#in a way reminds me of this girl- although cis I knew

[elaersoy]

ꕀ ᐝ 𖠳   cemre baysel, cis woman, she/her 𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ  ‷ heads up ; if you hear HATE TO SEE YOUR HEART BREAK by PARAMORE blaring, it’s most likely ELA ERSOY making their way down the shore ! they’re 24 years old and celebrate their birthday on 01/10 - i knew they were a/an CAPRICORN ! especially since they’re very EBULLENT and MEDDLESOME. they are from ANTALYA, TURKEY, staying in DOWNTOWN and are currently working as a PRESCHOOL TEACHER, here at the cape. they always did remind me of the smell of cinanamon candles, the feeling of writing with new pens, and moon / sun necklace.‷

basic information.

full name: ela ceren ersoy

gender & pronouns: cis woman, she/her

place of birth: antalya, turkey

age & birthday: 24, january 10th, 1999

area of residence: downtown

occupation: preschool teacher

summary.

ela ersoy, born into the prestigious ersoy family in turkey, harbored a deep desire for her mother's beauty, believing it held the key to power and happiness. however, her reality was far from glamorous, with her parents' tumultuous relationship and her father's untimely death leaving her emotionally scarred. seeking acceptance and love, she followed her mother to cannes and later to the united states, where she made impulsive decisions, including marrying an abusive man. after returning to turkey and inheriting her wealth, ela experienced newfound freedom but also felt shame over her reckless lifestyle. however, seeking a sense of purpose, she made a life-changing decision to become a teacher in the united states, now looking forward to a fresh start and a more fulfilling path ahead as she enters her first year as a teacher's aide at a local preschool.

background.

trigger warnings: death, domestic abuse, car accident

in her early years, ela harbored a profound desire—to possess the same beauty as her mother. she believed that beauty held the key to power and happiness, but little did she know how complex her path would be, being born into the prestigious ersoy family in turkey. the ersoy name carried both wealth and a burden of historical significance.

yet, the reality of ela's life was far from the glamorous facade that many would assume. her parents' tumultuous relationship often made headlines, becoming a subject of widespread criticism. kaan ersoy, ela's father, made the controversial decision to leave his wife of fifteen years for a younger, more attractive, and supposedly more fertile woman, alara urusoy, a model.

despite the opposition from both families, kaan and alara were determined to be together and hastily tied the knot mere hours after kaan's divorce was finalized.

nine months later, ela ersoy came into this world, bringing both joy and unexpected sorrow. although her father had hoped for a male heir, his heart quickly embraced his precious little girl, and he reveled in the newfound role of fatherhood. tragically, their time together was cut short when kaan's life was claimed in a devastating car accident, leaving ela merely fifteen months old. the opportunity for a loving father-daughter bond was cruelly snatched away.

at just twenty-one years old, alara found herself widowed and grappling with the immense loss. however, she was fortunate to receive a generous monthly allowance, easing some financial burdens. despite the grieving, alara immersed herself in an active social life, attending lunches, cocktail parties, and dinners. eventually, a pivotal decision emerged in alara's life as she chose to move to london.

as the heiress to a colossal hotel empire, ela was set to inherit a substantial trust fund once she reached twenty-one. however, her father's family disapproved of alara's lifestyle, leading her aunt to seek custody of ela when she was just five years old. without the need for a trial, alara agreed to relinquish her rights as a mother in exchange for a considerable sum of money. she did, however, request to spend some weeks with her daughter during the summer, more to maintain appearances than out of genuine affection. as a result, ela relocated to her aunt's opulent mansion in antalya.

ceyda, ela's aunt, was delighted to have her niece under her care. she had longed for a daughter of her own, and now she finally had one. however, their relationship appeared more polite than affectionate, with ceyda showing care but keeping a certain emotional distance. struggling to adapt to her new environment, ela desperately attempted to please those around her, especially her aunt. the abrupt changes in her young life began to take their toll, instilling doubt about her own worth. she couldn't help but compare herself to her mother, believing beauty and perfection were attributes solely gifted to alara, fueling a deep-seated desire for acceptance.

upon turning eighteen, ela received a rare opportunity to spend the summer in cannes, where her mother now resided. this prospect excited her immensely, as it had been years since she had the chance to spend significant time with her mother. the possibility of finally building a meaningful relationship with her was all she had ever longed for. as she grew more confident in her appearance, she hoped that she might now be deserving of her mother's attention and affection.

however, what she didn't anticipate was how profoundly she would fall in love with the newfound freedom her mother's company provided. it was like being released from a long confinement, and ela relished every moment of her emancipation. the initial rush of freedom captivated her so much that she no longer wished to return to her previous confines. what was meant to be a two-month stay stretched into three, then four, as they continued to enjoy their time together in cannes. eventually, her mother made the decision to move to the united states, and without hesitation, ela followed suit, drawn in by the irresistible allure of the dazzling hollywood lights.

a child, that's who she was. the clothes, the makeup, and her attitude could have fooled anyone that she was no less than twenty-five, but she was only a nineteen-year-old girl trying to co-exist in a world of adults. it was the summer of 2018 when she met miles foster, a talent agent, ten years her senior. he fascinated her, as did the rumors surrounding him. he was known to be a 'bad boy', the kind that dragged a playboy reputation. how could someone like him have eyes for someone like her? getting involved with him was an act of desperation.

simultaneously, ela encountered another young man, someone her aunt would approve of: well-mannered, intelligent, well-traveled, and her age. he treated her like royalty, and their connection felt effortless. in a perfect world, he would be her choice over miles. in a perfect world, her self-hatred wouldn't have gotten in the way.

in a sudden, impulsive decision, ela accepted miles' proposal, despite her aunt's disapproval. her determination at nineteen was unshakable. miles revealed his true nature even before they married, displaying forceful and domineering traits. despite these warning signs, ela, struggling with low self-esteem, found his confidence appealing. they married in the winter of 2018, but what followed was a harrowing nightmare. miles's violent outbursts instilled fear in her, leaving her desperate for an escape. before her twenty-first birthday, she bravely confronted him, expressing her desire for a divorce, and ultimately returned to turkey.

after returning to turkey and gaining full control of her inheritance, ela became the center of attention, relishing the newfound freedom and the attention people showered upon her. for the first time, she experienced a normal life, surrounded by friends her age and focused solely on her own desires, not seeking approval from others. however, the lavish and reckless lifestyle she embraced left her feeling ashamed.

things took a turn when her beloved aunt fell seriously ill, triggering deep fear of losing the only family member who truly showed her love. after her aunt's passing, ela retreated to the family's summer house. with her two cousins, she became a co-heir of the renowned 'ersoy resorts.' despite this inheritance, she realized that she lacked passion for the family business.

seeking a sense of normalcy, she made a life-changing decision to return to the united states two years ago. there, she studied to become a teacher. now, on the verge of her first year as a teacher's aide at a local preschool, ela looks forward to a fresh start and a more fulfilling path ahead.

wanted connections.

the one that got away: her first and possibly only love so far. they met when ela was 18 and moved to california. they had a very brief romance before she chose miles over him. to this day, she regrets this decision.

friends: since she moved here, ela has been leaving her comfort zone and she's been trying to improve her social life. so i'd love for her to have a small group of friends.

work related: she is going to start working at the local preschool, so either other teachers or maybe the parents of some of her new students.

neighbors: she lives in a small apartment in downtown.

fwb: ya know the drill lmao

unrequited feelings: either ela or your muse admire the other from afar and somehow they haven't mustered the courage to talk to the other.

awkward date: they went on a date for whatever reason but it didn’t work out and they ended up never talking again.

wrong idea: ela dislikes this person because she thinks they’re not a great person but of course, all ela needs to do is give your muse a chance.

misunderstanding: these two didn’t have a great start. maybe ela threw coffee on them by accident, or was talking to your muse s/o and unintentionally seemed like she was trying a move and your character took it the wrong way.

[abeldavis]

ꕀ ᐝ 𖠳 michael b jordan, cis man, he/him 𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ ‷ heads up ; if you hear SON OF A PREACHER MAN by ARETHA FRANKLIN blaring, it’s most likely ABEL DAVIS making their way down the shore ! they’re 34 years old and celebrate their birthday on 12/21 - i knew they were a SAGITTARIUS ! especially since they’re very CHARMING and PRIVATE. they are from ST. FRANCISVILLE, LOUISIANA, staying in DOWNTOWN and are currently working as OWNER AND OPERATOR OF ARETHA'S CORNER: A JAZZ, FUNK & SOUL LOUNGE, here at the cape. they always did remind me of a table piled high with books on various different subjects, a closet filled with nothing but exquisitely tailored suits, and an old record player filling the room with the smooth sounds of soul."

Abel Davis was the first born child and only son of Protestant Pastor James Davis, and music teacher Jasmine Davis, and was raised in St. Francisville Louisiana, less than two hours from the Big Easy, New Orleans. Though his parents were quite strict, they were also very supportive and provided Abel, as well as his two younger sisters, with all of the tools, as well as the structure that were needed to be able to create success for themselves in life.

While growing up, Abel fell in love with music, which was always playing in the Davis household. The sounds of legendary artists like Miles Davis, Ella Fitzgerald, Nina Simone, Count Basie and many others led Abel to seek out instruction from his mother from a very early age. Although she could be quite hard on him in their lessons, sometimes to the point of making him want to quit, his love for music was always enough to make him push through, and by his teens he became highly proficient at piano and saxophone.

(TW: Racism and Discrimination Mentions) Of course growing up in the deep south as an African American meant that Abel faced discrimination and racism, even with both his parents being highly respected members of the community. There was undeniably times when Abel noticed that he was receiving lesser treatment compared to some of his white peers, and sometimes he was explicitly subjected to racial slurs and derogatory comments. Most times, Abel did his best to brush all of this off and not let it bother him, but there were definitely times when it got to him. Still, he tried to remember what his parents always told him: the best revenge against discrimination and racism was to become a successful person of colour. With this mantra in mind, Abel was determined to become undeniable wherever he went.

By the time he finished high school, Abel knew exactly what it was that he wanted to do with his life: Music. Though his parents were more than a little disapproving of this risky path, wanting him to instead pick something with more stability, Abel reasoned that he would give it a try for one year, and if it didn't work out, he promised he would go to school like they wanted.

(TW: Discrimination and Racism Mentions) Abel's first year of touring was definitely a bit of a wake up call to the realities of how deep discrimination ran in the south, with a lot of places refusing to book him for no real reason, while some didn't even try to hide that it was because of his race. Still, he was just barely able to make enough money to cover his living expenses, and though it wasn't exactly the most glamorous life that he was living, he was getting to live his dream of playing music and was determined to keep it going. The second year, he made a bit more, and by the third year, he was in enough demand that he was able to afford small amounts of comfort, with every year after that seeing a gradual uptick in his business.

This went on for a number of years, until Abel was something of a mini celebrity in the Southern States. It seemed to him that this would be the rest of his life, and he was completely okay with that. However, fate had a different plan in mind; it turned out that a girl named Josephine, whom Abel had had relations with, had become pregnant with his child, and it didn't take him very long to realize that his life of constant travel wasn't going to work particularly well with being a father. His parents had always been present when he was growing up, and he attributed a lot of his success to that fact; he wanted to make sure his daughter would be able to say the same thing when she was older. He decided that he would go on one final tour prior to her birth, and then he would figure out what to do next.

(TW: Death, Childbirth) It turned out that even if Abel hadn't come to the decision on his own, he would have had no choice but to put an end to his days on the road. Josephine suffered from complications during childbirth, and though the child was thankfully successfully delivered, the mother only survived long enough to hold her daughter in her arms once, and to agree with Abel that her name would be Aretha.

Now a single father to a little girl, Abel knew that he needed to make his next move, and he needed to do it fast. Thankfully, he knew exactly what that move was going to be. He remembered all too well how much of a struggle it had been as a young black artist to find a place where he could perform, and he knew that he wasn't alone in this struggle. Well, what if he could create a space for artists of colour to be showcased? Thus, the idea for Aretha's Corner: A Jazz, Funk, and Soul Lounge was born. Using the money that remained untouched from his school fund, he placed a down payment on a space in the heart of downtown New Orleans and took out a loan to renovate the space to his liking. It was undoubtedly a big gamble, but Abel was confident that it would pay off. And it did. Big time.

Aretha's Corner became a huge success, and after two years of operation, Abel had not only managed to pay off the original loan in its entirety, but he was starting to consider the possibility of potentially opening a second location. It took another two years, but he finally did exactly that, though nobody could have ever predicted the location that he would choose.

The idea of opening a Jazz lounge to showcase artists of colour in New Jersey was admittedly a little bit out there, but Abel had made a life for himself by taking gambles and betting on himself, and he was determined to prove that he could do it for a third time. He was confident that if he could make it work in Cape May of all places, then there was no limit to where he could expand from there. Plus, he couldn't help but feel like by moving to the north, he would be giving his young daughter a chance to have new experiences that she might not have been able to have in Louisiana. And so, leaving management of the original Aretha's in the very capable hands of his Mother, Abel and Aretha moved to Cape May to begin their new adventure!

Abel hasn't been in Cape May that long, having only very recently completed the renovations and opening the club to the public. Thus far, the club has been a success, and Abel has high hopes that that success will continue!

Please don't hesitate to message me if you'd be interested in plotting with Abel!

