's words or outwardly showed that they affected him.

He only walked past Sam with a soft punch on the arm.

•••

Living on the same floor as you was…something.

For the first two weeks, it felt like Bucky was truly alone and that nobody lived in the room next door.

But as weeks turned to a month, traces of you were slowly integrating themselves around the common area, little things that made him know more about you.

You had a few cat-shaped mugs in the cupboard that made Bucky think you were a cat person. But then on a random day, he saw an orange one which looked like a dog, its face on one side and its butt on the other. He deduced that you simply liked animal mugs altogether because he saw a raccoon one, too. 

Then there was a knitted throw blanket on the sofa that smelled so much like you. It didn't take long for that to get followed by a fluffy pillow or two. All of them were one specific color but Bucky didn't know if that was your favorite one, or you simply liked to keep things coordinated. Maybe it was both.

Whether that was random knick knacks around the shelves, a DVD set by the TV, a well-loved book on the coffee table, the breadcrumbs of him having you as a floormate were starting to become apparent.

Besides that, he never truly felt like there was someone else on the same floor as him because rarely did you end up in your shared space at the same time.

If you did, you two always bickered to no end.

But as the sky turned from a shade of blue to the deep black of the night, Bucky was reminded that you were there right next to his room.

He wasn't overly fond of how the reminder was given.

Your nightmares didn't happen as frequently as he was prepared for them to be. But every other night was still a lot for one person to handle.

Bucky was yet to gain the courage to knock on the door.

It might have been creepy to just stand outside, it might as well have been cruel to do nothing while you were in distress.

But he was scared.

Not for him, but for you.

He honestly couldn't decipher whether he would be of any help or not if he just burst into your room unannounced. Because as confusing as living with you was, one thing remained clear.

You definitely still hated him.

"Can you fucking pick up after yourself?" you complained.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "It's one fucking spoon."

"Then put it in the sink!"

"Jesus fucking Christ what has that spoon ever done to you?"

"It's dirty and you're leaving it on the counter!"

"And?"

"You've got milk and cereal all over it!"

"I'm not asking you to clean it."

"But it's fucking annoying, you fucking slob!"

"Stop acting like you own this whole fucking place, printsessa."

It was truly impressive, how fast you had him pushed against the fridge with a goddamn bread knife against his throat.

It also stirred something in him but he wasn't ready to unpack that.

Bucky was holding his breath because if he did as much as relax, he knew the blade would nick his skin.

Who was he kidding, that definitely wasn't the reason he was holding his breath. He was a super soldier for crying out loud. He healed fast. A menial scrape wouldn't do much harm.

But you had just finished showering after your morning run and Bucky could smell your shampoo. Vanilla. Simple and sweet, a stark contrast to your fiery glare and the way you were holding a knife to his throat.

It was driving him insane.

"What did I say about calling me that," you said lowly.

"You know, you act so tough in front of everyone," he said, eyes defiantly glaring back at you. "But a meaningless nickname scares you this much?"

"Ne ispytyvay udachu, Soldat," you growled, pressing the knife that little bit harder.

Don't push your luck, Soldier.

Such a simple sentence yet it threw Bucky into an emotional rollercoaster.

He didn't know if it was the threat in itself, the way you spoke another language in that deep growl, or the fact that you were holding a knife down his throat but he felt scared there for a moment.

You were terrifying when you were angry.

And maybe this was such a fucked up thing to say but why was he turned on by it?

Bucky was grateful that you quickly left him alone after that. Once you were out of his enhanced earshot, he dropped his head and sighed, hoping and goddamn praying that you didn't notice the tent that had grown in his workout shorts.

It would've been so humiliating otherwise.

Shaking his head, Bucky could almost hear Sam's voice. 

"Damn, you're more pathetic than I thought."

•••

The mission was a bust.

One of the most important HYDRA scientists got away and managed to take with him the files they needed to track down other facilities.

The Avengers were gathered around the forest where the Quinjet was hidden. But instead of getting aboard and being on their way home, everyone was watching a screaming match instead.

Whenever a mission would go awry, everyone would regroup in the jet to try and discuss what went wrong and how to improve it on the next mission. There were never fingers thrown around as to whose fault it was because it was never anyone's fault.

But right now, you decided to blame it on him.

"What the fuck is your problem!" You all but marched up to Bucky, shoving him hard on the chest, making him stumble back in surprise. "Do you always get a kick at sabotaging my part of the mission?"

"Sabotage?" Bucky laughed humorlessly. "I don't care about you enough to do that."

However, if someone had seen what happened beforehand, they absolutely would call him a liar right to his face.

"Oh really?" you argued, shoving him again. The action was really riling him up. "Then why are you so fucking hell-bent on meddling with what I'm doing!"

"Because I don't fucking trust you!" Bucky gritted, aggressive with no ounce of truth as he took a step towards you. "I wouldn't be surprised if you let him get away. Sure as hell looked like you recognized him."

"Wow." You shook your head, scoffing, "So we're going to pretend like I'm the only one who used to work for HYDRA here?"

"Then why didn't you catch him?"

"You shoved me away!" you yelled, hands balling into fists. "I fucking had him!"

"You were being careless!" he stated the obvious, growling when you decided to shove him out of spite. Again. "You were about to get shot!"

"So fucking what!"

That only angered him more.

"Well, I'm sorry for fucking saving your life then!"

"How was I supposed to know someone was behind me? I don't have eyes on the back of my fucking head!" you countered, shoving a finger at the Captain without taking your eyes off Bucky. "And no, Steve, my partner didn't say a fucking thing even though he was supposed to watch my back!"

Bucky will throw his hands up and admit that you were right. But he didn't get a chance to warn you about it because he admittedly got distracted by nothing else but you.

For some reason, Steve found it helpful to partner you and Bucky during missions from time to time, said it was to build up the team chemistry. He had no qualms over it the first couple few, since you two did work quite well together despite your personal animosity.

But something about today's mission threw him off—specifically, the second you managed to get a hold of that scientist whose name he was yet to learn.

Yet it was clear as day that you recognized this man.

It was the first time Bucky truly saw this darker side of you. The pure and unbridled anger that captured your whole being was mesmerizing, the low drawl of your voice akin to a siren, captivating and that much more deadly.

And your eyes.

You didn't have superpowers but they honestly looked like they were starting to catch fire as you examined the man, as if thinking about all the ways you could make him suffer, turn him inside out with as much pain as you could muster.

During that moment, Bucky realized that he would've let you scorch the earth if it meant finally getting that revenge over the people who'd made you endure years of torture.

He would've stood by your side proudly.

It both aroused and scared him.

Embarrassingly so.

By then, Bucky didn't notice the HYDRA agent until they were already too close. All that was needed was one pull of the trigger.

So in a moment of panic, he ran, straight at you and shoved you out of the way.

It was either a slight bruise on your side or a bullet to the back of your head.

Bucky didn't take any chances.

Unable to control his strength, he pushed you across the room and knocked the breath out of you. And when he finished off the agent and you still hadn't gotten up, Bucky panicked. He honestly thought he might've killed you. And as he stood there in shock, only breathing again once you let out a sharp cough, the scientist already used that slim time to get away.

Yet despite the fear he felt during that moment, and the utter shame he was harboring because he failed as your partner on the field, his ego right this second couldn't even begin to admit that it was all his fault. So, he matched your glare.

"What's the point of saying something if you won't even fucking listen?"

"You know what, sure," you threw your hands up, so clearly exasperated. "Nothing of sense comes out of that mouth anyway,"

"Maybe I should've just let you take that bullet," he seethed, anger boiling over. Your defiance and absolute lack of fear as you squared up to him didn't help by one bit. "Finally get rid of the pain in my ass."

"As if you don't like getting pegged."

"Walk away you two," Steve commanded, voice stern and void of any patience. He gave Bucky's shoulder a push. You turned on your heel then.

But Bucky was just so angry that he couldn't stop himself from muttering under his breath in Russian. 

"Useless bitch."

He didn't mean it.

But you heard.

Oh you heard it loud and clear.

Bucky was sure of it because the next thing he saw was a gun pointed right in between his eyes.

"Maybe a bullet to the head will finally heal that blended brain of yours," you said, voice scarily calm, your face hardened and void of any emotion as you stared at him dead in the eye. "Or at least give justice to those innocent lives you took."

"Y/N!" Steve scolded, attempting to get you two to break it off.

But neither of you budged.

Everyone was on edge now, not entirely sure what to do next in case one wrong move would set either of you off.

"Rich, coming from you. But go ahead," he challenged, taking a step until the barrel of the gun was pressed right against his forehead. "Besides, it won't be too hard for you since you don't really discriminate against who you kill, do you? I mean, this wouldn't be the first time you killed your own teammate."

Tilting his head tauntingly, Bucky pouted. "Or was that your boyfriend?"

"Bucky!" Natasha gasped.

It wasn't the firm push of Steve's hand nor his tall stature standing in the middle that sobered Bucky up.

Oh no.

His anger left his body way before that.

The way your hand began to shake, the tremble on your lips, and the look of pure pain in your eyes was like a bucket of ice cold water.

Bucky knew that look.

He'd seen it through the mirror when a memory would replay itself in his head and there was nothing he could do except watch—the light leaving their eyes, the echo of screams, a gunshot, a body falling on the floor.

It was a look that was too familiar that Bucky felt the guilt clogging his throat because he knew he'd just managed to make you relive that specific moment over and over.

"That's enough!" Steve said firmly. "Both of you."

Bucky tried to meet your eyes, tried to immediately take back what he just said. But Natasha was already guiding you towards the jet, your head down with your arms around yourself.

"Don't," he sighed when Steve shot him a disappointed look. "I know."

Bucky followed the rest of the team after that.

The silence hung in the Quinjet during the journey home, a touch awkward but thick with tension.

You both have been forced to sit on opposite ends, as far from each other as possible. Well, forced wasn't the right word. You willingly put as much distance as you could from him, as if breathing the same air as him was out of the question.

Still, the jet felt as cramped as ever.

Rotting in his own guilt and self-pity, Bucky couldn't help but glance at you from time to time.

There was a harsh tug on his heartstrings when he saw you fiddling with the fabric of your tactical suit, flinching at the slightest turbulence or even the softest of sound. You'd never looked up once the second you sat there.

You were anxious.

He had never seen you like this before.

Mission reports could only tell so much, and when yours had been mostly redacted, Bucky knew nothing about what truly went down. Yet despite not being stated on the pages, he had an inkling that whatever your bond was with your aforementioned partner, it went far deeper than just a simple boyfriend and girlfriend relationship.

He didn't even know if it was given that label to begin with.

The worst of it all, Bucky knew that during that circumstance, you did the right thing.

And you paid a heavy price.

PART 2

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[librathefangirl]

i gotta get up in like 6 hrs but i can't sleep so here have the oh shit nnt thought of the night:

the only demon in THE demon hating club

this is a sentence my brain just came up with to describe Stigma Meliodas, and isn't that fucked up?? Like that was a very fucked up thing Meliodas put himself through. I feel like we as a fandom don't talk enough about how fucked up that was (shadowed by all the other fucked up things meli went through)

Because... not only did Meliodas' decision to join Stigma cause every demon to hate him, it also meant that he decided to spend his days around people who hated him or at the very least his race (that cannot have been good for his mental health which let's be honest probably was really shitty to begin with because of the dk and his childhood)

The goddess in the horn really wasn't that far off when she said he had no allies. Like obviously she wasn't right, but she wasn't entirely wrong either

Cause let's think about that in regard to Stigma Meliodas. We don't fully know how most of the members of Stigma felt about Meliodas, but considering they talked about slaughtering "every last one of the damned demon race" when Meli was literally RIGHT THERE (and none of them were like hey lucy maybe we shouldn't commit genocide) we can assume most of them wouldn't care if Meliodas died and probably only tolerated him being there because they had no choice (and if he was on their side then he wasn't on the enemy's side)

The way he responds to King (as Gloxinia) questioning his loyalty just seems so resigned, like he has been over this time and time; he knows Stigma don't trust him and he knows there's nothing he can say to change that, only his actions (him not betraying them) can prove he is actually on their side and not some deep undercover spy for the demons

Anyways I'm getting sidetracked- ALLIES! The only people in Stigma we know considered Meliodas an ally and friend are: Elizabeth (of course), Drole and Gloxinia, and then Rou

First let it sink in how fucking short that list is, and then let's think about each of those allies and what happens to them...

Elizabeth. Well. She dies. Horribly. And like I'm not even talking about the whole curse thing, I'm talking about how goddess Elizabeth died and Meliodas had to continue living. HE WOKE UP NEXT TO HER DEAD BODY. That was another very very very fucked up thing that happened (that we also don't talk about enough me thinks - cause like... he died. but then he didn't. but then she was still dead right next to him. and he didn't even know about the curse. he thought she was dead dead and he was alive. she was gone forever. and he was still living and now alone. very fucked up)

And then we have Rou. Rou who befriended Meliodas. Rou who knew Meliodas was a demon and didn't care and still called him a friend. Rou who only joined Stigma to get revenge on Stigma. Like yeah Rou didn’t hate every demon but he still brought that kind of hate and violence (regardless of his reasons). And was then also killed (by one of Mel's allies no less)

Which brings us to Drole and Gloxinia. Who had every reason to hate Meliodas (being the kings of their respective races) but still saw Meliodas as an ally and friend. Drole and Gloxinia who Meliodas then lost. Not to death but to the very side Meliodas himself had left in order to join Stigma. Who then also got sealed away for 3,000 years (leaving Meliodas not only without Elizabeth but also without his friends). And thennnn 3,000 years later, the same allies/friends are now Meliodas' enemies. (Hell Gloxinia is one of the Commandments who actively attack Meliodas in the fight leading up to Meli's literal death

And

Yeah

It's fucked up

It's also now only 5 hrs until i gotta get up so...

TLDR; The First Holy War era deserved more attention in canon and Stigma Meliodas went through some really fucked up shit

[scoobydoodean]

I was wondering if you, as a Dean fan have opinions about the different writers? Mostly because I see a lot of Dean fans really strongly dislike Dabb for some reason and I don’t really understand why. I’ve never seen a concrete explanation beyond “he can’t write Dean/doesn’t understand Dean/actively hates Dean” but with no examples as to what he does that’s so bad. And I see this in every shipping lane. I don’t have a strong opinion about him as a writer one way or the other.

I'm exploring this more as I rewatch the show (currently on season 6) so I'll speak mainly from that perspective on my most recent thoughts. I am not a big fan of Dabb or Loflin, but have tried to be fair about things so far when talking through each episode. I am a fan of "Alpha and Omega"—it's my favorite finale (it's also... a finale for a season Carver started as showrunner? So I don't know what the implications are there as far as storyboarding). Also points for having demon Dean stab a guy through in 10.02.

I'll focus on the negatives you asked about in this post, but in the links you'll find me moving the narrative this way and that toward much more charitable readings... I think. (I do have a tag #dabb disk horse which you can either peruse or blacklist at your leisure). What I can tell you is something almost always strikes me as a off about Dabb/Loflin episodes so far in this rewatch in terms of character work.

Dabb/Loflin's first ever episode was 4.06 "Yellow Fever". In the aftermath, Kripke felt the need to release a definitive interpretation of their episode to the public, stating, "Dean is not a dick... he's a hero." The whole episode toyed with, to an extent, the idea that all the victims of the MotW were bullies. You can take this other directions—for example, queer meta, or meta about Sam as the real bully. However, the story a lot of fandom latched onto was that "Dean is a jerk and deserves to be humiliated and punished for that" which obviously didn't make Dean fans watching live in season 4 happy—and this theme of Jerk!Dean continues into their next episode, "After School Special", where they once again parallel Dean with a bully literally nicknamed "Dirk the Jerk" by Sam, and throw what I think is transparent shade at Kripke's issued statement from before the Christmas break (post here)... or maybe they mean to throw shade at the Dean fans who got angry. In this episode, they also make illusions to Dean wanting to have sex with barely legal high school cheerleaders, which also did not ingratiate them to Deanfans at the time. I said on my last rewatch, "In After School Special, Dean seems more unlike himself than any episode ever in the history of Supernatural up to this point" (post explaining that here). I carry similar sentiments about portions of 5.06 "I Believe The Children Are Our Future". Yes—I am aware of performing Dean meta. I just... feel like they try a little too hard. It feels hamfisted—desperate. To the point it doesn't feel like Dean anymore sometimes. In 5.06, they also have Dean (guy who is generally very protective of kids) suggest to Jesse that he'd be good to have in a fight???? I can see how they got there, but again—it just feels... off. The last episode I rewatched that they authored, 6.04 "Weekend At Bobby's", also leaves a bad taste in my mouth—not in what it's trying to do with Bobby or what it's trying to do on a meta level—but once again, with dialogue from Dean that just makes me think "he would not fucking say that" (post here). I think looking at all of these, you can probably see deangirl ire toward Dabb has a long history. It's been around as long as he's been around, whether he deserves as much ire as he gets or not.

I haven't circled back yet on this rewatch, but Dabb and Loflin also penned season 7's "The Girl Next Door"... do I need to say anything specific? Maybe I'll just link my entire #amy tag. What narrative did they want you to get from that episode? Who the fuck knows. And that's often the problem:

When you watch various episodes I've mentioned, you can work around to a meta that tells you something different than you might at first think the page conveys—something hidden and maybe contradictory. The thing is... you could also... not do that? And that wouldn't be so bad, except that sometimes the two narratives you can most easily grasp completely contradict each other. "After School Special" can be an episode that points to Sam's envy of Dean and John deep down and foreshadows Sam becoming a bully, but on a meta level, it also just as easily says Sam becoming a bully is somehow Dean's fault, and Sam is some poor captive baby. Dean is a creep and a bully and a cheater but we should all coddle him because he saw his mom die when he was a child and he's sooo sad. "Yellow Fever" can be a queer meta story and might also foreshadow approaching Bully!Sam in 4.14, but it also very much does call Dean a jerk (should we take that seriously? should we not?) and implies Dean should be punished for the outcome of three decades of reality-bending torture. Even if it's a queer meta underneath... it's just as easily one about how closeted men should be humiliated for cowardice or how being closeted turns you into an asshole.

Jumping way ahead, I have to mention 15.10 "The Hero's Journey" just because. Yes, it is full of jokes and Garth goodness, but also tries to sell you the story that nothing about Sam and Dean is real, to a degree that feels like you are being flipped the bird for ever watching this show. And again—you can make meta that it's all a ruse! But is it? Or is Dabb actually just telling you to go fuck yourself? Like he totally wasn't when, after the SPN finale when fans were Not Happy™️, he tweeted a sign reading, "Don't feed the baboons"? Yet again—we play into the motif of the "hero" who isn't a hero at all but some pathetic loser who deserves to be publicly humiliated, bookended with Dabb's opening episode in his opening season. I'm not saying that's what it is on purpose—but I am saying you can make these arguments easily, and that leaves me consistently annoyed with Dabb for being fucking sloppy and leaving me to deal with some of the most insufferable meta imaginable that carries little support outside of episodes written by Dabb or the Dabb/Loflin writing team.... Yes—I am in fact saying that Dabb and Loflin's hamfisted episodes (regardless of their intentions) are largely responsible for some of the most insufferable, loathesome fandom metas about Sam and Dean's relationship around.