[ritual-misery]

18-10-2023 🎧

yesterday was very up and down 💀 and i knew it was gonna a mess the second i forgot my earphones at home. those shits r my lifeline. riding the bus in silence was torturous

anyways. yesterday something happened that hasn't happened in a while... i got gendered as female. usually, where i am now in my transition, i'd say i get gendered as male 99% of the time. ages vary; usually people think i'm some 13 year old LMFAO but chemically i am 13 so i mean... there u go. but nonetheless they read me as a guy

but yesterday was different. it was after my last class of the day and these girls started talking to me about the material and whatnot. then we went to some public event thing happening outside and as we're sitting there i get called "she" when one of the girls says something abt me to the other one. i thought, maybe i misheard. but then they started talking about the traits they hate in guys... then i was called a baddie... sooooo 😭

honestly i feel nothing about it. maybe a bit awkward cause eventually its gonna come up that im actually a guy. and its gonna be weird. but it kinda made me think. like yeah, i get gendered as male a lot, but honestly im still pretty androgynous. i have no facial hair yet, my face is still kinda round, i wear earrings (non-feminine ones), and i'm short. so someone could easily read me for a girl as much as they read me for a guy. i notice that when i do get misgendered, it's usually by girls. other guys always gender me right. the rare times i'm read as female it's usually by a girl. curious as to why

but nonetheless it happened. and it reminded me that i have a long way to go in my journey. and that i shouldn't get too proud and think that i'm mr. unclockable all of a sudden. i have some time to wait before my face changes dramatically or i grow facial hair (although im trying to get my hands on some minoxidil), but there are more areas where i can masculinize as i wait. like working out and doing different things with my hair. i'm gonna try and style it different because i feel like it makes me look so feminine and it bothers me lmao. it's this overgrown mullet thing, and the process of growing out the sides is making me want to go bald. in my deluded brain i feel that if i finally grow out my hair long it'll actually help me look more male? cause it'll cover my face and make me look a little older (i feel that lots of young boys have short hair while longer hair would indicate maybe an older guy? idk 💀)

it's easy to get discouraged, i think. i found my mind saying, "a cis guy would never have to deal with something like this." but then it occurred to me that i'm not a cis guy. i'm gonna have different experiences in life than one, and i shouldn't use the average cis guy's life as a marker for mine. it'll just leave me unsatisfied and feeling like a failure when i've failed nothing. i gotta focus on myself and what im doing. i'm not cis so my life is not gonna be similar to that of cis people's. and that's not a shitty thing

oh and here's my second problem. i ran out of testosterone. i'm with this specialized doctor right now and he's very hard to reach out too. long story short, the next time i see him is in november... i ran out of T last week. today's my shot day, actually. so i'm concerned. i know that nothing monumental will happen to me over 3 or so weeks, but the only thing i really don't want to happen is my period returning. which it surely will. so now i have to do a final hail mary: at the very beginning of this, i got a prescribed vial that i wasn't able to receive because of a problem with insurance. there's a chance that the vial is still sitting in the pharmacy now. will i probably have to pay? yeah. but i mean.. what choice do i have. i would rather pay and take the T than wait three weeks and have my body go through crazy mood swings and my monthly returning from the shadowy depths. so i'm about to call the pharmacy and see what they say. at least i can try. it's been one year, so the doctor is going to give my prescription to my family doctor to have him deal with it (special doctor only handles patients for one year), but my fam doctor will probably ask me to give it to someone else. so i should start researching some endos in the area

alas. weird life, weird events. today i got no classes and i'm gonna try and get stuff done. there's minimal things i need to do for school, so non-academic tasks are getting prioritized. ESPECIALLY my workout. it's been way too long, and i'm trying to get all buff now so when summer hits i'm chilling. plus it's winter coming soon so what else am i supposed to do lmao. also gonna try and buy some stickers to decorate my laptop today. very whimsical and fun ofc

[random-thoughts-hq]

I’ve been questioning my gender in a space safe enough to do something about it and it’s insane

Transitioning was never an option before and suddenly I have a traditionally male haircut and getting called she hurts when it didn’t a week ago. I feel like most people still see me as a girl and I don’t know how to change an initial perception like that but I don’t know. I can finally be one of the guys and navigating the world is so much weirder bc suddenly I don’t know what I am perceived as.

Suddenly I’m experiencing dysphoria with feminine earrings and euphoria at looking like a guy and it’s so sudden and new

I wish I could know whether it’s just another facet of shock of moving out but I remind myself that cis people don’t do this

Cis people don’t go in the bathroom trying to hide their hair under a beanie just to see

Cis people don’t try to find an excuse to cross dress for Halloween

Cis people don’t hyperfixate on guys which similar features because it feels like finding a doppelgänger and what could’ve been

Cis people don’t joke about repressing a gender crisis because they know it’s not an option but don’t want to commit to being a woman forever

But I was happy presenting as female and really fucking good at it

I can’t tell if I just got really good at faking from a young age

I think i did actually

I think back to kindergarten, and reading a story about not being able to fake things forever because eventually it’ll eat away at you

And even then I felt like something was off about me because I could tell I wasn’t my full self

I was special can beautiful as a child and now I’m a guy

So much loss but so much more opens up and I can’t tell where I am

But why didn’t I have more friends who were guys growing up. Nevermind scratch that. I did but I remember when I got to a point where I couldn’t because I knew I’d never be one of them. The only way to be close to boys was to date and I didn’t want that I wanted friendships. I have a beautiful friend group from high school and my bf and I found each other although closeted as hell. But even so I do have amazing other friends who are genderqueer as well. I do regret how I was limited in my friendships bc of my gender expression I feel like I missed out on the depth of what those could have been.

It’s wild looking back and realize how I became hyper fem bc it hurt too much to be a tomboy, too close to pretending to be a boy without being the real thing. I had traditionally feminine interests and found comfort in that, but it never felt right. No wonder I dissociated so much while I danced. No wonder I hated the idea of all women schools and colleges. No wonder I enjoyed using male gendered terms for myself under the guise of gender neutral. No wonder I enjoyed copying male mannerisms and being dominant in a room and questioning gender roles.

And now everything makes sense. I can dance and feel at home in my body. I can take pictures that aren’t perfectly posed or just right in candidness and it finally looks like me.

[that-damn-girl]

(8) Bucky and The Bed

Completed

Chapter 7

Bucky and The Bed Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (cis)fem!reader

Words: 3100+

Summary: You and Bucky are stranded in the middle of a snowy nowhere when there is an ‘electronic blackout’ during your mission. With no back ups or any way to contact your team, you take refuge from the worsening weather in the only cabin you find  in miles. Not to mention, with no power, Bucky has become your personal heater and there’s only one bed.

Chapter type: Fluff.

Chapter/Trigger warning: Language? Like teensy weensy bit of angst?

A/N: Thank you for continuing to read this series still. After the end, which I will start on a Bucky x Rogers!reader miniseries. I am particularly excited to write the next two chapters. Hope you like this part!

Bucky looked at it. Kept looking at it. And looked at it some more.

The metal armed man was sure he couldn't ever get tired of the sight in front of him. It was simple and yet so complex he felt he could get lost into it and never regret a second. It might not be much, but it was enough for him to lose himself. He didn't know how to describe the sense of serenity it brought him. 

Peeking through the light fluffy clouds, the setting sun cast warm golden rays that gave every snowy surface around you a honey like glaze. As the time gradually passed, various colours in the most brilliant of their shades blended beautifully to embellish the never-ending sky. As the slanting rays of the sun flitted through the clouds, the yellow filter in the sky gave way to a graceful braid of pink and orange before shrouding everything is it's vermilion hue.

In the handful of days you had taken refuge in the cabin, not one day had the sun been kind enough to grace you with its presence. When today it finally did, you and Bucky realised it was too good an opportunity to miss the sunset view these mountains offered. Without any further ado, a bonfire was created outside the cabin with dry leaves and firewood arranged meticulously. 

The splendid view of nature in its finest forms was exploited to its full content. You and Bucky sat around the bonfire, taking in the furiously blushing sky and the snow covered peaks shining golden in the distance as the clouds traversed through them.

Bucky was taken aback by the raw beauty in front of his eyes. It reminded him of the sunsets in Wakanda. Sure it wasn't comparable to those in the futuristic and fascinating country, but it was a close second. He only grew more in awe of the view the more he looked at it. Majestic was one word for the sight in front of him. It wasn't the sky though. 

It was you. 

A small, unconscious smile took a hold of his lips as he took in your face, peacefully resting on his shoulder. Your arms were tightly curled around his vibranium one, your body leaning its weight on him. A shared blanket was thrown over your backs, trapping in the heat the fire provided.

For Bucky, it was majestic, really. How could it not have been, looking at your face, at the blend of the colours from the setting sun and the fire casting a beautiful glow to your already beautiful self? Your serene features were highlighted by the natural light and the dancing flames. You looked elegant and exquisite, more so than anyone he had ever known. As bewildering as it sounded, Bucky had met a god but the warm colours grazing your skin truly made you more divine than any other celestial being. 

Bucky was utterly whipped.

Sensing his gaze on you, you tilted your head to look at him. Bucky had always had an intense face, even when he was relaxed or didn't mean to do it. You had encountered it many a times and dealt with the increase in your heart rate it brought, but you could never get used to his soft smile and gentle eyes looking at you with such adoration, such love, such trust, as if you had hung the stars and the moon for him. It overwhelmed you, always, but in the best of the ways. Especially since you had discovered a couple days ago that it wasn't just in your head. 

Unable to stifle your own giddy smile, you reached up to kiss his lips. It was only meant to be a peck, but he drew you in even before you had the chance to pull back, always eager to taste you, to have you, to kiss you, to cherish you. You galdly gave into the kiss. It was soft and sweet, the way his lips molded around yours, moving in sync. The kiss slowly grew intense, but not heated. It was only filled with love and care, making him unable to put in the conscious effort of letting you go if you were okay with it. 

Instead his strong arms wound around you and brought you to him lap so that you were straddling his thick thighs. His lips moved slow but firm, just taking the time to worship your lips as they deserved to be. One hand tightened around your middle, keeping you secure in his hold while the other drifted down to your butt, his large hands kneading your cheeks gently with utmost care and fondness. You slid your arms up his broad chest and around his neck, holding him close. Smiling in between the kisses, neither of you were able to let go, clinging to each other as none could get enough of the other.

When you finally did let go to breathe in lung fulls of the crisp, cold air, you moved to relieve him of your weight. His arms tightened around you in a slight moment of panic, refusing to dismiss the comfort you brought him just by your touch, your closeness. "Stay, please?" He softly pleaded.

You looked down at the heavy log of wood Bucky sat upon. It was broad enough to sit, but not enough to be comfortable if he kept your weight on himself for long. "Your legs are going to hurt, Bucky"

"Y/N, I don't know the true limit of the powers the serum gave me, but I think it's enough to stop a helicopter from taking off. I think I can hold my precious girl without hurting myself." He smiled at you with the boyish charm and the innocence of a first grader announcing that he got A+ in an assignment.

"Show off," You chuckled, booping his nose with yours. "But an adorable show off."

"What?" Bucky quietly, softly muttered, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "I like holding you, hugging you, having you close. That's all." Your heart fluttered in your chest, swelling with emotions. The simplicity, the vulnerability with which he admitted favouring your presence made you wonder just how much open and comfortable he was with you. You knew he liked you, trusted you, but it never ceased you from being overwhelmed everytime he expressed it.

Heart brimming with affection for the man in front of you, you didn't trust yourself not to confess then and there how deeply in love you were with him. Instead you said the only thing you could think of to draw the attention away from your racing heart. "You also like my butt."

The metal hand tenderly kneading your butt cheek stilled. Hesitance crept in every being of Bucky. He cursed himself, worried he had offended you or made you uncomfortable somehow. What he heard was unassuming, but he didn't want to take any chances if you didn't like it. 

Bucky realised that since the day you had agreed to be his girl, he had given an awful amount of attention to your butt. He'd always rest his hands there while cuddling or gently knead the soft muscles as he was doing then. He would never deny that your behind was alluring to him, but his touch wasn't meant to be demeaning or enticing, at least not until you partook in sexy times. He'd only ever meant for his actions to treasure you, admire you, but he would not do it at the cost of your comfort. 

You caught onto what must have been going inside his head. Bucky meant to draw his hand back and apologise, but you stopped him and quickly added, "I love the attention, honestly."

"You're not... offended by it?" Pulling back to look at you, he asked unsurely, making himself look as small as possible.

"Should I be?"

Bucky shook his head, "I like you and I respect you, a lot. You know that, right? I only do it, because...well, what's there not to like about your butt?" He emphasised it by giving a small squeeze to your soft muscles.

"I believe you," You chuckled, giving his plump lips a sweet peck."And I meant it, I love the attention you give it. But why do you like it so much? My ass is so-"

"It's perfect." Bucky finished your sentence before you could add in any negative comment about yourself. "You're perfect, doll."

"You're such a charmer." You mumbled, going for his lips with a wide smile.

"Only for you." Bucky replied, happy to taste you, feel you. When he pulled back, he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

With the fiery flames warming your back and Bucky's heated body pressed to your front, you snuggled into him further. Head resting on his broad shoulder, eyes closed, you basked in the comforting embrace, in the heat seeping into your bones. It was your own little heaven.

Feeling the sun on his skin after so many days had felt great. Although he was used to staying in the dark before he was rescued, he didn't like it one but. It felt good, immensely so. But with you at his side, with him, enveloped in his arms, your touch calming him, anchoring him, everything was better than never before. 

It didn't take long for Bucky to realise that you had dozed off on his shoulder, your chest tranquilly rising and falling against him. Chuckling, he gripped both the ends of the blanket and curled his arms around you again, the pair of you now cocooned in the heat of the blanket. 

He rested his chin on your shoulder, his head leaning against your, and looked at the dwindling flames in the darkening sky. Nightfall loomed at the corners, impatiently waiting for the sun to complete its descent before it could take over. The lowering temperature was palpable in the chilling air. He knew he would need to carry you inside soon, but he waited for the soothing heat of the fire to die down before he would be forced to retreat inside. 

Looking at the sky in the far distance, Bucky took in the myriad of changing colours with time. He couldn't help but think about Steve. What Steve would have done if he would have been there. There was no doubt in Bucky's mind that Steve would have ran inside to look for a pencil and paper with the speed of a cheetah. 

He would have taken down the various shades on the trees and the mountains and the clouds floating above their heads with the monochromatic beauty of grey and created a masterpiece. Bucky smiled, thinking about the concentrated look Steve would have had in his face, brows furrowed as his eyes would have shifted like at a ping pong game between the sky and the paper. He remembered his days in the military camps with his pal, when the newly bulky man still testing his strength would sketch in any free time he got to deal with the stress he felt.

Bucky...missed his childhood friend very much. He didn't realise when his eyes had moistened when his vision grew blurry.

Not that Sam and you weren't few of the greatest friends he had had, but Steve was... something else. Steve Grant Rogers was his brother, truly so. 

Everytime Bucky thought about his pal, his Steve, limitless emotions flew through him, all different for different reasons. One of the most lasting ones though was that gratification. Bucky firmly believed he owed his life to Steve for saving him from the torture he had suffered from the hands of HYDRA. Not once, but twice, in Austria and in D.C., when that fool had nearly died instead of fighting him. Steve had also saved him from the governments of the entire freaking world, trusted in him when nobody else did. Steve had fought with his friends of the twenty first century, his only family, for him. The Golden Boy of America preferred his name being dragged through the mud and being counted in the ranks of the criminals he put behind the bars over losing Bucky. Though he knew it wasn't just for him, Steve had helped resurrect him and all the others when Thanos had snapped them dead. He didn't know how he could ever repay Steve for all that he had done, for all the sacrifices he had made for Bucky. 

Out of all those plethora of emotions, one of the few which weighted heavily on him was that of regret. For a man who had lived for over a hundred years, Bucky didn't have the chance to do as many things as he would have liked. Maybe it was because he hadn't lived as much as he had survived, but he didn't let that be the base of his excuses. He had meant to do many things right. 

Bucky never thanked his Ma for the man she had raised him to be. He was never there for his sisters when he had promised them he would be. He never properly thanked Steve for saving him time and again. He never thanked Howard for helping Steve save him when he was captured in Austria or for keeping Steve company when he couldn't. He never got to thank Tony for reversing the snap or apologise to him for all that he had done to his parents, Bucky's own friends, while in evil's control.

Bucky had always thought that he would have time; time which he lost partially because he had taken everything for granted, partially because fate had been cruel to him with a vengeance. Life of an Avenger was... unpredictable at the very best. They could be overly cautious, but never fully prepared. Many a times they had to deal with hostage situations or - Bucky still couldn't get used to believing it - alien invasions without a moment's notice. 

Bucky had learnt never to take things for granted the hard way. Now that he thought about it, lady luck had never been on his side for long. Everything even remotely good had been taken from him when he thought he had time to enjoy them and bask in their glory. 

He didn't want it anymore. Bucky didn't want the guilt weighing him down, knowing he could have done something or said something but didn't, because he thought fate would be kind enough to give him some time. 

He didn't want to take chances anymore.  

Glancing down, Bucky saw you napping peacefully on his shoulders, really making him a human pillow. Hot puffs of air fell on his neck through your open lips. His heart fluttered in his chest, mentally cooing at how adorable you looked.

He couldn't help but think back to the time he had first met you as himself. His metal arm was trapped in a hydraulic press in some abandoned factory. Both Sam and you had pure disbelief on your faces when Steve trusted Bucky enough to believe his every word...just because he could recall Sarah and how Steve wore his shoes. But then you had gotten to know each other, slowly but surely.

It hadn't been all rainbows and sunshine. The trio of you had had your asses kicked by the spider kid, a literal teenager. You and Sam had been imprisoned in the Raft and had to live a couple years as criminals because you had helped Steve in rescuing him. After Thanos happened, Steve had decided to go on his own journey, leaving Bucky with those who didn't really know him and neither did he know them.

But efforts were made on both the sides. You and Sam had welcomed him into the Avengers like your own. Sure he had been more open and closer to Sam first, but that hadn't deterred from trying to befriend him. 

Much like Sam, you had helped him through his night terrors. Been awake with him at odd hours of the night because he couldn't sleep. Helped him discover himself again. Listened to him when he needed an out without any judgement, or talked for the two of you when he wanted to communicate but couldn't. Trusted in him when he didn't even trust himself. Helped him believe in himself and forgive himself. You had helped him recover.

You were with him at the darkest times to guide him to the light, and celebrated with him when he did find his light. There were relapses, but you were with him to help him get back on track. 

You had trusted him enough to let him see your vulnerable spots, to confide in him, to let him take care of you, to let him help you just like you had helped him. You had trusted him enough to let him see you, the real you. 

But most important of all, you had been a friend before anything else. A friend whom he had needed had needed more than anything else.

Feelings had developed along the way, which he was glad for being reciprocated on both sides. The journey to where you and him were now had been a long one. It had never been easy, but it hadn't affected either of you. 

Bucky never wanted to lose you. He couldn't ever possibly lose you. You meant too much to him. He also knew he couldn't dare to think he'd have much time before something akin to Thanos happened again. Being an Avenger guaranteed that nothing was ever guaranteed. Most of all time, in Bucky's case at least.

Looking at you, Bucky realised he couldn't not let you know how he truly felt. No matter what your decision might be afterwards, he had to let you know. He wanted to be his own man, making his own decisions. And he wanted to love you, so goddamn much, if you allowed him.  His heart beat faster in realisation when he realised what that would mean. It made him nervous, but he was ready.

The risque wasn't lost on him. He was very well aware that you could run away in the opposite direction, thinking he was going too fast. You could break it off and your friendship wouldn't be the same again. If you wouldn't want to speak to him again, you would respect your wishes.

But if there was even the slightest chance that you felt the same, he needed to do it. Because the bliss of having you, being with you and loving you was worth every risk in the world.

The divider is made by @writeyourmindaway​

Chapter 9 

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Thank you for reading!

[twig-soup]

so when i finally accepted that i don't want men the way i'm "supposed" to and that i actually want women in that way, i still had a lot of unlearning to do. coming out (to myself, to my family) was just the beginning. there were still many aspects of queerness that made me uncomfortable, and i thought that having a mix of conservative and progressive beliefs on the subject made me unique, but really it just helped preserve my relationship with my conservative family and really i was being selfish, which i suspected deep down but had a very difficult time coming to terms with. i knew i was gay and there was no coming back from that revelation, and because i personally only identified with the L in LGBTQIA+ at the time, i let my conservative upbringing color my perception of people who were queer in different ways. i think, honestly, that i was so codependent with my parents that i blinded myself on purpose so i wouldn't lose them (in hindsight, maybe that might have been better. could have avoided the whole "stop crying over sodomy!" situation after my first sapphic relationship ended, and a lot else). it bothered me, though; at times it tore me up inside. the more i thought about it and the more i researched and participated in the community, the more i realized that i want to see A LOT more men in crop tops and short shorts. i want people to talk about sex as if they are not ashamed of having a body or experiencing sexual pleasure. i want a trans girl to announce her preferred pronouns and for it to be normal, not brave. i want people to talk about their multiple partners and be received with normal enthusiasm. i want people to wear elf ears to the store and paint their skin blue. and i even realized, upon seeing someone use she/they pronouns and feeling a flutter in my chest and reliving select childhood memories, that although gender was never a crisis for me like sexuality was, i am queer in other ways than just my sexuality. (this became longer than i thought it would be oops)

although a less life-changing discovery, this revelation was in some ways even bigger than the one about my sexuality. you don't have to identify as queer in multiple ways (or at all!!!!) in order to embrace people for all that they are, let's not get it twisted, but something just clicked for me then, and i saw with true clarity how much of my thinking was shaped by my parents' horrible and isolating outlook. like, before i came out, my family didn't believe that gay people loved each other. seriously. they taught me that the love between two men is not the same as love between a man and a woman and never can be, that gay relationships revolve around sex, that gay people are simply obsessed with their unnatural desires, all the queers are. but they were wrong! it's not about sex! it's never been about obsession with "unnatural desires"! and i always knew that, i screamed it at my parents, it's not about sex i love her!, but turns out it's even more than that. queerness goes beyond your personal experiences and i think more people should be reminded of that. queerness is about sex, actually, about virgins and whores and feeling sick of being shamed into silence, and it's about love, love between partners, between friends, between strangers, and it's about being proud of yourself and everyone else who lives and expresses themselves in a way that usually brings rejection, harassment, and discrimination. it's about recognizing that western society was designed specifically with cis straight white men in mind and no one else, that monogamous heterosexual marriages didn't have to be the standard, that gender roles didn't have to develop the way they did (or at all), that the reason you're uncomfortable seeing a face with a full beard and blue eyeshadow isn't because you're a free thinker but because you were taught to feel that way and haven't realized yet that you don't have to.

last year i went to my first pride celebration and it was delightful. the freaks were out and i was one of them. i kissed my girlfriend and the usual flash of panic, is someone going to shame us? hurt us?, wasn't there. there was a man wearing nothing but cutoff shorts and a really pretty bra. fat girls with bellies out. people who's gender i couldn't have assumed if i wanted to. a big grin on every single teenager's face. these were people my family and society taught me to judge and avoid, when in reality, these are the people i feel safe around, because i'm one of them. and i always knew that, but when you hear what your parents say about the freaks of the world, accepting that you're one of them is basically accepting that your parents don't like you, or wouldn't if they knew the real you, and that's a very painful thing. and listen, you don't think your brand of queerness is weird because it's yours, but can't you see? this mindset of "what is different from me is inherently lesser" is exactly the one that homophobes and transphobes have! and while it's not your fault that this was imprinted on you, it is your responsibility, as someone who wants acceptance for yourself, to change the way you think. how can you expect nonjudgement from others when you yourself have rigid standards of acceptance?

this post is for everyone but especially queers who are newly escaped or in the process of escaping their conservative upbringing. you're not unique for clinging to what is familiar and whatever logic you're using to explain away the validity of other weirdos like yourself is flawed and will never hold up against this one simple truth: being embraced wholly and completely, for everything you are, is a core human need, and nobody deserves to be denied that just because they look, act, or make life decisions that make you uncomfortable despite posing no actual threat to you whatsoever.

happy pride to all, and remember that whether you identify as part of the LGBTQIA+ community or you're just a freaky lil guy you deserve love and acceptance and that is a fact. regardless of where you're at on your journey i love you and i think your existence makes the world a better place.

[decodingellipses]

Modern Love: He Made Affection Feel Simple

[courtesy of Brian Rea]

"Dating as a transgender woman, in my experience, meant low expectations and casual sex. Then I met Jack."

This piece is part of the Modern Love column at The New York Times

by Denny

My bio on Grindr read: “Be trans friendly. Send face to chat.”

It was difficult to be on a gay hookup app as a trans woman. Most men in my feed desired to only sleep with each other. But I knew there were straight men on Grindr who hungered for a woman like me. I wanted them too.

That’s where I met Jack. At 22, he was a few months older than me, and, other than his age, his entire profile was blank, usually an indicator of a cisgender straight man who was guarded about his attraction to trans women. Typically, the messages I received would start with a vulgar sext, sometimes an unwanted nude photo.

Living in Morningside Heights, I was attending Fordham University for my master’s degree in strategic communication. One night I was up late working when I received a Grindr message from him, a selfie. Amid his light brown hair, two-day scruff and meek gaze, his lacrosse T-shirt stood out to me the most. He looked like a sporty boy I would have crushed on in high school.

He followed up his photo with “Hello.”

Messages in my Grindr inbox tended to cut to the chase: “Down for now?” “Car sesh?” Men who contacted me because they fantasized about trans women made it difficult for me to feel seen as a person in general, let alone a person worthy of respect.

Although my interest was piqued by Jack’s picture, it was his gentleness that drew me in.

Our sporadic small talk was harmless, spanning two months. I brushed him off, but as I commuted to school and spent hours in the library, he was persistent.

“My sex drive is pretty low these days,” I wrote. “Give me a bit and I’ll hit you up.”

“OK.”

When I turned back to my studies, he added, “Just so you know, we can do non-sex things and hang out too. It would be fun.”

This became our pattern: he being distant enough to show interest without pressure, and me appreciating his laxity, given my demanding schoolwork. His ease led me to trust him, so we set up a day to meet.

The first afternoon Jack came over, he admired my bathtub and drank his cup of water with two hands. His poised demeanor in a beige wool peacoat and long scarf reminded me, in a good way, of John Bender in “The Breakfast Club.” In my bedroom, he fixated on my yellow Power Ranger figurines, noticing my framed academic award next to them on the windowsill.

“You went to SUNY Oneonta?” he said. “I went to SUNY Potsdam.”

I pictured my friends who also attended Potsdam eating in the same cafeteria as Jack, getting drunk at the same frat party. Suddenly, the person I’d seen as a stranger now fit into my world.

I imagined what the deer looked like from his dorm room window, roaming the grass at dawn. Or how he spent his day when the school canceled classes because of snow. Or where he would have gone if his parents were able to afford private school.

We sat on my bed, my back leaning against the wall. He slouched his head onto my hip and wrapped his arms around my waist. “This is weird,” I thought. Aside from sexual intimacy, my hookups were typically aromantic, absent of cuddling and expressions of affection.

I kissed him and rolled on top. I took off my shirt and he hugged me tight. His face dug into my chest as he said, “I like you. I think you’re really cool.”

Unsure how I actually felt, I said, “Oh. I think you’re really cool, too.”

The next time I saw Jack, he spent the night at my place. It was then, awake in bed at 4 a.m., that I realized I had never let a guy sleep over before. His heat warmed the bed, so I crept to the bathroom to cool off. I Snapchatted a disoriented selfie to my friends, my hair messy and eyes bloodshot.

“How do you guys do this sleepover thing?” I wrote. “I can’t sleep at all.”

Customarily, my flings with strange men were brief. The men did not take note of my bathtub or my educational history before sex, and they did not linger after.

I came back into bed, disturbed by the rumble of his snoring, but his sleeping face on my pillow struck me. For the first time, the thought of sharing a bed with a man did not come from pure imagination. I now had a real image for this fantasy; I could pretend Jack was my boyfriend, reach for his face and whisper “I love you, good night,” then fall asleep and meet him somewhere in his dream as if we had done this a hundred times before.

The next day, he flew off to see his family for the holidays and the first weeks of the new year.

“merry crimmus,” I texted.

“u too, babygirl,” he replied.

After our sleepover, I didn’t hear from him unless I initiated — an unexpected change. Instead of giving in to my insecurity that the sleepover meant little to him, and therefore I meant little, I imagined other scenarios: him asking me to sleep at his place, for a change, or spontaneously calling me while I’m in line for my morning coffee. But because I had presumed a sex-only expectation from the start, I shamed myself for developing feelings.

“miss u,” he texted one random morning.

“really?”