Look at 5.16 "Dark Side Of The Moon", and 7.08 "Time for A Wedding!" and 8.14 "Trial and Error", 11.17 "Red Meat", and 15.20 "Carry On". Along with 4.13, while they might or might not say something deeper or contradictory on a meta level, on a surface level, every single one of these episodes sows the narrative that Dean is needy and clingy and needs Sam more than Sam needs him—something I intensely disagree with for a multitude of reasons... but I'll just link this. Many of these episodes also follow a surface level narrative of "normal life obsessed Sam" (and here I'll link my entire #sam the hunter tag and #in which sam is not a helpless little waif with his hands cast over his eyes being carried along by the tides of the immutable sea). When I look at this episode list, I also don't find it at all difficult to believe that Dabb wanted Dean to die in the finale. There is nothing at all shocking about that. And yes—you can argue he's pointing to the opposite—that this fate should be subverted and that's what makes 15.20 the dark ending, but I think you can just as easily argue that yes it's a dark ending and yes Dabb has always dreamed of this ending. A "tragic" ending where Dean dies and Sam goes on to have a white picket fence... while also leaving you little hints along the way that maybe it's all a big ruse because how could he not? He never has to explain anything. Someone else will pick up the story and make it make sense. He's already fucked off to piss all over fans of Resident Evil.

That said, when I mention what I feel is off character work, I mainly mention Dabb/Loflin episodes from my recent rewatch, which suffer from the two of them being newer to the series (coming onto the writing team in season 4) and also leave questions about whether, perhaps, they had conflicting ideas about characterization. Was Dabb the one penning these lines? Was it Loflin? Was it both? Did they trade out who took the lead? I didn't really say anything negative about "Sam, Interrupted" or "Jump the Shark"... (though "Sam, Interrupted" also calls Dean "codependent") who wrote those? Is it possible that the messiness of the meta comes down to two writers at war? I have to imagine though, that they got along, or else they wouldn't have written together for four fucking years. If they didn't get along...? My mind always comes back to their first solo episodes, right after splitting up in season 8. Dabb's first solo episode is "Hunteri Heroici"—the only episode to lend any perspective to season 8 Sam's reasons for abandoning everyone—paralleling him checking out with Fred's catatonia, which Sam has to save Fred from. It is the only episode that lends Sam sympathy in the early part of the season. He follows it up with "Trial and Error"—where Sam promises to save Dean from suicidal thoughts. Loflin's first solo episode is what I would regard as the most scathing solo episode commentary on Sam in the entire series—"Citizen Fang". Then he writes again right after Dabb's "Trial and Error"—penning "Remember The Titans" where Sam tells Dean to get over the promise Sam so passionately made in Dabb's episode and face reality.

This is why we're exploring this rewatch.

DISCLAIMER: Now I just devolve into bitching because I'm writing at 3AM. Proceed at your own risk.

It seems like these days, everyone demands an explanation for disliking Dabb (something about some sort of destiel battle... I don't know what that flamewar is and I don't give a damn tbqh.) I guess I've just been wondering what's actually so great about him. Because it feels like people have overcorrected to basically acting like he's god's greatest gift to mankind. People point to how meta his episodes can be, but I think other writers easily best him on that front on multiple occasions (particularly enjoyed by me so far on this rewatch: 3.10 "Dream A Little Dream Of Me", 4.04 "Monster Movie", 4.12 "Criss Angel Is A Douchebag"), and without leaving their meaning so up in the air that you don't even know what the hell they were actually trying to tell you because there are two different completely incongruous narratives you could just as justifiably claim were the intended one. Some people may find that duality praise-worthy. I don't. I find it sloppy—and when I add in mediocre character work, I just land on the side of him being, at the very best, mid.

Add him in as showrunner, you have... at least two of my least favorite seasons (13 and 15). Add that he's a one-trick pony in terms of the Sam and Dean conflicts mentioned above that he continuously rehashes rather than come up with anything new or fresh, and the same conflicts between Dean and Cas being played out until they both die (shut UP I'm not talking about canon destiel as the alternative—I am literally just asking for more diverse conflicts). I can't say I understand what I''m supposed to find so impressive.

(Before anyone so much as breathes this near me, Berens also sucks and I am going to tear off your nose hairs if you start bringing him up as if disliking Dabb for some reason means wearing rose colored glasses about Berens. Berens can eat a whole cactus raw over "The Trap" alone.)

[rius-cave]

Yeah I actually saw a couple minutes later that you answered the same question, I felt a lil dumb for not checking earlier lol

Okay so there's indeed no implication in Hazbin that Adam didn't eat the apple. For me personally it was like, when we met him for the first time and learned that he's THE Adam, I was so confused for a moment and just looked like wait a minute how is he an ANGEL?? Because in my mind it was so evident that original sin = Hell or purgatory at best, but not Heaven?? So yeah I was confused, then I heard about the theory and ig it just helped me find the logic I was searching for lol. Adam said stuff like "I've never made a mistake in my fucking life" which CAN BE interpreted as "I've never sinned" (although Adam likes to exaggerate we know he's no saint lol) Then I also saw someone explaining how it would make sense that Adam didn't eat the fruit and that's why he can't really comprehend right and wrong like others do. He doesn't really act like we'd expect from an angel (be it the cussing or the lack of manners) and he seems pretty narrow-minded, as if he was seeing everything black and white. Like the extermination, he doesn't think "murder is bad", he seemingly rather sees it as "they are sinners = bad people, deserve to die". He doesn't seem to feel quilt? Which means he probably firmly believes that he's doing nothing wrong. He seemingly just lives by what Heaven itself considers right or wrong (sinners are bad, winners are good, angels don't make mistakes etc.) I sadly don't have the source, I think I saw it on tiktok but idk who made it :(

Either way the fact that we didn't meet any other characters like Eve or Adam's children in Heaven also made the theory make more sense, so when they released Abel it kinda ruined it for me lmao

I didn't mean to make it sound like the show implies it, I don't mean to spread misinformation, so sorry if it was confusing!!

No apologies needed, nonny! I didn't think you were implying it was canon or anything, you're not the first person I see with that theory so I decided to ask haha

Hmm, I see. Very interesting, I think my Christian past is the issue here LOL. I was christian for a time, and christians don't believe in purgatory or an "original sin" as it's often thought of. The original sin was just as much of a sin as any other and Adam could've been forgiven for it just like any other sin. In fact, I'd say that most christians would believe that Adam is, in fact, in Heaven.

The part about him becoming an Angel is weird because, yeah humans turning into angels is not really biblical? (From my own branch of Christianity at least!) But I honestly just thought that it meant that Adam was promoted or something like that, or that winners turning into angels wasn't a weird thing just like sinners are also called demons in hellaverse.

I suppose him not knowing what's "good or evil" and just going by what Heaven says would be explained by him never eating the apple, though personally I wouldn't call that proof either, since to me, Adam doesn't act like he doesn't KNOW, just that his sense of morality was fucked up because of his own bad character/entitlement/etc etc, and not because of a lack of understanding what is good or evil, he just purposefully believes what's more convenient to him lol.

This isn't to say it's not a valid theory, ofc, I think I still don't really buy it outside of it being speculation with no real evidence, but it's definitely an interesting theory nonetheless!

[nattikay]

"Neytiri is such a hypocrite! She hates Spider for being human but Jake is a human too!!!" except that Jake's and Spider's situations and how they relate to Neytiri's are completely different though

Neytiri taught Na'vi culture to Jake personally and was there to watch first-hand as his perspective changed and he gradually fell in love with Pandora and the Omatikaya people. And being able to watch that process, having a level of personal investment in it as his teacher, was a major factor in her falling in love with him in the first place.

Neytiri didn't simply "fall in love with a human", not really. She fell in love with a human who in her eyes became Na'vi, and that part is significant.

I don't think Neytiri really views Jake as a human, not anymore. Though she knew it existed, she never actually saw Jake's human body until the final battle in A1--well after she'd already fully established her relationship with him in his avatar body--and even after that she probably didn't spend much time with him in human form because he permanently transferred to his avatar body shortly thereafter. She's still aware that he was born human of course, but as of the end of A1, despite the eyebrows and extra fingers, Jake is throughly Na'vi as far as Neytiri is concerned, and she watched him get there every step of the way.

She just doesn't have that experience with Spider (at least, not yet--we'll come back to that).

"Well, she SHOULD'VE taught Spider like she taught Jake!! Why didn't she??!"

Why should she?

Remember that she wasn't particularly jazzed about teaching Jake at first either. She didn't volunteer for the position, she only did it because Mo'at explicitly ordered her to. No one's assigned her to teach Spider like that. She's got enough to do during the day with her regular clan duties and raising her own four children; why, exactly, should we expect her to go way out of her way to take enough special interest in Spider, someone whose presence she's kinda iffy about to begin with, to teach him the ins and outs of Na'vi culture like she did for Jake?

"Well, she shouldn't have been iffy with his presence at all!! That's not fair!"

Ok, let's back up a bit. Hear me out before you start yelling.

Neytiri has been through a ridiculous amount of serious traumas in her life, most if not all of which have come at the hands of humans. She witnessed/experienced firsthand:

her sister getting shot and killed.

the Tree of Voices getting bulldozed, an incredible sacred location to her culture where she and other clan members could come to commune with their ancestors, including her now-dead sister.

her ancestral home being brutally destroyed, killing many more of her clanmates in the process.

her father dying in the aftermath of the destruction.

Seze, meant to be a lifelong partnership, getting shot and killed while Neytiri was connected through tsaheylu, meaning she probably experienced not only the heartache of loosing her ikran companion but also the physical pain of the bullet

...yeah, is it really any wonder she feels kinda iffy about humans? And Spider specifically has the added factor of being the son of not just any random human solider but of Quaritch, whom Neytiri had personal beef with.

Now, is it fair to Spider to be judged for the sins of his father and/or species? Of course not. Spider is an innocent party, and has done nothing wrong.