We stayed in touch and occasionally saw each other, weeks in between. On a hot morning, he snored behind me as I sat on the floor beside my bed, working on my final thesis. He put his hand up to my face, letting me know he was awake. With my eyes on the laptop screen, I took his hand and planted kisses in his palm, wallowing in these ordinary joys — the kind of affection I slowly grew comfortable displaying.

Longing to be more than casual with him, I sought a therapist to guide me through my growing feelings.

Jack’s periodic “miss u” texts progressed with heart emojis, an unprecedented closeness. And I returned the sentiment. It felt thrilling to express my adoration so directly, until the weeks between seeing each other and texting ultimately turned into months of silence I knew to be ghosting.

I relied on Grindr as my safe dock because dating as trans is complicated. Sleeping around was easier for me. I had set the bar low, then met Jack, who saw me as more than a fantasized body, only to have his mysterious exit echo a looming insecurity I avoided for years: Being trans implies I am not real enough to deserve decency.

I broke down in therapy, mustering the courage to say out loud what was undeniably true: “He left me.”

“I don’t mean to put this on you,” my therapist said, “but could him being a cis straight man and you being a trans woman play a part?”

I didn’t want to blame Jack, who showed me a new realm of affection that made desire feel as simple as just a boy and a girl who liked each other. But he made leaving simple, too; all of this could still not be enough.

Deep down, I denied how my mere existence as a trans woman could ever cost him. Jack, in wooing me, nurtured the possibility that my romantic fantasies could come true, that I could be seen as a complex person rather than a fetishized token of someone’s imagination. After being deserted by him, I ruminated on my insecurity that being trans denied me of even a simple goodbye.

And yet I know myself to be real because my transition, as a teenager, required exceptional certainty. Doctors and psychiatrists double-checked my decision constantly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I repeated, and I became more real each year. With Jack, I felt even realer. Not only had he seen me as a woman, but as a woman worthy of being held.

I could blame my being trans for Jack’s ghosting, but maybe it had nothing to do with that. Maybe he hated his job. Maybe his family fell apart. Maybe the pleasure we felt together contrasted whatever pain remained of our baggage.

On lonely days, I imagine myself at SUNY Potsdam. At a frat party, I drunkenly dance across from Jack, cheap blue lights grazing the curves of our cheekbones, sweat dripping like cyan fireflies. Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” roars through the party. “Good times never seemed so good,” everyone shouts. “I’ve been inclined to believe they never would.”

I put myself in the cafeteria, where Jack and I approach the salad bar at the same time. When he sees me, he steps back and says, “You go first,” with a grin so big I would need both hands to hold it.

———

Denny is a writer, actor and musician living in New York City.

[northlight14]

Not so alone after all

After a lot of enbyphobic comments are made in Virgils class, zie retreat to the bathroom to have a panic attack. Zie is then found by a student who is able to help zim though it.

TW: enbyphobia, internalized enbyphobia, panic attacks, cursing

 Ships: analogical (platonic or romantic)

Virgil wandered into zir biology lesson, already ready for it to be over. Zie didn’t exactly hate the lesson but it was second last period and zie sat with enough assholes to make the lesson unbearable. At this point, Virgil just really wanted to go home.

 Virgil took zir seat and silently waited for the lesson to start as the other students came pouring in, speaking loudly over each other as they did so. The teacher, Miss Richie, did the register and then got on with todays topic: DNA. Virgil half paid attention as the teacher went on.

 Eventually, Miss Richie started talking about chromosomes. “There are only 2 combinations of chromosomes, XX and XY. Your chromosomes are the thing that determine your gender.” That bit really pissed Virgil off. Zie got that this was high school biology and things have to be massively simplified but that was just straight-up incorrect, on multiple levels. There were so many other types of chromosome combinations and even if there weren’t, chromosomes have never dictated gender. Heck, they sometimes didn’t even dictate the persons biological sex! Zie considered for a moment saying something, but zir anxiety decided against it.

 A boy sitting in the back of the class raised his hand “Miss, what about trans people and all that?” Virgil suddenly felt uneasy. Zie knew all too well the opinions of zir classmates and this conversation could only lead to a bad road.

 “Well, trans people can have surgeries to change their outward appearance but the chromosomes can’t be changed.” Miss Richie answered simply. Virgil prayed that would be the end of it. Zie had only recently been able to admit to zirself that zie’s genderqueer and the idea of telling anyone else made zim feel like all the air had been knocked out of zir lungs. Virgil also knew that zie had a long way to go towards self-acceptance. That means that any ignorant comments would be made without the knowledge that they were talking about someone in room (not like that ever-stopped ignorant teens before) and zie definitely didn’t have the confidence to not be affected by whatever was said.

 All zie could do was hope the universe would leave zim alone this once. But, of course, the universe just couldn’t give zim a break, could it?

 “Miss, do you agree with those people who say there are more that 2 genders?” Virgil felt zirself freeze at that, cautiously waiting for the teachers answer.

 “Well, people are born biologically either male or female. However, how someone feels is different from that.” That last part was cut out by the class practically yelling their views on the subject.

 “Yeah I think there’s only 2” said the boy who originally asked the question.

 “It’s basic biology” said another girl.

 “Yeah, I identify as an attack helicopter” joked the guy sitting next to Virgil.

 And Virgil knew, zie knew, that what they were saying was all bullshit. Just a bunch of high schoolers making comments about something they were uneducated on and likely recycling what their parents had taught them. But knowing that didn’t stop all the air leaving Virgil’s lungs. It didn’t stop the shaking of zir hands in zir pockets. It didn’t stop the tears threatening to roll past zir eyes, risking making zim look like an idiot and outing zim to the whole class.

 Miss Richie continued with the lesson but Virgil wasn’t paying attention. Zie was too focused on getting zir breathing under control while simultaneously trying to mask zir distress from the rest of the class. Virgil just desperately wanted to leave, get as far away from this room and these people as possible. But zie knew it would look too suspicious if zie asked to go to the bathroom right after what had just been said. So zie just sat there until the lesson was over before quickly shoving all zir stuff in zir bag and dashing off to the nearest bathroom.

 There didn’t seem to be anyone in there (although it was kind of hard to tell as the edges of zir sight were very blurry) so zie collapsed against the wall and slid zir back down to sit on the floor. Virgil gasped for air but it didn’t seem to be much use. Not with zir brain screaming at them.

 You’re going to have to see a lot of those students for last period!

What’s gonna happen next biology lesson?!

Or when you come out?!

Why are you even having an anxiety attack over this?!

You’re just being an attention seeker!

You’re probably not even genderqueer! You’re probably just a cis guy wanting to be special!

 Virgil was crying now, hugging zir legs close to zir chest and hiding zir face.

 Pathetic! You’re so pathetic!

“Hey, are you alright?” a sudden voice caused Virgil’s head to snap up. Zie was met with concerned navy-blue eyes framed by their rectangle glasses.

 Virgil wasn’t entirely sure zie could speak right now so zie shook zir head quickly. The stranger (Virgil vaguely recognized them, but the panic and tears made it difficult to see clearly) knelt down in front of zim.

 “Is it alright if I touch you?” Virgil slowly nodded, trying to focus on the calming, monotone voice. Zie felt a hand gently touch zir knee and begin to rub calming circles. “I want you to breath with me, ok? In for 4 seconds…” Virgil recognized this breathing pattern but was grateful to have someone guide zim through it. The first time Virgil didn’t quite manage to hold zir breath for the full 7 seconds but the other student adjusted accordingly and continued, Virgil managing the second time around. Soon, zie felt zirself breathing on zir own without much difficulty.

 Zie felt the stranger pull away and Virgil was able to get a proper look at them. Now zie could see the specs of light in their dark ocean eyes, few freckles along their nose were magnified by their glasses. Their dress sense was very formal, at least compared to Virgil who wore the same purple patched hoodie basically every day. Their tie was tied perfectly and matched their eyes. This was contrasted with their black polo shirt. Their dark brown hair was also brushed neatly.

 “Are you feeling better now” they asked.

 “Uh, yeah I think so. Um…thanks for helping…um?” Virgil mumbled.

 “-Logan and it was no problem. My younger brother struggles with anxiety attacks so I know what to do in these situations.”

 Logan stood up and offered Virgil a hand which zie accepted. Zie caught zir appearance in the mirror, slightly horrified at the sight of zir blood-shot eyes, red cheeks and black eye shadow running down zir face. Zie wasted no time in grabbing a makeup wipe from zir bag and attempting to make zirself look slightly presentable.

 “I don’t believe I got your name.” Virgil chuckled slightly to zirself at how formal the student spoke.

 “It’s Virgil.”

 Logan nodded. “Well Virgil, do you wish to talk about what caused you to have an anxiety attack?” Virgil immediately froze. Sure, Logan seemed chill but what if they were actually transphobic?! Or told everyone?! Or a teacher?! What if the teacher or someone else then told zir parents?! Even if they were cool, zie wasn’t ready to come out to anyone yet!

 Logan must have sensed zir hesitation because they followed it up with “If you do not wish to talk about it, that’s fine. However, I am here if you need me.”

 “Thanks.” Virgil answered simply, starting to be reminded of the reality of zir life. That zie was a lonely, questioning genderqueer in a catholic school filled with cishets, most of them who would be ready and willing to beat zim up if they knew. Sure, zie knew a few queer people but no one who was also nonbinary. The more Virgil thought about it, the more isolated zie started to feel.

 “Do you wish me to escort you to class?” Logan asked, taking zim out of zir thoughts.

 “Oh, um, no. It’s alright.” Virgil said, kind of awkwardly, scratching the back of zir neck.

 “Very well.” Logan nodded, picking up their backpack, which had been resting beside them. It was then that Virgil noticed it. A yellow, white, purple and black badge with “he/they” written on it. Virgil stared at it, stunned. Zie slowly started to feel a warmness and sense of belonging growing in zir chest.

 “Is there a problem?” Logan asked, sounding slightly confused.

 “What? Oh, no!” Virgil said quickly before smiling to zirself. “No problem at all.”

 Huh, Virgil thought to zirself guess I’m not so alone after all.

Reblogs > likes

[arceneades]

Why I Love She-Ra (2018)

I watched She-Ra after my YouTube feed had been inundated with She-Ra for a couple of years. I just sort of wanted to know what it was all about. People were talking. I was curious.

I think the first time I felt like crying was during the theme song the first time I saw it.

“We’re Gonna Win In The End!”

This was a queer show. I knew that. And... well, I grew up in the 1980s. And people, we are winning. We are winning this fucking fight with the forces of fucking darkness, some of which were in my own mind and heart, and it has been a long god damn slog but we are winning.

In the late 1990s and early 2000s, I worked for a company that published a phone book (yes, a printed book, with phone numbers in it that you could call. It was a different time, okay?) that was targeted to the gay community. Specifically, it was a yellow page directory with advertisements for restaurants, and florists, and plumbers, and towing services, and any other business that you could think of that were paying money to let gay customers know that they would be treated like fucking human beings by that business.

That book doubled in size every year for 4 years. Because we were winning.

It took decades to go from the Defense of (straight) Marriage Act to nationwide acknowledgement of marriage rights. But we got there. Because we are winning. And I care about this fight.

So, yeah. I’m in. Let’s go. We’re gonna win in the end.

The feels did not stop. I cried during “Promise”. Well, I mean, of course I did, I’m not an inhuman monster. I cried during the battle of Bright Moon. I cried for Catra when Shadow Weaver left her, when she hurt her friends, when her pain and rage tore the world apart. She just kept breaking my heart. I wanted her to make just one good decision.

She did, of course, and I cried about that too. I knew what was coming with “Corridors” but it killed me anyway, Adora’s “no, no, no” just bruised my soul.

And “Save the Cat”? Adora’s righteous fury and the power of her love for Catra... again. Tears.

Maybe it was just 2020. Maybe my emotions were just close to the surface. I don’t know. I HURT for those kids. I wanted them to be okay. I still want them to be okay.

But I also felt seen. Seen in a way that... was different.

I was a middle aged, cis-gendered, straight white male. And this show was hitting me, and hitting me hard, and I didn’t know why. I was invested in this love story. I was invested in the war. I knew they were the same thing.

Not unusual, I suppose. I’m a Jane Austen fan. I like love stories. I like it when main characters get together. I’ve read Pride & Prejudice more than twice. But I don’t feel seen when I do.

Part of it was Catra. We all probably have some Catra in us. I might have more than most. It’s taken a long time to get some of my more extreme behaviors under control, although my rage and trauma tends to direct inward, not outward.

Part of it was Adora. I love characters that reflect fierce protectiveness, a part of us that wants to stand between the universe and the people we love and say “No, You can’t hurt them. You can’t have them. They. Are. Mine.”

But hey, you know, Tony Stark has that vibe in “Avengers: Endgame” and even dies to protect what he loves and while that speaks to me, I don’t feel... seen.

Tony Stark is played by Robert Downey Jr, an actor I grew up watching. Avengers is essentially built for me to watch. Literally, I am the target market, me and the kids I’m going to bring to the theater. I don’t feel seen. Marketed to, maybe. But not seen.

Which led me to wonder why a love story about two lesbians who are too young to drink, set in a world where it is not only okay to be a teenage lesbian but it isn’t even worth commenting on, meant so very much to me.

And thinking about that reminded me of something. Which is that when I was super into Second Life, a decade or so ago, I always used a female avatar. Always.

And it felt right. Perfectly right. And I had a lot of conversations with trans people who were also using female avatars because it helped them get along with their dysphoria. A feeling I don’t have. Of course.

I mean, sure. I prefer playing female avatars in games. That’s totally a cis-het thing to do, right? You know the joke, “If I’m going to be staring at an ass, it might as well be a nice ass.”

Okay, so maybe, just maybe, I did sort of decide that I wasn’t a man during that time. I wasn’t sleeping. I was depressed. I hated my job. Totally understandable. My friends straightened me out, shamed me out of that. Maybe that wasn’t the nicest way they could have approached that but I got shamed out of it, didn’t I? If I were actually trans, that wouldn’t happen. Right?

And I like being male. Well, I like the privileges that come with being male. I like having the upper body strength, and I find other men to be sufficiently terrifying that I wouldn’t want to... take off the armor. Not around them.

Yes, maybe, just maybe, I would prefer to have sex as a woman, given the option. That doesn’t make me trans, it just means that I really feel at home around lesbians and want to be a part of their world. Totally normal cis-het feelings there. It’s not like I would actually transform into a woman if I had a magic wand. I mean, not permanently. Not all the time. Just, you know, sometimes. When I wanted to take the armor off. Just when it felt safe.

Totally. Normal. Cis-Het. Feelings.

I mean, obviously I don’t want to be a woman. I don’t want to carry breasts around, for one thing. Looks uncomfortable. I like having just muscle up there instead, thank you very much. And I’m super comfortable with short hair and a beard. It’s a good look for me. I wouldn’t want to look different. I’m happy with my hormone mix. So, there you go. I’m a boy. 

So why don’t I want to be one?

This argument has been raging in my skull forever. Am I a boy? I’m not a girl. I like being able to grow a beard. I’m as Dad a Dad as any Dad on the face of the planet. I don’t want breasts. But... I sort of do want hips.

When I first started questioning my gender, as far as I knew, there were two options. And neither of them fit. Because what I am is non-binary. A fact I would not know if Noelle had not made SPOP, and I don’t know how I can possibly thank her enough for that.

And according to the kids on the enby lesbians server, I’m a non-binary lesbian, which explains the fact that I’m on my fifth Subaru, but doesn’t explain why I don’t currently share my life with a mixed breed Labrador.

I am queer. I felt seen watching She-Ra because I was seen. On Etheria, everyone would use my pronouns. On Etheria, my friends would have helped me through my gender crisis. On Etheria, even in a war, we love and accept each other for who we are. We see each other.

We’re not on Etheria. But I believe we’ll get there.

We’re gonna win in the end.

[obsssions]

━♡ guess the 21 YEAR OLD JUNE baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because LEE JANGMI is just as EXTENDED as the month of JUNE. wait, why do they remind me of KIM JIWOO? beyond that, they seemed FAIR & APPRECIATIVE upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of MELODRAMATIC & DEFENSIVE though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX #2 / APARTMENT #0612 / FLOOR #4 ; SHE seems to have a lot going on with HER job as a ZOOKEEPER'S APPRENTICE.

hi hi hi everyone. i’m hyacinth & this little june baby goes by the name of jangmi. she is really just a few bad personality traits and needless animal facts stacked up on top of each other and wearing a trench coat. (◠﹏◠✿) i love her very much and hope you all do too ( but if you do not i understand~ she is not for everyone. dare i say, she is for NO ONE?! ) tw: death mention below the cut. please, stay safe.

pinboard ♡ stats ♡ plots

BIRTH NAME *   lee   jangmi.

NICKNAMES *     “  mimi.  ”  

BIRTHDAY *    june    12th  ,    1999.

GENDER *    cis female.

WESTERN ZODIAC SIGN *   gemini.

EASTERN ZODIAC SIGN *    tiger.

BLOOD TYPE *   ab.

HOMETOWN *   jeju  island  ,  jeju-do  ,   republic   of   korea.

FAMILY *      lee   minseok   (   father  /  bed  and  breakfast  owner  )  ,  lee   (   formerly park   )   hyejin   (   mother  /  unknown  )

SEXUAL ORIENTATION *    bisexual .

POSITIVE TRAITS *      playful     ,     endearing     ,     engaging     ,     fair     ,     &     appreciative .

NEGATIVE TRAITS *      melodramatic     ,     temperamental     ,     headstrong     ,     finicky     ,       &     defensive .

                  JANGMI grew up rather sheltered, she was the apple of her father’s eye. his only child, his best and brightest star. jangmi never knew her mother -- and her father wouldn’t speak much about her -- which caused a young jangmi to imagine that the woman lived a rather luxurious yet daring life. the girl pictured her mother as everything from a spy to a diplomat to a professor to an astronaut. wherever the girl’s interests lay, that’s where she could find her mother.

                  HOWEVER, as she grew taller and wiser with age, the questions she had about her missing mother only grew and grew. she feared asking her father outright, sure that the reason he never brought her up was due to the crushing way in which he missed her. jangmi figured it was like the sea, ever-present and unchanging. jangmi grew curious; she grew imaginative. the girl always had questions regarding anything and everything. 

                  THAT BEING SAID, she was an inquisitive child, always trying to better herself and outdo her best. she maintained good grades throughout school and tried her hardest to be friendly to everyone -- even when that came at the cost of others whispering about her behind her back, saying she was too quiet, too odd, too set in her own ways. so what if she didn’t have many friends? it had never bothered her before and it wouldn’t bother her now . . . or would it? the loneliness got to be a little much and, whenever that happened, jangmi’s mind would wander back to her mother. where was she? who was she? why isn’t she with me? these three questions -- in varying ways and phrasings -- were what kept her up at night. she needed to know, and she made it her mission to find out someday. pushing things off for future occasions became something of her forte, her bread and butter. jangmi’s problems were tomorrow’s headaches.

                  BUT TOMORROW ALWAYS CAME, didn’t it? sure enough, the sun always rose and she was always forced to face her problems head on ( although she did not want to. no, not at all. ) the girl knew it would be in her best interest to follow through, to seek out new horizons and do her best . . . but why did it require so much work? why did everything worthwhile in life cause her such stress and too many headaches? jangmi found herself working twice as hard to get half the reward as everyone else, but that was until she found her true calling.

                  ALL THAT HAD BEEN SAID about her not being the best at making friends was true. her conversational skills were nothing to write home about, and she liked to daydream her days and nights away. that didn’t mean that she was opposed to connection. no, quite the opposite, actually. jangmi craved closeness and intimacy; she wanted people to like her in the same way that she liked them so much it made her soul ache. however, she knew her limits. she knew that she wasn’t the most exciting or important or even entertaining person. it’s only so long that people will want to hear fun facts about television shows, after all. but jangmi found her calling and realized that it was calling her to get a little . . . wild.

                  SHE APPLIED FOR A JOB AT THE ZOO ON A WHIM, a late night whim -- the type that typically found her eating ramen in her room at 4 am while watching hours-long documentaries about some odd topic that she’d only been interested in for the past twenty minutes. jangmi almost didn’t answer the call to schedule an interview, out of fear that it was one of those scams where the person sounded like her father calling from jail. however, she did pick it up to find that it was the real director of the seoul grand park zoo, asking about her references and such. jangmi couldn’t believe her ears -- had she really gotten the job?

                  YES. yes, she had. all of those nights at school, where it felt like getting a biology degree was getting her nowhere paid off and she was spending her days cleaning up after the cheetahs and helping bathe the rhinos. making connections with people might have been difficult, but it was all too easy for jangmi to fall in love with the animals ( and feel like they were falling in love with her, too. ) she felt a strong bond with the sturdy elephants and how they were constantly being misunderstood. of course, they had little in common besides that, but it was enough to bring some joy into jangmi’s life. of course, with the new job meant a new city. it was goodbye to jeju and hello to seoul. never in a million, billion years could she have seen herself living it up in the big city, but here she was. she finds dallyeog through an ad in the paper and, upon seeing it for the first time, mimi felt an odd peace wash over her. perhaps this was where she was supposed to end up all along.

               OF COURSE certain things still haunted her. she’d never been this far from her father before, but he was likely very busy with the tourism season coming up and the renovations that were being done on the inn. however, she always kept coming back to her mother. what happened to her? it didn’t make sense to jangmi and she was tired of having so much in her life going right ( or seeming to be close to heading down that path ) when that -- that all important thing -- remained a mystery. so, she reaches out to her aunt, figuring that the woman will give it to her straight. aunt hyehoon never minced words and, while it bothered jangmi when she was younger, right now, she needed the sour truth more than she needed a sugar-coated lie.

                  ALAS, what she came to find out was nothing of the sort and, actually, terrifying.

                  ❝  I KILLED HER?   ❞

no wanted connections yet because that would require me to be a human being and not the animal crossing villager that i am............................. BUT please give her some friends / enemies / crushes / exes / social media besties / people she loves / people who hate her .................. you know, the usual plot types. honestly if you come to me and say “i think jangmi and my muse should try to make up their own language and be those irritating neighbors who are running around speaking their made up language” i will say “so true bestie let’s do it.” i am down for anything! replies might be slow because i have a long shift today BUT i see you all and i love you all! i do! not making that up haha!

I PROMISE I WILL BE LESS OF A MESS TOMORROW :OOOOOOOOOO

[dinahperlman-sb]

I saw [DINAH PERLMAN] at a coffee shop in [MANHATTAN] today. I forgot how much [SHE] looks like [INBAR LAVI]. They are a [THIRTY-FOUR] year old [ASSISTANT DISTRICT ATTORNEY] who’s been in NYC for [SIXTEEN YEARS (ON AND OFF)] now. Every time we run into each other, they are always [INTELLIGENT & PASSIONATE] but I’ve heard people say they can also be [SUSPICIOUS & CURT]. [FIND AN ISLAND BY BENEE] reminds me of them every time it comes on the radio. — [gabs, she/her, 24, est]

it’s gabs again! finally presenting u my sad baby bean dinah! she’s a fairly new character so she is open for any connections y’all might need! | @villagestart

tw: death, emotional abuse

about —

full name: dinah jane perlman age: 34 birthday: january 6th, 1987 sexual orientation: demisexual/heteroromantic gender: cis female pronouns: she/her

bio —

tw: death, emotional abuse

dinah was the only child of adam and davina perlman, born in rochester, new york. she grew up a happy girl, with a close bond to both of her parents, who were also happily married. as a small girl in a situation as privileged as the one she was in, she had no idea just how rare it was. she attended many classes and spent all of her free time doing activities with her parents, it was almost a childhood out of a fairytale.

DEATH TW. it was unfortunate, but very early in her life, the peaceful and loving world she’d been raised in would be ripped away from her in an instant. she was ten years old when the accident happened. it was a head-on collision, and according to many, dinah had been lucky to have survived the hit, especially with as little injuries as she did. whereas her parents hadn’t been so lucky, and had died either instantly or before reaching the hospital. 

she had only ever been close to her parents, she had never even met any extended family. so it was a surprise when her uncle, her father’s brother, stepped up and volunteered to take care of his brother’s only daughter, just as he had done with his company — as a way to honor his memory, he had said.

ABUSE TW. dinah moved into her uncle’s house in hermosa beach, california, soon after all formalities were over and done with. lifestyle wise, it wasn’t too bad of an adjustment, maybe just the warm winters were the ones that confused her the most. but everything else... it was a very chaotic change in dinah’s life. to begin, her new guardians, her uncle and aunt... they weren’t nearly as kind as her parents had been. they would put her down with every chance that appeared, only to then tell her it was for her own good. not to mention they were so dead set on keeping up this... perfect family façade with her uncle being the new ceo of the family company and whatnot, especially when she knew how they spoke of everyone involved behind their backs, how they acted with each other behind the scenes... all the yelling, the blaming. it made for a very confused young dinah, when it came to social interactions.

dinah’s only saving grace growing up in california was her cousin, natalie. the two were close in age, and she found solace in the girl. natalie reminded her a little bit of what her life had been like in upstate new york, she had this soft character that reminded her of her mother. despite going through the same stuff, natalie had always chosen to be kind and remain herself, so she wouldn’t become bitter like her parents had. so the girls were best friends, and in all formality, they were like sisters.

in high school, dinah had no problems making friends — but there was always something missing. she had learned how to treat people and have them like her from her new family, but she had never really been able to have a connection like the one she had with her parents in her early youth. until alexander came around. he was going through a whole new kind of shit that dinah couldn’t quite grasp, but she understood the motions of grieving and losing someone you love. they became close friends, and eventually, dinah’s first serious relationship.

despite her new family’s thoughts, she moved to new york city with alex with the premise of going to college. it wasn’t a complete lie, but it was also an excuse to leave that home and build something with her love, something that could become what she had had in her childhood, to her future children. it all seemed like it was falling into place: her degree in psychology and an engagement to the love of her life.

of course though, based on past experiences, dinah had some suspicion with how well her life was going. it usually ended up a preface to something terrible, something she had no control over. and well, her suspicions ended up being correct — while she attended law school, her previously perfect relationship with alex quickly deteriorated... until there was nothing else to do. and the engagement ended fairly quickly after she realized they had reached that point of no return. 

very much in her feelings about the failed engagement, dinah began refusing the love and care natalie would always offer. it came as something hypocritical to her, as she seemed to be so happy with her partner, that her parents seemed to love so very much. why couldn’t they have supported her, too? and why hadn’t natalie defended her?

DEATH TW. the woman decided to stay in new york despite the clusterfuck that it had become, dinah refused to make any appearances in california, she hadn’t even attended natalie’s baby’s birth. but she would soon regret her choices, as a year or so after the baby’s birth, dinah received the news that both the baby and nat had died in a car crash. of all things, a fucking car crash. part of her felt like she held some curse, and maybe that was why alexander had fallen out of love with her so quickly.

these kind of situations will harden up anyone. the woman placed her focus almost entirely on her work, doing some paralegal work in a number of offices, until reaching the district attorney’s office, recently getting the job as an assistant district attorney.

after natalie’s death, dinah actually came to learn that her relationship with her baby’s dad wasn’t as accepted with their family as she had first thought (which infuriated her. how could she not have known? they did the same to her!) and how little her uncle seemed to care. how he was mostly angry at the inconvenience. since then, there’s been some alarm bell ringing every time she has to be in contact with the man. she’s turning a blind eye to the suspicion, but she’s starting to think that her parents’ death was way too similar to natalie’s.

 headcanons —

dinah has tried to channel her negative energy since losing natalie into self-defense. she’s proficient in krav maga and kickboxing!

very recently though, she realized aggression wasn’t the best way for her to go about things (although self-defense has proven to be useful in the city and in the courtrooms), dinah found a healthier way for her to let out her energy: dancing. nothing fancy, she attends some classes and loves throwing it back on the weekends lmao

her apartment complex doesn’t allow pets, but she’s befriended a feral cat that she feeds and pets every so often. still needs a name for the cat.