But is it unreasonable, based on everything she's been through, for Neytiri to look at Spider and be reminded of Quaritch etc., and to be uncomfortable with that? Not really, I don't think, and if we could stop demonizing her for it that'd be great.

No, Spider does not "deserve" Neytiri disliking him. But expecting Neytiri to quickly, nigh-magically just get over all of her human-inflicted trauma in order to love or even like Spider right away is a lot.

Key words: right away. Because guys, I think we're forgetting here that these character's stories are not over yet. We're on movie 2 out of 5. That's not even HALFWAY through the story!!

Yes, Neytiri still has issues she needs to work through, areas where she still needs to grow--of COURSE she does, because her story is not over. If she, or the other characters, were already perfect, there would be no story left to tell--or at least, not a very interesting one. Characters need room to grow, otherwise they become boring (isn't that the whole problem with the dreaded "Mary Sue"?)

Same with Spider, his story is not over yet. He and Neytiri still have PLENTY of time to work things out and develop their relationship, among other things, however they need to.

And I do think that their relationship is something that will be explored and resolved by the end. Said resolution might not come until A5, but I think it will come.

Overall I just don't really think it's fair to vilify Neytiri simply because that resolution didn't happen in Spider's childhood--y'know, before the real meat of the story even got started. Have some patience, friends.

tl;dr in a vacuum is Neytiri "in the right" for disliking Spider based on his ancestry? No, of course not. But is she a bad person for struggling to like/trust humans in general after all the very real and very serious traumas she's experienced? Also no. Is it something she needs to work on, sure--but give it time, and let's see how the story develops.

[thotsforvillainrights]

Shigaraki smut headcanons? Sorry if you've already done this, I just love crusty boi. (　＾ω＾)

(You're fine, Anon! It's one of those cases where it FEELS like it's been done but probably hasn't lol. I went and checked the new and old masterlist and couldn't find anything. Now's my chance to add it to the collection ^_^)

~Shigaraki Smut Headcanons~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up|drabble

-Really would like to say he's a freak in bed but I don't think he's all that wild...at least not at first. I feel like he has a lot of love to give when he opens himself up for it. There's not really much lust between the two of you at first (not on his end at least). His walls are up really high and for a while he starts to feel really guilty about developing feelings for you. He's not sure if he deserves to have love given to him, or to give love to others. All his life he's been focused on what he hates and not enough on what he could love. When you come along, he's filled with anger at the fact you were able to get to him so easily.

-He can't deny any longer that he has feelings for you. When you try to reciprocate these feelings then it becomes complex. He's not letting you in as easily. He prays at night that you give up on him, that you leave for your own good. At the same time he wants to open himself up to you but he just doesn't know how. When he finally decides to let himself go and feel for once in his life, it becomes likely the most beautiful and simultaneously terrifying experience he's had. When you say you love him, it's invigorating. When you touch him...touch his skin of all people, he feels special. He feels confused all at the same time. Why would you chose him?

-He's scared at first to talk about you, to feel pride out loud. he's scared he'll somehow jinx things and that he'll wind up hurting or even worse is that he'll wind up hurting you instead. It's not just the mental hurt he's worried about either. It's the pysical hurt and the crushing idea that he might slip up and you'll be gone forever. Even with gloves as a precaution, he's still not up to the idea of touching you. Why should he when he doesn't deserve to touch you anyway? A demon with an angel like you? What a cruel and disgusting joke. Don't you know if he were to mess up then you'd be nothing more than a pile of ash and memories? You don't care. You want his touch, his hugs and kisses. And just like always, he's weak to deny you. He gives up and cautiously inches into the next phase of your relationship.

-When the sex finally comes into play, he feels a bit overwhelmed. Understandably you should come to expect him not lasting very long for the first few times. Can you blame him? You're something akin to a sinful pool of gold and he's strong enough to hold back. He's focusing all his energy on making you feel good, keeping a handle on his quirk, and trying not to hurt you all at the same time. Your sex brings fireworks out. His vision gets spotty once before and leave him wondering if he might pass out. He's breathless, his skin damp with sweat and his legs weak...shaking from your activities together. He's quiet but you can still hear him making sound just for you. It's all for you.

-Because he won't focus on his own pleasure, you end up taking the reigns in that department. It takes some time for him to settle down and accept that you actually WANT to make him feel good instead. Of course you do, why wouldn't you want to return the favor? He can't grasp the concept at first. That's okay, he didn't need to think too hard. Just lay back and let you handle it yes?

-His drive doesn't seem to be that high, nor too low. If anything, he's a perfect in-between, matching your pace perfectly. He's moldable like clay for you. He'll fold and bend at your will but he also remains understanding of his own needs and preferences as well. I think maybe later on in the relationship you can see him getting a little rougher in bed. Of course at your request, he learns the ins and outs of it. Shigaraki after gaining a power-up shows a considerable difference in the ways he goes about things but that's a story for a different time.

[xxlady-lunaxx]

What did I do..? | {KokuZan}

Theme: Angst

Note: Ignore the picture i can't find any kokuzan ones ;-;

TW: suicide-

ALSO if anything doesn't make sense it's bc i was too lazy to write out the AU so, sorry..

Reincarnated everyone! (basically it's modern AU; reincarnated hhahahoksmvfewoifkmsssddddffffffffuck.)

As a child, Muzan was very easily manipulated. He believed everyone deserved second chances and said, whenever someone did something they shouldn't have—no matter how drastic the consequences—that everybody made mistakes. Which, as you can see, is quite a naïve way of thinking when it comes to reality. 

What's more, Muzan tried to be very helpful. No matter what anyone asked, it was almost guarenteed to be that he would say yes. 

You could ask him to do the most far-fetched thing that any sane person would say they couldn't do and he would most likely say, "I'll do my best to achieve that for you."

So, he was often—very often—asked to do things for others. And he let them, not seeing anything bad about it. He only saw that he was making it easier for others to live and so he continued on doing this.

The only exception to his agreeing was his friend—more specifically Michikatsu, Douma, Akaza, Hantengu and his many brothers, Gyokko, Gyutaro, Daki, Nakime and Kaigaku. They were the some of the only people who cared—truly—about Muzan and who constantly protected him as much as they could from people who tried to use him to their own will. 

Muzan didn't notice any of this though. But he did know that they were people who would stick by him no matter what—something he was absolutely grateful for and told them everyday. 

Michikatsu—also known as Kokushibo within their circle of friends—being the eldest always treated all of them as his younger siblings, telling them to do this and that and making sure they were intact and alright. 

All but Muzan whom he treated more as a very close 'friend.' 

Everybody else could clearly see the favortism written all over Muzan's face whenever Kokushibo was around, and they let it be. 

Muzan didn't notice that either, however.  

Now, as the time went on, things began to change. 

True, Muzan had never been in the center of attention for selfless reasons and had always only been because people wanted to take advantage of him, but now a rumour had started passing by and Muzan started getting dirty looks from people he didn't even know.

Muzan grew scared to be outside at all as someone would hiss at him that he was a horrible man, that he'd done nothing but bad. 

He didn't understand.

And neither did his friends because they had never known Muzan to do anything bad. 

One day, one particular person had gone up to Muzan. She looked stern and very mad, dragging two other women with her. 

"Do you remember me, Kibutsuji?" she said, glaring into his eyes. She was shorter than him, looking to be almost 5 feet whilst Muzan was at 5"6 at around the age of 16. 

"No...?" he said uncertainly. 

The girl then made one of the other people stand in front of him. They looked to be siblings, this new woman appeared to be older. She had pink eyes that Muzan decided would probably looking pretty if it weren't for the fact that she was looking at him as if he was going to kill her. 

"What about her? Do you remember her? This is my sister Kanae," the first girl said, peeking from around Kanae's shoulder. "You and your little Uppermoon friends killed her." 

Muzan looked around for some help but his friends were out somewhere and all around them were only people whispering and glaring at him. "She's alive though..." he pointed out, averting his eyes. What were they talking about?

"Oh really," the girl said. "Listen, both of us were Hashira in our past lives. Both of us died from the same demon. From the same demon you created. You had millions of people killed just so you could be immortal!!" She placed a hand on her hip, her eyes searing into his head. "You are a monster. You deserve to go to hell." 

The last girl who hadn't been been introduced was fidgeting with a coin, but at this she slipped around the other two and said, her voice both equally quiet and angry, "I hope you life is it's own hell for all you ever did to all of us."

Muzan backed away against the wall. "I didn't do that! I... don't know what you're talking about! I swear! You have got me mixed up!!" he said, desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. He'd only ever helped people! What did they mean?

"Hmm, maybe you've got it all mixed up," the first girl said, letting her hair down and showing him her clip which was in the shape of a butterfly. "Look at this. And go find your blond friend—Douma. Tell him if butterflies have any sort of significance to him. I'm sure they do because you turned him into a demon. And then you let him go and eat so, so many humans. The butterfly should be a reminder to him of who killed him." 

Muzan blinked. "Douma? Douma would never do that! He's very kind!" he insisted, crossing his arms. They could talk bad about him all they wanted but now about his friends!! 

"Hmm, kind? Not a word I think of when I think of him. But maybe he was. Maybe he was kind and you turned him to the opposite," the girl said, giving him a cruel smile before stalking away, her hands clasped around the two other girls'. 

The whispers around him grew and someone shouted, "I heard he was a cannibal!!"

Muzan shook his head. "I wasn't! I'm not!"

"My grandfather said his mother's father's mother had fought one of his demons!"

"I don't have demons," Muzan pleaded. 

"I heard he called himself a demon king," someone else said. 

The people seemed to rise up all at once, shouting incoherent threats to him.

They closed in on him and Muzan cowered, feeling terrified. What if he had done all of that? People were to be trusted and he knew that they wouldn't lie about this, right? They must be telling the truth... What if he was such a horrible person after all?

A hand clasped around his wrist and he looked up, dread filling him for a split second. But then Kokushibo's familiar face met his gaze and he stood, being dragged out of the crowd quickly.

"Muzan!!" Kokushibo called back between quick breaths as they ran off. "Are you okay?"

Muzan thought for a moment as they ran and didn't answer until they stop. "Do you think I'm a horrible person like they said I am?" he asked, his voice meek.

Kokushibo narrowed his eyes. "Do I think?" he asked, sounding furious.

Muzan closed his eyes, scared of a reaction. He'd never felt so small before.

"Of course I don't!! You're my best friend! You would never do all that shit!" Kokushibo said.

Muzan opened his eyes to see his friend looking worried and exasperated. "You... don't think so?"

"No!! And even if all what they said is true, it's definitely not about you. They probably got the wrong person." Kokushibo sighed, hugging him tightly. "You worry me, Muzan. Maybe you should just stay at home."

Muzan's cheeks flushed at the physical contact—lately, something about Michikatsu had been making him quite... happy. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice muffled by Kokushibo's shoulder.

"Anytime. Want to go to the library? No one's allowed to shout there so we can have some peace and quiet," Kokushibo said, grinning.

Muzan nodded. "Okay."

~~~

At the library, Kokushibo started roaming the shelves looking for books he might want to read.

Muzan, on the other hand, couldn't get his mind over what had happened earlier. About everyone shouting at him, that is. Not with... with Kokushibo.

He immediately shook his head. No thinking about that now. 

He searched through the rows of books until he saw the sign titled, "History."

Here he might find some answers. If he'd done something like this before and had caused people to react like that there must be even a little information about it somewhere here.

After searching through the books, finding a lot of things about everything he didn't want to know about, he found a book with a paper taped onto it that said, in hastily written letters, "May be proclaimed as History and not Historical Fiction." which was interesting enough for Muzan and he quickly took out the book.

He sat down on the floor, not really caring about anything, as he opened the book.

On the spine of the book cover, there were the words, "Demon Slayer" on it, along with the name of the author. (Koyoharu Gotouge?!)

There was a little information over the book and how it was supposedly written based off the character 'Tanjiro' who had actually been real but how the editor had said it must've been simply fiction. It said other things about the author as well that Muzan decided to simply ignore.

He opened the first page, noting that it was a chapter book—quite large as well. He flipped through a couple pages, stopping quite suddenly when he saw a picture somewhere. He went back and nearly gasped as the picture was of a man that looked... almost exactly like him. There were words under it saying it was an illustration of... Muzan Kibutsuji.

He turned his gaze to the words and skimmed the page in a panic.

And there he was, Muzan Kibutsuji. It had to be him. His scent was overly powering and bringing in a deep aura that made me shake from deep in my bones. I lunged forward, grabbing his arm as I shouted, "Muzan Kibutsuji!"

Muzan turned around and his piercing red eyes glared at me for half a second. But then he turned fully and I saw he was carrying a child. A little girl. A human girl. "Dear? What's this about?" a woman asked, a hand on Muzan's shoulder as she peeked around him.

Two humans. They were both humans, I just knew it. But he... he was a demon. There was no mistakening the smell he had, was he... He was hiding amongst the humans.

(Ermmmm pretend this is the part of Asakusa when Tanjiro first meets Muzan LMAO- I didn't know how to write it since kny is a manga :'>)

Muzan's eyes lingered on his name for a minute. He was real, no? This was real.

He skipped more pages towards the end and saw his name again. In this part, he appeared to be fighting the Main Character and the people named 'Hashira.' 

Hashira.

Wasn't that what the girl from earlier had said?

Standing suddenly, Muzan held the book tightly to his chest and walked as quickly as he could, his eyes searching for Kokushibo.

When he found him, he said, his voice low and scared, "Koku... I'm a villain."

Kokushibo gave him a perplexed look as Muzan handed him the book. "What? Please don't tell me the people's words have gotten into your head. You're not a villain, you're-"

Muzan didn't necessarily know if he wanted to know the end of the sentence or not and his cheeks flushed as he said hurridly, "Just read some of this."

Kokushibo opened the book at random, still looking confused. He looked down at the page and read a couple words before he looked up at Muzan, his eyes wide. "No, uhm. I'm sure it's just a coincidence it's your name," he said, looking very much concerned.

"It's not!! It's me! There are some pictures in this as well, see?" Muzan said, flipping a couple pages and pointing to a picture of himself transforming into what appeared to be him as a child into an adult. "It's me."

Kokushibo stared at it for a long while, then said, "Oh."

"It's me," he repeated. "Koku... everything anyone had said is true. It's all true. I'm... a monster."

Kokushibo looked up at that, putting the book aside. "Listen, you're not a monster, okay? You're Muzan, the boy who helps everyone even when he shouldn't! You're everything but what they've said. You're not whatever this book is lying about," he insisted, his hands clasped around Muzan's shoulders. 

"But I-" 

"I won't accept any 'but's' when they're not true at all!" Kokushibo interrupted. "Now, clearly the library isn't where we should be. We can go home now, I'll make you some food."

~~~

Muzan's eyes traced Kokushibo's actions as he cooked. He wondered what it would be like for his friend to cook for him as a boyfrie- 

No, no, they could never date. Not when Kokushibo was already getting enough hate as it was. 

Muzan sighed, leaning his head on his arms.

"You alright?" Kokushibo asked, placing a bowl of ramen on the table.

"I'm fine," Muzan mumbled, picking up the spoon he was handed. "Thanks."

Kokushibo nodded and sat across from him. 

They ate in silence for a while, both consumed in their thoughts.

As Muzan ate, he stared at the noodles in his bowl intently. He wondered if anything would be as it used to be again. He really wished it could be. He really hated this. Hated it too much and wanted to badly for it to be over. Not for himself, no that would be selfish of him, rather for his friends. And his family. He knew it wasn't easy for them either, constantly trying to help him when they should just let him die. It wasn't like he'd been a good person anyways. He had been horrible. He'd killed so many people just so he could be immortal? Wow. 

The door opened suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts. 

Kaigaku strode in followed by Gyutaro, both looking rather beaten up but wearing triumphant smiles on their faces.

Kokushibo and Muzan stood at the same time and rushed over to them, concerned. 

"What happened?" Kokushibo asked as Kaigaku batted his worried hand away.

"Nothing, nothing. We were only teaching some people talking bad about Muzan here a lesson," Kaigaku said, swerving around them and plopping onto Muzan's chair. "Hey, you finishing this? Can I have it? I'm starving."

Muzan nodded slowly, losing his appetite. "You shouldn't be getting into fights deliberately..." he fussed. "Especially for me."

Gyutaro waved him off. "It's fine, they're liars anyways," he said, grinning and stealing Kokushibo's bowl, grabbing a new spoon. 

"Hey, that's mine!!" Kokushibo whined. 

"They're not liars," Muzan mumbled as Kokushibo went to chase Gyutaro.

The other three froze and stared at him. "What?" they asked, almost simutaneously. 

"They're not liars," he repeated. "It's all true, all what they said."

Kaigaku raised an eyebrow. "Is this your attempt to convince us that we shouldn't be friends with you because it'll cause trouble for us?" he asked, his spoon raised half way to his mouth.

Actually, that was what he was trying to do.

Muzan hesitated.

Kaigaku sighed, dropping his spoon and splashing some of the soup onto the table. "Drop that, it's seriously annoying. And you'd have to kill me to make me stop being your friend," he said. 

The word kill reverberated(?..) in Muzan's mind and he flinched. "But that's just it! I killed so many people in my past." 

Gyutaro gave him a look. "They're lying."

"They're not," Muzan whispered. He looked up, his eyes glazing over the worried faces of his friends. They didn't deserve having to deal with im. They deserved better. "You guys can go home... Take the food if you want. I'll see you later," he said, basically dismissing them.

Fuck, if he was going to be that rude he was better off dead anyways. 

Muzan didn't miss the way they looked at each other with worried gazes before nodding and getting ready to leave.

Gyutaro and Kaigaku filed out the door but Kokushibo stayed back. 

"Hey, uhm... Please don't do anything reckless, Muzan. If you need to speak to someone, I'm only one call away. I'll be here if you need me to be," he murmured, hugging Muzan tightly before closing the front door behind him.

And then Muzan was alone, feeling like he could feel the imprint of Kokushibo's arms around him still. He wished Kokushibo hadn't left. But it was better if he had, really.

Making up his mind, Muzan went up to his room and got his notebook and a pencil.

He wrote down quickly, writing a letter to each of his friends and his family. Once he finished, he read them all through, making sure that he hadn't made any mistakes and that he'd listed enough things to show that he did appreciate every little part of them.

He signed them all and folded them up into makeshift envelopes, taping them all shut. 

He went and slumped onto his bed, burying his face into his pillow. He would deliver them tomorrow.

~~~

The next day, as he'd promised himself, he went to his friend's houses, handing them the letter and telling them to read it in a few days time—his birthday, actually. 

They didn't really think much of it, especially since Kokushibo was the only one who knew his birthday and he probably didn't remember anyways. 

Muzan wouldn't have minded that, after all it didn't matter whether or not Kokushibo remembered.

By the time he opened the letter, it would be too late.

~~~

The next few days passed rather quickly and Muzan found himself in a sort of daze as he continued on. He was waiting for the last day, the day he could finally let his friends live in peace.

He found his most battered clothes—deciding his better ones could be given to people who needed them. He didn't need to wear his best clothes if he would just be wasting them by dying in them. 

He went out walking, ignoring all the stares he recieved. He had left a letter on his bed in case anyone bothered to look there. Solely a letter of thanks to his family—he'd already written them letters individually but he'd felt it wasn't enough.

It was early morning when he'd set out and so most people were asleep, although the occasional person was around. But when he finally arrived, the sun was already half way up.

He had to hurry, he didn't want them to read the letters before it was true.