[dock-at-the-port]

𝔏𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔞 𝔜𝔲

｢ GEMMA CHAN, CIS FEMALE, 35, SHE/HER ｣ ⟨ ✽ ⟩ hey, you haven’t bumped into Lucia Yu lately, have you? they have been living here for the past 6 months and during that time, locals have gotten to know them as generous & dedicated. a little birdie told me they can be quite naive & neurotic though. explains why they’re a baker. they really remind me of the smell of freshly baked bread, dinner by candlelight, and warm hugs. if you’re ever looking for them, i bet you can find them around Māma’s.

further information under the cut;

[TWs: undetailed discussion of an accident, death, and grief]

- Lucia was born in a small flat in Southend-on-Sea, and named for the island country where her parents found love. Hau Lin Yu and Miles Haywood happened to meet at a resort - she was there on a volunteer project, while he was there for a wedding - and never quite forgot each other. For years after what they both thought would be a brief, fondly-remembered fling, they exchanged letters and parcels, until they eventually realised they couldn’t be without one another. After one trip together in England, and then another in China, Miles returned home and mailed off an engagement ring the same day he returned.

- Love was all Lucia knew in her infancy. Her parents were unendingly besotted with one another, and although her father’s parents hadn’t taken so kindly to the union, Lucia’s maternal grandparents fawned over her from a distance. Money was often tight; her mother was a schoolteacher, while her father was a postman, but rarely did anything feel missing in Lucia’s early years. She was a gregarious little girl, friendly to all and enthused by the world around her, with her loving parents encouraging and shielding her all the while.

- Food was at the heart of their household. Lucia first learned to cook alongside her dad, who often finished work far earlier than her mum. He would sit her on the counter and let her be his little helper, passing ingredients and utensils, narrating everything as he went until the meal was done, and they could all enjoy it together. The kitchen was a place to share yourself with others, he would tell her - the route to the heart would always lead through the stomach. On weekends, her mother would still wake up early, and together they’d make breakfast - pancakes in silly shapes that they’d decorate together, bacon and egg smiles, the works. Preparing food was not only to show your love to others, but to yourself. There was no greater act of self-nurturing than preparing a meal or a treat to enjoy. Baking came next, mostly at the behest of her grandmother, who often mailed over packages of delicious Chinese treats rarely found on the coast of England.

- Lucia’s experiences in school were a mixed bag. Friends came and went, often fighting over petty things like borrowed toys and losing games, which left her in the lurch - conflict of that sort was new to her. Her family couldn’t afford all the latest gadgets and crazes, and so there were moments where she felt a bit left out, but her kind and outgoing ways won over most people in the end. The occasional class bully would pull her hair and call her names, but she had friends to fall back on and a family who soothed all woes - what more could she want?

- ...Well, kinder teachers, perhaps. It took a grand total of 15 years for anybody to realise that Lucia was dyslexic. Up until then, she’d heard the same things over and over - she needed to try harder, she just had to apply herself, maybe if she talked a little less in class and raised her hand a little more, she wouldn’t be so stupid. The diagnosis almost felt like too little too late; sure, she’d get extra time for her GCSEs, but her confidence in her own intelligence wouldn’t be so simply won back.

- Still, Lucia spent those formative years growing and learning, in and outside of the British education system. The most significant milestone of which was her first visit to her grandparents in Yantai, China. Her Mandarin was shaky at that point, but her family were warm and welcoming. Her grandfather worked on the docks and knew the town inside and out; immediately, she was the apple of his eye, and all of his fellow retired fishermen knew it. Going out in one of the old boats was a particular highlight - one they’d promised to keep a secret for the rest of their days, lest her grandmother had a fit on finding out. Her grandmother was absolutely the head of their household, but she led it with love first, something she had clearly passed down through the generations. The recipes, however, might have skipped one. Lucia’s mother wasn’t much of a baker, but her grandmother was, and they spent a large part of their visit together in the kitchen. Lucia was a natural, apparently - she had a patient, delicate touch, and plenty of treats to take home with her once all was said and done. Those plane tickets were expensive, but Lucia left with a solemn promise that they’d meet again, as soon as they had the means between them.

- When they returned home, Lucia’s mother decided baking would be a weekly tradition, since her daughter took such a shine to it. Being in the kitchen together became all the more sacred; now, it tied Lucia to her heritage as well. Lucia’s family had grown, their connections had deepened, and everything else felt secondary.

- Baking went from a weekly tradition, to a way of life. First it was the occasional school fundraising event, next it was friend’s birthday cakes, next it was their parents offering money for cakes of their own for parties and the like, then neighbours, until she was almost overrun. Her mum would help - although by that point, her involvement stopped at pitching ideas for decorations, and helping with the dishes afterwards. Her father, proud as ever, snuck supplies home from work to help with deliveries, and Lucia knew what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

- Academics had always been a bit of a struggle for Lucia as a result of her dyslexia, but that wasn’t so much of a deciding factor for culinary school. The day her acceptance letter from Le Cordon Bleu London arrived was a whirlwind, filled with celebration and joy, long phonecalls with her grandparents and, for the first time in a long time, a cake she didn’t have to make. Her mother had been practicing, apparently - sneaking in attempts here and there, until she finally managed to make a cake of her own. Lucia took a photo of it, one she framed and hung up in her new student accommodation with teary eyes, after a watery farewell from her family. It was the first time she’d ever been away from them, and although the programme was only meant to take 9 months, she knew she’d spend it with a heavy heart.

- Things grew heavier still when, one Tuesday evening, her weekly call home wasn’t answered. Her friends told her it was probably nothing, they were just caught up somewhere, she should just join them for dinner and forget about it - but she knew something wasn’t right. Her fears held true, and finally at two in the morning, one of her phonecalls received an answer. There was an accident, her father told her, through words he could barely string together; her mother hadn’t made it. The only consolation they had was that the paramedics suspected it had been quick for her.

- Despite a wealth of encouragement and support, finishing the programme was just too much. Her father welcomed her home with as much joy as he could muster for somebody suddenly without his soulmate for the first time in years, and together, the two tried to figure out where they fit in the world without its centre. Most of Lucia’s days for the following month involved waking up, making sure her father ate, and crawling back into bed with no further sense of how to go on.

- The funeral was full of friends and family, including Lucia’s grandparents. Being with them felt like home again - and for the first time in a long time, Lucia felt warm in their arms. She felt loved, cared for, like she hadn’t lost everything - and it seemed she and her father did the same for them. A week passed with them staying, and then another, and eventually it was decided; they were family. They had to stay. The elders sold their home, pooled together what savings they had, and emigrated for good. It was nice, to have their constant presence around. It took a year for her father to smile like he meant it at all again, but he got there, and they still had each other.

- Eventually, Lucia realised she had to start working - but baking didn’t feel like an option anymore. It would be years until her grandmother managed to convince her to try it again, and in the meantime, her father knew their local post office was looking for more clerks. She started up, and didn’t look back.

- It wasn’t until she came home from work one evening to find her grandmother baking with her mother’s favourite CD playing in the background (an ABBA album, of course,) that Lucia returned to her rightful place. With a gentle goading, and the revelation that her grandmother baked to feel more connected to her family. It wasn’t long until the rest of the family joined in, rolling out pastry and singing the lyrics they knew, until they’d completed a tray of egg custard tarts with candles in their centre. It felt like the right way to celebrate her late mother’s birthday.

- With her passion rekindled and slowly catching alight, Lucia began indulging in her baking as a hobby once more. It was almost the same spiral as before - it started off with the occasional treat she shared with her coworkers, then she was the designated cake-provider for any work celebrations, then for their families and friends… So on and so forth, until everybody around her was raving about it. She didn’t think of pursuing it any further until one day, before she clocked out for the evening, her coworker Linda stuffed a stack of papers in her hands, and told her she wasn’t allowed to leave until it was all filled out. By 6pm that evening Lucia had completed an application for a popular baking TV show, and mailed it in under the assumption she’d never hear from them again.

- But hear from them she did. One very unexpected phone call later, the cameras turned up at her door, ready to collect some B-roll footage of her doing what she did best. That summer, the competition began, and by its end Lucia had a diverse range of lifelong friends, and a trophy she’d keep forever alongside that framed picture of her mum’s homemade cake. Lucia made quite a name for herself during her time on the show too - her habit of humming as she went and getting distracted by helping out her competitors earned her quite a bit of public favour, along with her Chinese twists on British classics, and vice versa. There were upsides and downsides to being a household name throughout the UK - her life story being close to common knowledge, and strangers asking her about her mother was a particularly strange drawback - but the opportunities it presented to her were invaluable. The most tempting of which was the offer of her own show on the Food Network, but she couldn’t possibly leave her family and jet off to the states… Could she?

- They insisted. The anxiety Lucia felt leaving her family behind for the second time in her life was gargantuan, but they wouldn’t hear of her staying behind to take care of them any longer. They had each other, and they’d still have her - her grandparents would figure out videocalls eventually, and they’d be watching every second of her show.

- America was very different to England, or even Yantai, and working on her own show was demonstrably different to competing in the last one. Hair, makeup, scripts, assistants following her around, taking care of her prep work, keeping her on a schedule she didn’t get to make. Hell, they insisted on changing her name - Lucy Yu’s Desserts of the World just had a better ring to it than Lucia did - and she went along with it, keen to live up to her promises. Filming and baking was fine, but everything else felt like a little bit too much. She was lonely too, aside from the few hours she managed to sneak to herself to share with her family, and Lucia found herself longing for something more.

- [WC incoming!] Ever since she was a little girl Lucia wanted to find her soulmate, the same way her mother and father had, and she was convinced she’d achieved that the day she first appeared on a late night talkshow. She’d gone on stage grinning like a giddy schoolgirl, and on more than one occasion during the interview she’d gotten distracted, thinking of them, even though they’d only just met. Her management gave her hell for it later, but she still had their number in her pocket - she sent a text, they set their first date, and the rest was history.

- For three years, Lucia lived in bliss. The first season of her show went over phenomenally, and she secured a contract for two more before it had even finished airing. As a result, she had enough to fly her family over to visit, and to make sure they lived comfortably for the rest of their days. They were proud, she was in love - she missed her mother dearly, but those emotions had a place in her life. Everything had - including the engagement ring she’d taken to carry around in her back pocket.

- She never got to use it. She wasn’t sure what happened - everything had seemed so perfect until they turned around and told her they couldn’t do it anymore. She just wasn’t an option, or something like that; honestly, with her heart pounding in her throat, she could barely piece together the reasons she was given, let alone her heart. She was in the midst of filming the third season at the time, and the following week when the idea of her contract being extended floated her way, she declined. The press were everywhere, swarming her, lapping up her tragedy for clicks and views - Lucia had never known anger quite like it. LA didn’t feel safe anymore, and her heartbreak kept it from feeling like home. Their name was on the lease, and they wouldn’t answer her calls, but she knew she had to move. Once again, Lucia packed up, and decided to focus on the love of her life that she could actually trust: her baking.

- There were properties all over the country she could have chosen, but Port Briar fit just right. The coast reminded her both of Yantai and Southend-on-Sea, the same way it did for her family. The apartment above the property was big enough for them all, and they were perfectly eager to help her launch something of her very own. It was another year in the making, of her and her father flying back and forth to renovate the place, and her grandmother poring over old and new family recipes, but before too long, Māma’s was open for business.

- Māma’s is a quaint, family owned bakery and cafe. Located on Dalry hill t hey serve a mixture of sweet treats from different parts of the globe, with a rotating treat of the week shelf to keep regulars coming back for something new - but their specialties are British and Chinese classics, with a few American favourites sprinkled in for good measure. With a range of delicious desserts for all occasions, and enough hot drinks to soothe all of Port Briar through the winter, Māma’s is slowly cementing itself as a must-visit spot amongst residents and tourists alike.

[that-damn-girl]

(7) Bucky and The Bed

Completed

Chapter 6

Bucky and The Bed Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (cis)fem!reader

Words: 4000+

Summary: You and Bucky are stranded in the middle of a snowy nowhere when there is an 'electronic blackout' during your mission. With no back ups or any way to contact your team, you take refuge from the worsening weather in the only cabin you find  in miles. Not to mention, with no power, Bucky has become your personal heater and there's only one bed.

Chapter type: Soft smut. Fluff. Teasing.

Chapter/Trigger warning: Smut. 18+ only please. Language.

A/N: Thank you for continuing to read this series. Hope you like this part!

Laying on your side, as consciousness slowly sipped into you, you noticed a few things around you before you could open your eyes. A heavy arm laid on your middle, not exactly clutching you in its grasp, but rather just holding you close, safe and sound in its hold. A warmth, fulfilling and rich, cocooned your body. Low and soft, broken moans and grunts poured right into your ears from behind as short gusts of warm breath tickled your cartilage.

Most prominent of them all though, was the hard length nestled bare in between the soft skin of your butt cheeks. The gentle rutting of Bucky's cock on your ass ignited a desire to flow through you. Although half asleep, the feel of it all was too overwhelming to ignore. Half, incomplete moans in your ears in his morning gravely voice were much more delicious than ever.

Somewhere in the back of your head, you could sense that he wasn't awake, grooving his member against you in his sleep. That somehow made it that much more intimate, to know that even when unconscious, he sought for you and your warmth. That even when unconscious, in his most vulnerable state, he trusted you with every part of himself.

You couldn't help but buck your hips against Bucky, relishing in the way the grunts behind you sounded heavier with much more feels. It only caused your core to tighten, a heat to pool between your thighs. Even though you weren't fully awake yet, your brain still unconscious enough to not remember much in clear details, your sleep laced mind knew who it was behind you. Holding you closely, giving you a sense of security,  making a wave a pleasure course through you and he pleasured himself. Almost as if thinking of anyone else but him in that moment would feel wrong.

"Bucky," you moaned as he humped harder against you. Hearing your sweet voice calling out his name sinfully, something propelled him to clutch his arm tighter around you and bring your behind closer to his. As his length pressed more firmly against you, telling you just how hard he was, you unintendedly moaned louder. 

His name leaving your lips in such an erotic manner gradually roused him from his sleep. As the haziness cleared from his mind, Bucky immediately stopped what he was doing, quite ashamed of himself for taking advantage of you like that, wondering what he started doing it in the first place. 