He waded into the water, trembling at the coldness that hit his skin. 

No. He had no right to be cold when he'd made people suffer before. 

He clenched his teeth together and continued into the water, nearly tripping several times before he made it to the point that the water nearly reached his mouth. He held his head up high and bounded forward cautiously.

The water rose to his mouth and he could barely keep it from his nose as he started treading water, keeping himself upright.

He turned back to the town he'd grown up in, bobbing up long enough to murmur, "I'm sorry," before he closed his eyes and mouth, slipping under the water.

The cool water slipped around Muzan and he could feel it soaking into his body. He gave himself a couple seconds to change his mind before he let out a breath and opened his mouth, letting the water flow into his nose as well.

He resisted the urge to go back up, though it pained him to. He'd chosen this specifically because it would be the least messy—his body would just float out into the ocean or sink or something, and probably disintigrate eventually—and because it would still be painful to himself. He deserved more pain but he didn't know how else he'd do it since he wasn't particularily strong. Not now. 

He used to be. And he deserved every form of torture he'd ensued(the fact that i don't rlly know what this word is-) over everyone... and more.

And so, as Muzan felt himself slipping out of consciousness as the water flowed into him, he thought of everyone he ever knew—whether the experiences with them were pleasant or not—and thanked them. He apologized over and over as he slipped away from the world of the living.

~~~

Kokushibo was smiling to himself as he ate his breakfast, excited for today.

"Why are you so happy?" Yoriichi asked skeptically. 

He said nothing and continued eating, wondering how he might ask out Muzan.

He'd been planning for some time now and had decided, finally, to ask him out. Especially since it was Muzan's birthday. 

He felt that he wanted him to have the best day today since every other day had been absolute shit. And besides, he figured Muzan would say yes. He'd noticed him blushing around him so constantly. 

Yoriichi leaned on the table, looking annoyed. "By the way, are you going to open that letter Kibutsuji gave you? I heard he gave them to all of his friends," he commented, nodding to himself. "I overheard him telling you to open it today. Or are you smiling because of the letter?"

Kokushibo hadn't, in fact, opened it yet. He'd actually kinda forgotten about it in all his plans. "Right!" he said, abandoning his breakfast going back to his room.

Yoriichi sighed and watched him run upstairs. "He's in love, isn't he," he said to himself, grumbling.

Kokushibo opened the letter cautiously, noting how the paper looked a bit smudged with ink.

His eyes landed on the first words, smiling to himself as he was met with Muzan's handwriting. Willing himself to read it slowly and not only skim through it, he started down the letter, his smile wavering on his face for a while. But as he reached the middle of the paper, it slowly slipped away forming a frown in it's place. The frown deepened to a look of sheer horror and he dropped the letter as his eyes consumed the last word. 

He turned abruptly and ran back down, ignoring Yoriichi's questioning looks as he harshly pulled on his shoes and ran out the door in a panic.

Yoriichi glared at him. "What now? Has he gone to confess his love to him?" he said, sighing.

He went upstairs and picked up the letter which looked a bit crumpled at the bottom. He skimmed through it then placed it on the table. "Muzan is a fucking idiot," he said, following his brother's tracks downstairs and out the door.

~~~

Kokushibo knocked furiously at Muzan's door and the fact of a devestated woman met his. She was Muzan's mother. 

"Is... Muzan...?" Kokushibo whispered, dread swimming in his stomach.

She looked down. "He's... I think he left home early. He left a note on his bed... And he gave us each one a couple days ago," she mumbled, lifting a paper. It clearly said something different than Kokushibo's but he figured it had some sort of thanks and then apologies and then explanations as he glanced at it. 

His face fell and his arms wrapped around his stomach. "He's dead?" he said, his voice coming out cracked.

Muzan's mother flinched at that but Kokushibo was too preocupied to notice. Muzan was dead.

A hand was placed on his shoulder and he turned, numb inside.

Yoriichi gave the woman an apologetic look. "I'm sorry for you loss, Mrs.Kibutsuji. I'll... take my brother now," he said pulling Kokushibo away.

~~~

Kokushibo found himself in a park sitting next to Yoriichi who was glaring at the ground.

"Yorii?" he said hoarsely. 

Yoriichi glanced at him. "Hm?"

"Why did he die?"

He sighed. "He was worrying too much about you, I guess."

"But why? He had only to worry about himself! He didn't have to worry about me—us—anyone but himself! He was getting the threats. He was getting all of the hate and yet... he did this for us?? He didn't say once in the whole letter that he died because he couldn't handle it for himself anymore! He said it all because he was worried about the lashback on us!! He was worried about us when he should've worried about himself!!" Kokushibo spat, glaring at the ground. 

"Michi, he was a selfless fuck in this time. He used to be... otherwise, but he changed, I suppose." Yoriichi looked at his brother with a look of pity that had nothing to do with Muzan. "But he's gone and you can't change that or the reason for it."

"No!! He can't have died!!" Kokushibo looked up. "I can't let him die!" he decided, standing abruptly.

Yoriichi stood as well and his voice came out more of a command, "Kokushibo. I want you to sit down."

At the nickname—the name Michikatsu had heard most of from Muzan, he felt himself break. He sat down and Yoriichi stood in front of him with a stern look. 

"He's gone and you cannot change that. You can't change the fact that he was who he was. I need you to think about it. Just accept it. I don't care how hard it will be, but you have to accept it. You'll just pain yourself more if you don't." Yoriichi's eyes were narrowed in a glare but when his brother started to cry, his gaze softened. He wrapped his arms around MIchikatsu, feeling that he couldn't bear him to cry over so dead person. 

Michikatsu sobbed into Yoriichi's hug, letting himself pour out. "I was going to tell him I loved him," he said between hiccups. "I was... I was going to..." 

"Shh," Yoriichi murmured, "don't talk until you're ready."

And it was quite a few minutes until he was ready, but when he was, he rubbed at his eyes and looked up at his brother. 

"Today was his birthday," Michikatsu mumbled. "He... on his birthday. I'm sure he did that on purpose."

Yoriichi gave him a sympathetic look. "Perhaps he did. But we will never know. Why don't you... invite your friends over to our house? I'm sure they'll need some help through this as much as you do. Take yourselves through the process together, at least," he suggested.

Michikatsu had never known his brother to give Muzan any sort of proper acknowledgement and at that, he was surprised. But he nodded and stood, pretending not to notice all the people around them staring.

"Alright... Will you help me call them?" 

Yoriichi nodded. "Of course."

~~~

Dear Koku,

Or Michikatsu? Kokushibo? What do I call you? 

I always wanted to call you my lover.

I know it's quite sudden, but I really love you. I have hoped against hope that one day I could tell you. But I couldn't tell you when everybody was hating you for being my friend—and I feared their reaction if you were dating me. If you did like me, of course. 

But there was a reason I said nothing, and I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable knowing I've been crushing on you for a while now though you may not like me in that way at all.

I just found myself so deeply in love with you all the time and you were most likely one of the main reasons I've been able to make it quite so far in my life. 

I always loved how you were. How you act, how you talk, how you walk... everything. You were always just so beautiful to me. I'm sure others see you like this as well. How could they miss such and amazing person? 

I adore you with all my heart and my being and my mind. I want to stay here with you forever but I know that would only bring pain to you for being seen with me. I know you don't want to be targetted for knowing me as much as I don't want you to be hated on because I love you.

Yes... I love you. Too much for my heart to handle sometimes. You make me so happy and I want to live so much longer with you by my side.

But I can't.

I can't live, Koku. I want you, and everyone else, to be content. If me being dead brings happiness to people, then why not give them a time to be happy? 

I know how much you'd blame yourself for this though it was purely my own decision, so I need you to know that everything you've done for me has made me ever the most happiest person alive. I need you to know that you're worth everything, every breath, every smile, every little moment. So please keep living for me. Please don't blame yourself.

Make a life you can live in happiness with me gone now. Make a life you can grow up as someone known as the amazing Koku and not the Person Who Made Friends with Kibutsuji. Please be happy for... for anything you love. 

You're very dear to me, and I love you, Kokushibo. I love you so, so much. 

I promise to think of you till the very end.  

You may not see me anymore, but I promise that I'll be watching you. I'll make sure your life goes as heavenly as possible because you are heaven. You're the greatest person to exist. 

I love you, Michikatsu Tsugikuni.

I love you.

In hopes of your well being and greatest happiness, Muzan Kibutsuji.

{Word count: 4825}

I thought I had not motivation

Ig i lied to myself (my motivation always tends to come when i have to finish my hw the same day!!)

ngl this was both depressing to write and fun

and i hate it but i love it yk? 

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 37 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 2 | lesson 36 | lesson 38

the fact that they're instantly seen in their demon forms as soon as the lesson starts when they've been so comfortable outside of them, which to me is indicative of their acceptance of their new lives, is a punch to the gut

they're all willing to throw away everything they've worked for socially, risking their lives and their status to save the person they look up to the most, the one who brought them all together in the first place, their big brother. the man who blames himself for his brothers' willingness to follow him despite it being of their own volition, for his sister's death, and who'll probably blame himself for their inclination to save him; he doesn't understand their actions and insistence because he doesn't feel like he's done enough to deserve their devotion and their love after destroying and reshaping the only life they'd known

what if barbatos (nightbringer) intervened and had the brothers fall to the devildom instead of cocytus because he knew how important they were to this timeline? more on this here

me and mephisto be on the same wavelength fr

the brothers followed lucifer because they wanted to, not because he forced or deliberately convinced them to, but because he changed all of their lives for the better and continues to do so just by being the person he is. they love him as much as he loves them

lucifer's love for his brothers manifests in overprotectiveness and being secretive about his struggles, his insecurities, his imperfections, but also his pride in everything they have done and will continue to do as they grow and learn more about themselves

his brothers' love for him manifests in the way they constantly pester and annoy him, the way they stick up for him both when he's around and when he's out of earshot, the way they take after his best and worst traits, the way that they'd do anything for him, the way that they'd follow him to the ends of the earth even if it meant their own deaths and banishment

my frail weak heart 💔 big brother levi in action

levi and asmo, and i'm assuming the rest of the brothers, completely ignored what the unknown voice said about hating his brothers. they know it's not true from firsthand experience in his mindscape, and even if it were true, they still love him enough to try saving his life

i don't think satan ever hated his brothers, he hated that he didn't understand them, himself, and the world around him that he was unwillingly thrust into. if anything, either the unknown voice is blatantly lying, or the unknown voice is detecting self hatred and branding it as hatred towards lucifer since satan was born of lucifer's wrath and (maybe) the two wings he ripped off.

eye personally think the feathers on his boa are the feathers from lucifer's wings but maybe i'm reaching

maybe the unknown voice isn't just "detecting" anything or lingering on the past, but is a personification of what each brother believes the others think of them

satan thinks, or at least used to think, that his brothers thought he hated them, and he played into it in order to not get too attached, to not split up the family more, but he was proven wrong after they entered his mindscape

beel, on the other hand, not only did he literally betray the celeatial realm and forfeit his position by falling from grace, he thinks that his brothers, especially belphie, blame him for lilith's death. he was one of the strongest, if not the strongest soldier of the celestial realm, but was unable to save the very person the celestial war was started over, even after belphie indirectly told him to save lilith instead of him

realizing how rare big brother asmo moments are makes me vv sad. we get a glimpse of them every so often, like the tidbit about him painting everyone's nails and being the most welcoming and accommodating to satan, but since he's one of the youngest, it's rare to see him look out for the few that are younger than him since he's almost always being looked out for

i don't have to go into detail about how much i adore mammon and how much i love when the devs ACTUALLY let him act like a big brother for once bc i've done it a million times. however

do i wish it were more prominent in less dire situations? yes. but the rarity of the overt protectiveness also makes it that much more endearing when it does happen. as much as i love it when he's being a shithead to lucifer, he's also a really good big brother in his own right. as an older sibling myself, there's so many small things he says and does to and for his brothers that i can relate to, and there's a lot of things he does that remind me that he's still a younger sibling that relies on his big brother. i love him and his character sm you don't understand

this hurts so much. so much

theres no way that lucifer, with his status, didn't what would happen if they fell from grace, and that's part of the reason why he felt, and still feels, so guilty for the events and aftermath of the war. it's why he was crying in the nightbringer teaser photo on the website as he fell. he could handle falling from grace and suffering for eternity, at least as long as his brothers didn't suffer the same fate. now his greatest fears are being realized, and he can't do anything to stop them now that they've already followed in his footsteps and met the same fate as him

back to the nightbringer teasers, when we got character descriptions, we learned that lucifer asked raphael to fight on his side of the war. but he declined, which probably was both shocking ro but also expected by lucifer. he knew that what lucifer and his brothers wanted to fight for was just, but he couldnt push past what had been instilled in him for so long and fight against what he'd been taught was "right," or "just." and now, seeing lucifer in chains like this, he wonders if he really did pick the right side

simeon probably wishes he'd fallen, too. we know he was demoted to archangel after the war, probably because he helped lucifer and his brothers in secret while primarily fighting for his father's side

luke was too young to understand why anyone would go against their father, and he hated the very idea of evil. now he's realizing, in the worst way possible, that what he believed to be good wasn't truly as pure as he once thought

this lesson was so good but it's almost 3 am and i have class tomorrow 🫠 lesson 38 can wait

[initiumseries]

Hi,

I searched your blog but didn’t see anything, not sure if I’m using the wrong keywords.

I’m watching Angel for the first time and I’m wondering what your takes were on Spike being a champion and the whole Nina/Angel relationship.

Thanks for looking! I haven't talked too much about s5 because usually on a rewatch I'm sick of the show by season 3, but I've contemplated skipping s4 entirely or just watching episodes and then jumping to s5 to refresh me. But anyway, I never really had strong opinions about Nina and Angel. I think at most, I was glad we were finally no longer acting like sex was off the table for Angel, because it never was. Sex with Buffy is off the table and that's because, well, true love. So with Nina came the acknowledgment that there was not the same kind of feelings there and that was fine. Especially after the whole horrible Cordelia thing, it was a breath of fresh air at the time. I don't know if I'll still feel that way now, but I did at the time.

As for the Spike thing...well...hmm. Lol. I don't believe Spike earned his position as a Champion. I think that they made Spike a poor man's Angel and I think his character deserved better than that. Angel's soul was thrust upon him, sure, but he rose to the occasion when called. Spike, did not. Spike lamented his circumstances despite doing it to himself. He whined and self pitied and then was used against the side of good to kill potentials for the first because he was so weak willed. I don't think he did a single think in s7 BTVS to deserve being a champion other than sacrificing himself, which, honestly, isn't enough, because again, he didn't do that to save the world, he did that to save Buffy. Spike's motivations for being "good" have always been either, because he still got to kill (when he had the chip), and then eventually because it got him closer to Buffy. In Angel, s1-3, Angel is put through hell because he is still atoning, but Spike...just gets to be a Champion now? Lmao. He doesn't earn it, and it's insulting honestly. But I think shows struggle with characters changing while still maintaining their core personalities, because it requires a longterm goal and plan.

Consider Zuko's redemption arc. It's probably the best redemption arc ever done on television. But it's because from the very beginning, Zuko was not irredeemable. He struggled, but he received love, he was forced into situations that exposed him to the violence of the fire nation, and ended up on the receiving end of that brutality. He was stripped of his royal status and had to interact with every day people, seeing the scars of war. It fundamentally changed him as a person. And even then, when the time comes for him to make a big choice, he makes the wrong one. He chooses his home, his sister, his previous life, and Aang nearly dies for it. But he had idealized the palace, and when he returns, and his uncle refuses to speak to him, he feels shame and regret. He realizes he isn't the same person he was when he left. He finally makes the right choice, and seeks out the Gaang, and they don't accept him easily. When they do, it's because Zuko *acknowledges* how he hurt them and how he plans on doing better. And even after ALL that, he still has to win over Katara.

But Spike? Lmao. Spike gets a chip in his head - which on its own is hilarious and fun - but becomes exhausting after a while. He doesn't spend more time around the scoobies and begin to see value in what the scoobies are fighting for. He doesn't begin to realize all the fear and harm and damage demons do to humans. He doesn't even actually save anybody, he just kills demons because it's the only people he can kill. He creates the buffybot out of his obsession with Buffy, and she rewards him for it. He doesn't go out and save people on his own, he kills demons on his own. He doesn't begin a path to redemption and keep trying to do right. He manipulates Buffy into spending time together "fighting evil" to expose Riley and stands outside her house so long he leaves piles of cigarettes. When he keeps Joyce and Dawn safe, it's to impress Buffy. It's not really about Joyce and Dawn. Sure, he likes them, but if they weren't an extension of Buffy, he wouldn't care about them nearly as much. He has no path to redemption, no reckoning with who he used to be, no guilt even. With a soul he mocks Robin, and wears his dead mother's jacket. Angel was ANGUISHED over what he'd done before. Spike tries to rape Buffy, then gets a soul to punish her. He never truly apologizes or is forced to confront what he did to Buffy. The scoobies aren't even allowed to be mad at him over it, much less make him work for their forgiveness. Buffy just lets it all slide. Then he self immolates and he's a champion? Where's the path to goodness? Where's the redemption? Where's the amends? Angel has an entire episode dedicated to making amends. Spike? Lol.

So all that to say, I don't think him becoming a Champion is any more earned or deserved than I think it made sense for Cordelia to suddenly take Buffy's place cuz she got visions.

[hoverboards-and-dragons]

Charlie belongs in Heaven

While I don't think the plot will go in this Direction but it would be interesting

The smartest ploy Sera could try to pull is arguing that the only reason any of this conflict is happening is Charlie is in hell,

hell has been placatingly taking exterminations and using them as a fun opportunity to mix up the power structure for thousands of years, Lucifer doesn't care or has given up, the other princes don't have the will or power to challenge heaven

Charlie is out of place, she didn't earn damnation like sinners, she isn't like the other hellborn either

because she's an angel, and one that never 'chose' to fall, they aren't wrong about hell, she just not actually from hell

If she's accepted into Heaven, then the Seraphim doesn't have to deal with anymore of this redemption nonsense, and Charlie gets a home considered worthy of her efforts

that has to be worth the sacrifice of bending the System a little to Sera, to avoid it being shattered

Now you, dear reader, have no doubt poke many a hole in this line of logic because you are a very intelligent person

that's the fun part, Sera's final goal probably wouldn't make much sense

Charlie seems to take more after her demon Heritage, she probably doesn't really want to leave hell behind, she takes after the dreamer Quality that got her dad fucked over and her mom's actual drive and determination hell barely contains her Heaven would crumble trying, where the fuck would she even go in the hierarchy

but it would also take the heat off the idea of redeeming sinners with this whole new question, create a separation between Charlie and the rest of hell by accepting her as an Us, an angel, not like them, not like the sinners, or her father or Vaggie, they've already lost their chance, not made for hell the other rings' demons, she's better than them, uniquely innocent. handed a shot in heaven, who wouldn't take it?

im personally interested in the Lucifer and Lilith drama because im mentally ill and abnormal about them

Luci is so split about the offer because he wants whats best for her and she doesnt deserve hell she shouldn't suffer for his sins and he also doesn't want an uprising(which Charlie is at most, three realizations away from starting) but also if they try to steal his daughter away to heaven, the last true family he has after being cast out, its war

[whyreyousoobsessedwithme]

Spoilers 477

It took long because I was trying to work with my very uncooperative group members who suck ass at communicating.🙄 I literally had a dream about it because I was so stressed.