Bucky noticed the feel of your smooth skin bare under his touch. He couldn't help but drag his curious hands across your torso but stopped when his fingers touched the underside of your breasts. He blushed quite hard too. Despite the blankets covering your forms, he could see your bare shoulders peeking from underneath. 

He blushed even harder as he realised neither you nor him had any layers on beneath the blankets. It didn't help his case when he realised his member was settled quite snugly between your ass cheeks.

Bucky wrecked his mind to remember why the pair of you were in such a state of undress, until the last night came back to him. The confessions, the moans, the words, everything came rushing to him, to remind him how lucky of a man you had made him by accepting to be his girl. In an instant he was overjoyed. Overjoyed to know that all of it was real, to know that none of it was a dream. 

"Y/N," he said, bending down to place a trail of soft loving kisses on your shoulder and along the curve of your neck. 

Now nearly awake, you tilted your head to give him more space and gingerly brought his arm from underneath your breasts to upon it. Taking the hint, he kneaded and softly squeezed your boobs. You bucked your hips against his again, but his hands stopped you from taking anything further.

He let out a sigh before turned you on your back and looked deeply into your eyes. For some reason, his eyes looked regretful to you, "I am sorry, Y/N. I didn't know I was doing it in my sleep. I don't want you to think that I was taking your advantage or anything. You have to know I'd never do anything like that-"

Smushing his face between your palms, you quickly cut him off with a kiss. Bucky was taken aback for a second, but he took a hold of his bearings and kissed you back passionately. A hand looped around your waist and he rubbed your back which led him to palm your ass fondly.

You pulled back and leaned on your elbows to look at him in the eyes. How much more perfect could a man be? Caressing his cheek, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, "I was enjoying it, Bucky. And I know you'd never do anything of the sort. Why do you always forget that I told you," you leaned forward and pecked him on the lips slowly, "I trust you."

Bucky smiled widely in between short kisses, thanking his stars for finally letting him have someone as precious as you. You kept kissing each other for a while, drunk on the newfound love between you two. Hands roamed the other's body slowly, sensually, appreciatively.

Bucky had never been as close to heaven as he had been in that moment. His warm body bare against yours, not separated by any nonsensical thing; you in his arms, taking comfort in his hold while giving him some too. Kissing you, touching you, loving you. Really, this was no less than heaven for him.

You trying to rub your thigh against his erection was a wonderful bonus.

Putting you back on your back, Bucky slightly leaned over you as he laid on his side. You swore you could see stars alone from the way his plump lips kissed you, his tongue caressing your inside your mouth.

"Can I touch you this way?" You asked, carefully laying a hand on his shaft under the blankets. 

Bucky drew in a sharp breath at the touch, a bit surprised but loving it nonetheless. "Trust me, it’s more than okay," he said. He was about to ask you something too, but you beat him to it.

"You can touch me anywhere anyway you want to, really. I'm comfortable with it as long as you are." 

You delicately wrapped your palm around him and started pumping him slowly. His member throbbed under your touch, making you feel immensely good for having such an effect on him. Gently sweeping your thumb over his head, you used the little beads of precum to lubricate his shaft. Bucky hid his face in the crook of your neck as you did so, a lewd Ah escaping his lips.

He soon brought his fingers downward to your sex. Running them through your slit and finding it wet, he seductively whispered in your ear, "All of this for me, doll?" 

"Everything, for you." You whispered back. He collected your on his fingers before taking them up to your clit, stroking it tenderly, making you only wetter by the second. You bit your lips as a new wave of desire coursed through you. 

You focused on pleasuring Bucky as good as he pleasured you. Holding his member a little more tightly, you flicked your wrists with every up and down movement as much as your cramped up position allowed. Your thumb caressed his head every so often, making him moan obscenely every time you did that.

And his moans, oh god his moans.

If you thought his morning voice was sexy, his moans and grunts were another level entirely. Listening to his gruff, gravely voice repeat your name  with Ohs and Ahs - uncontrolled, purely on instinct, just for your ears, was a new high for you.

Your need to see him was just as bad as your need to hear him. Gripping the blankets with your free hand, you pushed them away from yourselves as your legs worked on kicking them off. Cool chilly air hit your exposed heated skin when Bucky wasn't covering you in a much more merciless manner than you had anticipated. But one look down your body to glance at his member being stimulated by you; to glance at the drops of precum escaping his slit as you worked on him was worth it.

It didn't last though. You couldn't help closing your eyes and tipping your head back in pleasure as Bucky stepped up his game. Switching between massaging your sensitive nub in various invisible patterns, he had already increased his pace as he put just the right amount of pressure. When you pushed the blankets off of you though, it was a different story. 

He raised his head from your neck to glimpse down where you stroked him and he did to you. Realising that you liked watching it as you played with his shaft, that you loved to see his thick throbbing member let slip precum under your touch, it did something to him, igniting something raw and carnal inside him. 

In an instant he worked his fingers harder and faster on your sensitive clit. Increasing his pace further, he put all of himself into stimulating you, bringing you closer to the edge. The world, the surroundings, nothing mattered to him. It was you and only you on his mind. Being ravished under his fingers, seeking him and his touch to achieve that ultimate goal. 

Closing your eyes, you relished in the feels Bucky was giving you. The scent of your arousal lingered heavily in the air. His full lips attached to your neck, lightly nibbling and sucking the most sensitive of parts. Overwhelmed with all the sensations being bestowed upon your body, you desperately needed to clutch onto something, to keep yourself anchored to the real world. With nothing else to hold onto, you bunched up the sheets in your hand.

Bucky noticed the pace of your hands on his cock faltering for a few moments as your moans rose in volume. He didn't mind it though. It must mean he was doing something right. He was quite proud of it.

"Bucky- ah - it feels so good," you said with your eyes shut tight, desperately trying to focus on pumping Bucky but his fingers worked so well on your pearl that it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

"You are so good," Bucky mumbled in your ear before littering your neck with hot wet kisses, his warm breath pounding your neck. He loved listening to the gorans and mewls falling out of your lips, loved knowing that he was the reason behind them.

The coil in your belly was tightening more and more, yearning to finally be able to let go. You arced your back as he played with your clit, massaging it with expert roll of his fingers. It was dizzying, the rush of feels which followed soon after. 

Moaning helplessly, you let the tension in your abdomen uncoil as you came in Bucky's fingers under his ministrations. Pleasure coursed through your veins hot and fast as you withered next to him.

Your hand unintentionally gripped Bucky's cock harder. Bucky groaned, unbelieving how good it felt. His fingers rubbed you some more, determined to prolong your orgasm. You mewled as his fingers kept teasing you, stretching your orgasm.

You stroked him faster, driven to get him to orgasm as well, deploying all the tricks you could think of. You whispered sweet nothings into his ear, telling him how good he had made you fell, how good you planned to make him feel. 

Reaching the edge himself, Bucky bucked his hips into your hand, desperately awaiting to climax, your touch bringing nothing but delight to him. A few strokes later, Bucky too let himself go, finally tipping over the edge, groaning obscenely. Hot thick ropes of his cum landed on your torso in short bursts, painting your skin with his release.

Panting heavily, you both tried to calm yourselves down from your high. You turned to look at Bucky. Smiling candidly, wide and bright, his expression mirrored your own. Despite your cum-stained selves, the moment felt so raw, so pure, it was heartwarming to say the least. If it were possible, you had already lost yourself in his eyes.

None of you had to say anything to know how wonderful it had been for the other. Your gazes showed everything there was to be known. Holding your hand in his, he interlaced your fingers with his before bringing them close his lips and softly kissing your knuckles. 

Something tugged at your heart from the way he looked at you, his gaze looking deep into your soul with all the love he held for you. Only you. As if you'd hung the moon and the stars, as if you'd bring them to him if he asked you to. Glancing into his gentle blue orbs, you realised you just might. 

Overwhelmed once again with the intensity of his gaze, your chest rose and fell and breaths quickened. And here you thought you were calming yourself down. But how could you, when he was looking at you so lovingly? You knew you were in love with this man. 

But now you knew you were deeply and irrevocably in love with this man.

You couldn't, however, tell him that. Not outright, anyway. While you wanted more, so much more, things needed to be escalated at his pace. His comfort was just as important as yours. If he wanted your relationship to go slow, it'd go slow. Moreover, you were much too afraid to lose something as precious as your and his bond.

Afraid you'd do something, or rather say something you'd regret later, you attempted to divert his attention from your face. Swiping his cum from your skin on your finger, you lewdly licked his cum off your finger, all the while holding his gaze, appreciating the tangy yet sweet taste of him in your moan. 

Watching you, Bucky groaned, "You're going to be the death of me," Cupping your face, he smashed his lips against yours. The kiss was rather hard, hot and heated, and you loved every second of it.

Pulling back, gleeful, bashful smiles once again took a hold of his handsome face. You couldn’t help but let them take their hold on you too. 

You were happy. You were very happy, in fact. But the universe was set on making you feel anything but that.

The near empty cupboards in the kitchen stared back at you, as if mocking and teasing you, challanging  you to somehow improve their state. From the scarce number of jars and cans there were, at least half of them were already expired or not at all edible. What little food was left, it was just that. Little. 

Since day one you and Bucky tried to ration what was left, but even then the daily rations were too small. Normally, the lack of food wouldn’t have bothered you much. Though it wasn’t ideal, you could’ve hunted wild animals to survive. However, where you were stuck seemed to have little to no fauna. You only consoled yourself by reminding your panic stricken mind that if FRIDAY's calculations were true, you'd only have to for half a week more to get back home. 

If.

You didn't doubt Tony's creation, god you didn't at all. But your brain only conjured the worst case scenarios every time you thought about getting out of your predicament. 

You were soon put out of your misery as a pair of strong familiar hands closed around your waist from behind. The wall of Bucky's body pressed firmly against your back. His head dipped to place soft comforting kisses on the curve of your neck, his long locks ticking your skin as he did so. Leaning back against him, encompassing your arms around his own, bending your neck, you greedily took the calm and comfort his presence provided you. 

Oh what a pleasure it was for Bucky! To be able to hold you, cherish you in his arms as and when he desired too. He didn't need to restrain his a-little-too-friendly touches anymore, fearing you'd deem him too forward. He could kiss you sweetly and passionately to his heart's content - and receive the same from you.

A heaven, really.

Resting his head in the hollow of your shoulder, Bucky tightened his arms around you some more. He didn't like the thick heavy layers which were separating you from him. He much preferred feeling your skin against his, your warmth pressed into him without any barriers. If you needed anything thick and heavy, it should've been him covering your body like in the between the sheets that morning, or the night before.

Shaking his head mentally to clear off the creeping ideas, Bucky wondered since when he had become so possessive and territorial. But you were in his arms, safe and sound. It was all that mattered.

"Hey there, is something wrong?" he asked, remembering you seemed distressed a few seconds ago.

"It's-" you started, but stopped yourself before you could continue. Maybe you were worrying for nothing. Maybe all would turn out well and fine as FRIDAY had said. You didn't want to worry Bucky too with your panic laced thoughts. "It's nothing."

Even you could tell how unconvincing that sounded. Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, his voice taking a serious note, "You know you can talk to me, right, doll? You can tell me if something's worrying you."

You leaned into him more, thankful for his comforting presence behind you. "It's probably nothing, but…" And you proceeded to tell him all about all your worries.

Bucky turned you around, keeping his hands on the small of your back. Cradling your face in his metal palm, he said, "It's gonna be alright. Don't worry about it. Everything's gonna be fine."

You were about to say something, but he continued, "Even if things don't turn out as they're supposed to, we'll find another way. We'll work something out. We always do." Looking softly into your eyes, he added in a gentle voice, "I'll take care of you."

Smiling, you circled your arms around his torso and laid your head on his chest, "I know, me too." 

Bucky kissed your head before tucking your head under his chin, "I know you will."

Snuggling closer to the warmth he offered, you said, "It's just so fucking cold." 

"Well, I know of a few things that we could do to keep ourselves warm." 

Pulling back a little, you tilted your head up towards him, your mind thinking of one thing only to keep yourselves 'warm', "You are one insatiable man, Bucky. And I'm loving it."

Bucky looked at you amusingly, his sugary sweet smile replaced by a smug one. Bucky lowly spoke in your ear, "As much as I'd like to undress you and take you apart by my fingers right here, right now, again," Your cheeks flushed as you remembered the fun you'd had that morning right after your supposed breakfast, "I didn't mean that." 

Looking at your confused face, totally not admiring how cute you looked, he continued, "I meant we could spar. It's been a while, you know?"

Cheeks still tinged with your blush for taking his words in a completely different way, you nodded your agreement and moved to the living room. The couch was already moved towards the fireplace, leaving which there really wasn't much furniture to move around to get some open space in the middle. Shrugging off a few layers, you stretched - Bucky totally didn't ogle at your ass while you did so, and started sparring with him.

The atmosphere was light and fun like it had always been with the two of you. Kicks and punches were thrown and dodged, different techniques were applied and rendered useless as each tried to out do the other. The offences were serious though, just enough to tease and enjoy the physical back and forth. After a while of dancing around each other with hits and jabs, it finally looked like one had attained the top hand.

Bucky had your head in a lock with an arm circled around your neck and another across your waist, keeping you immobilised. Though it didn't sound bad. On the contrary, you very much liked the position he had trapped you in.

"What're you gonna do now, Y/N?"

If only he knew. 

Biting your lips, you started wiggling your hips in front of his crotch, pushing your behind back and lightly twerking your hips as best as you could. Bucky wasn't hard then, but you knew if you continued like this it wouldn't take much time.

Catching onto your play, Bucky chuckled, "Oh, that's playing unfair, doll."

"Are you telling me you don't like it?" You asked with a smug smile.

"Quite far from it, baby. I love what you're doing to me." He quickly turned you around without letting you leave his grasp and swiped your leg from under you, letting you fall on the rug below - but gently, of course. "But I won't let you win because of that." He trapped you underneath him by sitting atop your torso, his weight managed on his legs while one arm pinned both your wrists above your head.