I like how different Jinyoung's personality is when he can't remember, you know like bashing Allied while in pain, but that also means he's getting better at sorting out his thoughts despite the pain and panic attacks. And is it just me or what Jinyoung's experiencing, not panic attacks at all. Like, I'm not a professional psychiatrist or anything, but those do not look like panic attacks.

Also, isn't anyone going to help him like his ass is just there bleeding out.

Lmao, we all know what happens when Yujin gets cocky about his fighters.

🥺he wants to stay by samuel,even though samuel doesn't give him the time of day.

On god, this bitch is pissing me off, chasing after this lifestyle is literally what ruined him and big deal. He has people that care about him even though he doesn't deserve it and still chooses to act like a douche. Honestly, Jake's is pissing me off too. He's too nice for giving chances to people who don't deserve and clearly should be in jail (jihoe, xiaolong, vivi and samuel).

Warren bought them chicken like he always does 🥺. I honestly like how Amy and Natalie are so much smaller here, I feel like it shows us that these girls are younger than Sally and the others. Like they actually look like children, unlike the other girls. Also, yenna looks so cute and pudgy, but jokes aside, someone tell ptj that 3 years old don't look that small.

Bros about to get manhandled by a kid too. Do the men working for yujin forget their boss is also a child.

It's so funny whem when he tries to act intimidating when he's so tiny. I will stomp on him (I am also under the average height).

Thr audacity of this Lil bitch. He literally had his friends tortured, especially Daniel, and Sally almost got r*ped; and now he has the nerve to ask Daniel that! Bitch should be glad he's getting an option instead of his ass handed back to him.

Pretty sure ptj forgot to draw his tattoos just like he forgot Goo's wound on his neck.

It makes sense that Yujin would go after Gun. However, I'm going to be honest, I don't think it'll be easy or even possible. Honestly, lung cancer has a higher chance of killing Gun than these guys. I feel like James Lee and Tom Lee are probably some of the few people capable. Yujin probably knows that Gun is an heir to a powerful mafia group in Japan or that he at least has ties to the Yakuza. So he's either really overconfident or actually has more tricks up his sleeve. Although I'm sure Yujin knows of Gun's reputation as the white demon why else would we see him in all white.

I also feel like we'll finally get a backstory on Gun, I know his ass is downright evil. Like come on, the Yamazaki clan is currently the most powerful in Japan. They didn't become the number 1 by being decent human beings, that's for sure. He's probably worse than Charles, Goo, Tim Lee, Minsik, James Lee, and Jake's older brother combined✋🏼.

[frogsndogs]

I feel like if they were to make another Scooby Doo series, they should reboot the 13 Ghosts (properly this time). Lemme tell you why:

(Also Note: I have not seen the 13 Ghost movie in it's entirety so pls just keep that in mind)

okay so first we could have that found family dynamic that everyone loves and that the 13 Ghosts had amazing set up and some execution but i don't think reached it's full potential.

Dad!Vincent parenting a bunch of wack kids who insist on helping put the demons back and they keep showing up at his house how did they even find this address I live at the top of a cliff in the middle of nowhere what do you mean you brought my Chinese food - that delivery person gave you my adress didn't he I always knew he was a bad egg

Next I think that we should get a proper Flim Flam and Vincent backstory - how did they meet? where? Why is Flim Flam staying with Vincent? and we could have some added depth there

And an cool aspect of Flim Flam and Vincent's relationship is that Vincent is a real-deal wizard where Flim Flam is (like his name suggests) a con artist. I think this could bring an interesting facet to their relationship and maybe even drive the inner conflict of at least one episode

Then I think that we should have more lore abt the Chest of Demons, like where it came from, how they were trapped originally, etc, etc,

Explore the magical community and Vincent's place in it

along these lines ppl in the magic community must have at least heard of the Scooby Gang and their exploits - watch Scooby become a celebrity in the Magic world and have one of those cliche "fame is dangerous episodes" while building lore

Daphne leadership role!!!

I always kinda went with the idea that Daph, Shag and Scooby didn't tell Fred and Velma abt the chest bc they wanted to protect them from the demons

Like when they were originally going after the demons they weren't just tracking them - they demons were tracking them back and it often got dangerous, so we could have some tension with Fred and Velma thinking that the trio is lying to them and a heartfelt episode with that

Then I think that Weerd and Bogel deserve a redemption arc

They were always treated badly by the demons and i think that the one episode where they pretend to team up with the gang could be a turning point where they realize how teams are supposed to work and how the gang shows them (their enemies) genuine compassion

They're funny and they also have a complex dynamic that I would have liked to explore

I think that Daphne's sister (either an older one from SDMI (prob Delilah) or a younger one, like the one that was pitched with Scrappy to be his owner(kinda leaning towards this)) would be a good edition

Depending on if she was older or younger she could be a mentor or a good friend for Flim Flam and Scrappy

I see this Daphne as being more of a leader than her goofy BC self(who I love don't get me wrong) but I think that Daphne's sister could bring a goofier element with Flim Flam and Scrappy

AND

BRING BACK SCRAPPY

He was such a good boy in this series - such a good friend to Flim Flam and so supportive of his uncle

There is so much wasted potential with his character, in my opinion but that's for a whole other post probably - this has already gotten longer than i expected

anyway that's most of my ideas - i probably have more somewhere in my head

[adidegmez]

spn s4 spoilers

spn s4 ep1(lazarus rising)

well, Dean is not in hell. ı watched the first 3 seasons as fast as I could. so that I could see cas. I know him from clips I see on the internet. and I was looking forward to meeting him and seeing his relationship with the Winchesters. ıt is already funny.

Dean thinks he doesn't deserve saving. he deserves the best always. he deserves every good thing in the world.

spn s4 ep3(in the beginning)

wow. mary is a hunter. mary's parents are hunters. john was kind. this ep broke my heart. dean and Mary's conversation🥹. Dean's reactions are very funny when Cas suddenly comes to Dean. I love it. well yellow-eyed demon returned. but not in the way I thought he would. mary made a deal. and she didn't even talk about it with John. why? I know she wanted a family blah blah blah she could've prepared them for what going to happen. sam and Dean are hunters because of her. john turned the way he did because of her. She could've done something but she didn't as far as ı know for now. ıdk what she could've done but still, I don't think what she did was okay.

spn s4 ep4(metamorphosis)

I wish I could just say Dean was right. if only it was that simple but both Dean and Sam were right. sam is saving people I hope he won't lose himself. and Dean is worried about his little brother as always. sam lied to Dean and he doesn't know why he lied to him either.

spn s4 ep6(yellow fever)

Dean… even when he is scared he is so cute. and he is trying to be brave for his brother. I love him so much. this ep was so funny. ilovehim ilovehim ilovehim… dean is right they are insane but that's why I love them they are still doing this job to save people. eye of the tiger bts was perfect I love Jensen Ackles so much.

spn s4 ep7(it's the great pumpkin, sam winchester)

Did I mention I love Dean? Of course, I did. and I'll say it again and again. well, again both Dean and Sam are right. I thought angels would be different. sam tried to do things Dean's way. I hope Dean knows that. cas is kinda good. I like him. dean has so much on him and I hope he can handle it and will be alright.

spn s4 ep8(wishful thinking)

Dean remembers everything. I am gonna cry now thx. I thought he remembered parts of it not all of it. 40 years in hell… I can see the pain in his eyes. I love Dean I love Jensen. he is so strong he is trying to hide this but we can see it.

spn s4 ep10(heaven and hell)

I wish I couldn't feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing. dean

spn s4 ep14(sex and violence)

I love Bobby. he saved the Winchesters again.

spn s4 ep16(on the head of a pin)

dark Dean. I am scared a little bit. Sam, what are you doing? heaven is right to be afraid of Sam. he is dangerous. He wants to do the right thing but idk it feels wrong. Ruby scares me. I like her but I am not entirely sure she is good. sometimes I wonder why is she helping the Winchesters. I know she said her reasons but idk. I don't like Uriel. I like Anna. Now, I hate Uriel. but he is kinda right humans suck(not all of them of course but most). bad things always happen to Dean. I hate it. It's you Dean you're going to save everyone. you will.

spn s4 ep17(it's a terrible life)

It would be terrible if Winchester's life were like this. they don't know each other. they're living normal lives. I knew the website was ghostfacers'. well, they were useful. Zachariah is right. I like him. being a hunter is in Winchesters blood. they are meant to be like this.

spn s4 ep18(the monster at the end of this book) I need those books. cas I love you. Zachariah why? they should know what is going to happen.

spn s4 ep19&20(jump the shark&the rapture) well, I finally met Adam. I saw him on the internet earlier and I saw people hating John. I don't hate him, yet. Dean and Sam don't hate him. yes, Dean and Sam deserved a normal life but Mary died they are not normal Sam has demon blood in him. They would probably be dead if John didn't raise them the way he did. yes, John could've done better. he could've been there for them. instead, he was obsessed with revenge. But in the end, he gave up his desire for revenge and prioritized his sons. and I still love him for it. I hope he won't do anything bad in next season. he did try to give a normal life to Adam and I think it was nice of him to try.

poor Jimmy. Sam's demon blood obsession is getting out of hand. he looked like a vampire. I hope he will get better. I am glad Bobby and Dean got him. hopefully, they'll be able to help him. Why is Cas acting rude to Dean?

spn s4 ep 21(when the levee breaks) I don't want to hate Sam but he is pushing my limits. he almost killed Dean. spn s4 ep 22(lucifer rising) at least Sam knows he is wrong. angels are corrupt too. Cas I love you. you're doing the right thing. sam became a demon, amazing. ruby what, why? yes, sam. ruby is dead but in the end, lucifer is free. apocalypse is no one's fault but some of the angels. it's not Dean's fault or Sam's it's some of the angels. it is not looking good.