Just what you had been waiting for. Jerking your wrists and breaking your hands out of his hold, you grabbed his collar before using his weight against him, throwing him to his side. It didn't take you long to mount him just as he had mounted you before. You didn't pin his hands though, opting to lean forward and run a finger down the side of his face instead, "You sure about that, Mister?"

Flipping you on your back again, quite easily since you didn't restrain him - not that you were trying to, he took the upper hand again and fixed you under his weight. "Quite sure about that."

"Oh, just come here," Smiling unabashedly, you pulled yourself up to sit  on your hips. Your arms curled around his neck as you kissed his full lips lovingly. Though short lived, Bucky enjoyed the kiss thoroughly before he stood up, pulling you up along with him. 

Bucky was walking backwards, you hand clasped in his, dragging you to the couch for an afternoon of cuddling. When his leg hit the corner of the couch at an awfully bad angle, he realised too late he had miscalculated the distance to the couch as he tumbled to the ground with a thump and groan, his eyes contracting in pain.

"Bucky," you shrieked, eyes widening as you saw his descent. Rushing to him, you quickly knelt by his side and raised his head to your lap. "Shit, you alright?" You stroked head gently, looking for any injuries. You'd admit later you were a little too worried.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Buck muttered, "Just didn't expect that."

Suddenly he heard laughter from his side. Peeking open his eyes, he looked at you laughing hysterically. Confusion crept on his face, unsure whether you were trying to take care of him or make fun of him.

"What? What is it?"

In between laughs, you panted as you said, "The Winter Soldier, the White Wolf, one of the most skilled men to walk on this planet, undefeated by an Avenger but defeated by a rusty old couch."

As Bucky heard the irony roll off your tongue, he couldn't help but chuckle alongside too. That, however, wasn't long lived as he was once again enraptured by your beauty. The grin stayed on his lips, but for a different reason then.

Your eyes crinkled beautifully in mirth as the harmonious sound of your laugh filled the air. You were clearly enjoying yourself, while he was enjoying watching you being happy his heart thumping wildly. Looking at you in that moment, Bucky knew he'd do anything humanly possible to keep that radiant smile on your face.

Man, he really had fallen hard for you.

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Chapter 8 

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[maskved]

*inserts incoherent sentences and bad jokes here bcs u know me* shipped miray and vika straight to ketterdam for my girl sora lol so here is my intro and pls plot with me although i suck at getting to my messages, but it’s my toxic charm #yolo (making it cool again).

[ sora nam ], an [ twenty-six ] year old grisha in the little palace. she is a [ inferni ] and are known in the little palace as the [ the taciturn ]. they are known to be [ loyal ] and [ tactless ] and vaguely resemble [ kim jisoo ]. + (she’s a blacksmith sucking at her job but i’ll explain it later)

pinterest

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏  : mikasa ackerman (snk), kuroko (kuroko no basket), ty lee (atla)

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬

full name : nam sora 

age: 26

gender & pronouns : cis-female , she/her

sexuality :  bisexual

grisha type : inferni

occupation: former aerialist, blacksmith

hometown : kabu, shu han

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅

sexual harrassment tw, death tw

- her story starts the way many others would do. a girl, bright eyes and smiles born in shu han is welcomed by the world. she isn’t born into money and wealth but she the love she receives easily make up for it and she wouldn’t choose any other life.

- yet, sora knows fate has planned more for her; to widen her horizon, see the world beyond the bubble her parents raised her in. she didn’t know how but one day little sora would stand between a spellbound crowd, stretching her little body and tiptoeing to spot what had enchanted them. her eyes would set on a woman, grabbing a trapez bar and swinging through the air, so effortlessly as if it was something natural everyone was supposed to do. - and from this day on she wanted to do the same.

- it didn’t take her long, that she’d become part of a travelling circus. of course she wasn’t perfect at first but she was still a child and whatever a child would do was endearing enough to make people stay. something the owner knew.

- so it would continue until sora would perfect her craft, dreaming of becoming the woman she witnessed back then. yet, it seemed that this barely mattered and even if she became better there was something the director’s eyes, an everlasting displeasure about what it seemed like an empty everything. and how was she supposed to know what this everything was ?

- truth to be told, as always money was the culprit, the root of  greed and the catalyst for atrocious acts by a merciless man claiming it was the world that corrupted him and not his very own tainted soul. 

- it started with him wanting his artists to steal from the crowd when they were enveloped by a stilted dream. yet, his hunger would never be satisfied and soon he’d command his performers not only giving up their body for the circus but also for other purposes. fortunately, sora would only hear from it, noticing the way her friends usually so calm in the air, heights separating them from the ground would shake when they’d talk to her. yet, she could do nothing, they didn’t have a home or a place to go to. sora knew that one day she’d be the same as them and that day would soon come. and when it came moments would turn into a second. dim candle light, a spark, fire everywhere and then she’d run, not knowing what had happened, but continuing to run without looking back.

- in the back of her mind, she knew that it was her, and she shouldn’t have felt bad for getting rid of the people who tried to hurt her. yet, even she couldn’t control the fire, and it wouldn’t differntiate between her resting friends and them.

- she was a criminal, worse, grisha and she knew there was no place for them in shu han, so she planned to go to the little palace, knowing that she’d be safe her. however, even when she arrived, she couldn’t bring herself to let the truth escape from her mind, after all if she didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be real. so she lied, about everything, where she came from and what she was. and most importantly she wasn’t grisha.

- luckily, a friendly blacksmith noticed the desperate girl and without asking too much, they took pity on her, noticing the distraught look and offering her to help them out, tryign to teach her to become a blacksmith.

𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚

- though very quite in nature, almost appearing detached from any situation, sora is quite soft-hearted. taking everything to heart and probably trusting people way too easily. yet, people rarely get to know this side of hers as sora isn’t someone who usually would approach people. adding to her natural introversion, her way with words is improvable to say at least as she tends to be a little too forward. since she’d been young she only interacted with the people she grew up with and therefore did not really learn other and more polite ways to communicate. 

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

- childhood friends (can be from anywhere) she met when she was performing but they obviously couldn’t stay in touch but they were super close, someone she was supposed to steal from but they noticed it, people who are suspicious of her and think she’s a spy, people who try to actually make her a spy because she might be useful to them but also for comedic purposes she doesn’t notice it, exes for the angst !!!, relative to the people she whoops accidenally killed, friends in general, enemies, listen a first love and they meet again at the little palace, unrequited love bcs i love pain, people from the circus (pls) or someone who sneaked into the circus and witnesses the scene and almostgot killed lol

𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

- okay, i have that headcanon, that people are generally super suspicious of her. because she is constantly found lurking on the roofs of random people’s houses but also she just generally gives super suspicious vibes due to her personality

- adding to that, she claims to be a blacksmith but all the weapons she make suck tbh. ( also i have that one cute headcanon where a childhood friend (wc) taught her how to forge knives but they also didn’t know how to make them correctly and sora just assumed it was the right way and still thinks it is, so all the knives are crooked)

- also she hates being an inferni as it’ll always remind her of the incident (aka the burning circus part 1) but sometimes she also uses her abilites to cook water for her tea (bcs i need to make my muses dumb as always)

- although she’s a (former) aerilist, as elegant she migth appear in the air or when she’s doing her monkey stuff, for some reason she is the opposite *rose vc* on the ground. also that’s probably the reason teh circus owner stopped the stealing shit from ppl thing bcs sora would always accidentally expose them--

- but also here comes my kuroko inspo where ppl actually don’t notice her bcs she makes no noise until she runs into the darkling’s favourite tree or something

- also i love superstitous muses but she’s into tarot cards

- is the worst at judging people’s character. she thinks yeva is a nice person bcs she once did a card reading for her aka (yeva: “this card says grisha suck... i mean it’s not my opinion but that’s what the card says” sora: “cool that was lit, live laugh love

idk but her 

[joleness]

hello everyone! i’m glad I actually have some free time this sunday to come on & introduce myself + jolene to all you wonderful muns!! I am very excited about this group !! just a quick little introduction my name is gabbi (she/her pronouns), i am 21 years old & my timezone is cst!!

[ cis female, she/her, danielle rose russell , twenty-one ] i can’t be sure, but i think i just saw JOLENE STEVENS drive onto the parkway. don’t they know we’re not supposed to be driving on that haunted road right now? maybe it has to do with the fact that they’re so RESPONSIBLE and STUBBORN that makes them feel CONFLICTED about everything going on. i guess we could also chalk it up to the fact that they’re always reminding me of READING IN A QUIET LIBRARY, CROSSWORD PUZZLES & A RAINY SUNDAY AFTERNOON. either way, i hope they get back safely.

FULL NAME: JOLENE MARIE STEVENS

NICKNAME: JO

AGE: TWENTY ONE

GENDER/PRONOUNS: CIS-FEMALE, SHE/HER

JOB: BARISTA AT LIFE CAFE / FREELANCE WRITER

HOMETOWN: REED, VA.

ZODIAC SIGN: CAPRICORN

when reading there is a warning for mention of death & murders 

jolene stevens was born to walter & annabelle stevens on a cold winter night on january 15, 1999. the two were young, but thrilled to have a child of their own. things were going very well for the family until one night her mother picked up left the small town to expand her horizons. turns out the thrill of being a new mother only lasted her so long. that left walter and jolene on their own figuring the world out together.

the difficult part of living with a walter is that he isn’t your average father figure. he is passionate about his work and tends to throw himself into whatever he does. he’s an inventor by nature, always coming up with new gadgets and gizmos to make the world better— but from jolene’s point of view none of his inventions ever seem to be that ground breaking. with her father being the ‘town kook’ it became jolene’s responsibility at a young age to be her own parent. she would cook dinner for them, remind walter when bills were due and keep track of his well being as though he was her child. she loved her father, but he was not the easiest to live with. she always pictured herself as belle. a wonderful but quirky father who the town seemed to sweep them both under the rug as being too different.

as she grew older though people in the town started to take notice of jolene for her talents. she was a wonderful writer and a very smart girl. they would always compare her to the mother she never knew. too big for the small town she felt stuck in. even teachers of her high school would pity such a bright girl with being left taking care of her father. 

oftentimes you will see her at the town library reading a book or writing a novel no one was ever allowed to read. her dream was to become a professional writer. whether that be on her own accord or for a large newspaper. —right now her dreams seem unattainable as she works at the local coffee shop trying to save up enough money to attend university. it was no hard task getting accepted, she had wonderful grades and plenty of recommendations. the difficulty came with the financial restraints and the guilt that came from not wanting to leave her father. although, she would never share that with anyone.

when the deaths started occurring on the parkway jolene was as concerned as any rational townsperson would be, but where her conflict of the situation started was with her father. instead of throwing himself into his quirky inventions his interest then moved to solving the mystery of who done it. walter turned their basement into a detectives dream with pin boards and biographies of the victims as he tried to piece together the puzzle. jolene was worried about her father being so invested in the crimes as she didn’t want him to get into trouble.

lately as the deaths rise her father has become particularly chaotic. accusing and questioning everyone— at one point even accusing her of being the killer. she has become concerned that her father’s behavior has turned from silly inventions to something much more serious and she’s not entirely sure what to do about it. now her dream of leaving the town and moving on with her life is moving further and further away, but her mother’s actions of picking up in the middle of the night is becoming more and more appealing.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

best friends — these are jolene’s closest friends who have stood by her through thick and thin. they are not exactly who you would expect her to be friends with, but they are a tight knight group who would do anything for each other.

new friend with a secret agenda — jolene is not one for putting herself out there, but when this friend came into her life she was pleased to find that they were a joy to be around. they were always spending time together and had no problem being at the house with her dad who seemed to oftentimes scaring people off. —but lately this friend has been more interested in her father’s theories about the case and it seems to jolene that they might have befriended her for the wrong reasons. whether this is actually the case is up to the mun!

an ex — dating in high school is always hard, but as a girl with a lot on her plate jolene found it difficult to keep it going. she had too many things to do and it was too difficult to make time for a significant other. this person might still hold feeling for her or maybe they’ve moved on to someone new but there will always be that awkward “what could have been” feeling whenever jolene sees them around the town.

coworkers — pretty self explanatory !! jolene works at the modern new coffee shop in town and works quite often. they can be work friends or maybe they dislike each other because of different work ethics! up to the mun!

romantic interest — this is someone who jolene sees around town and has her eye on. their might be a few flirtations, but no matter how hard this person tries jolene will never accept their invitation for a date.

also any other plots I am totally down for these are just the first that came to mind!! like this or dm me to plot something out with your character!!

[millliad]

Writer’s Month Day 7: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 691

Warnings/Tags: Modernau!Hux/Reader, being stood up at a party, long-distance relationship, based on Taylor Swift’s “The Moment I Knew,” anxiety spiraling, Rose comforts you, reader should be gender-neutral/isn’t really described (but I’m a white, cis girl so I could have unintentionally described something that pulls you out of the story - please let me know if I do!). This could be considered a continuation of this other drabble that I wrote.

Rating: General

He said he’d be here.

Your eyes always seem to find their way back to the door, eagerly waiting for Hux to come through. Your heart leaps each time that the door opens, but the person who steps through is never the one that you’re waiting for. Although you’re glad to see them because they’re your friends, they’re not who you’re really looking forward to.

Today is your birthday, and he had promised you that he would fly out to see you tonight, after his meeting. You hadn’t seen him in months, with his busy work schedule and the fact that you live so far apart from each other.

But he had said that he’d be here hours ago. At first, you had hope – he normally was chronically early, but flights always get delayed, right? Now, you’re pretty sure that he’s not going to be here.

Your friends are happy to see you, and they greet you with warm hugs and kisses on your cheeks. They compliment your outfit, telling you how great you look. You had spent the day getting ready, picking out your favorite clothes and cosmetics and decorating the party room of your apartment complex that you had booked just for this event.

You’re prepared to push down the disappointment and deal with it later, after the party.

That is, until Rose asks you where Hux is.

You know that she’s just trying to be sweet, asking about him because she remembers that you were excited that he was coming to the party.

Maybe it’s something about the way that she asks you, or that she’s been gushing to you about her new relationship lately, but it breaks the seal on the emotions that you’ve been keeping locked up inside of you. You can’t stop the tears from leaking from your eyes. You cover your mouth as you sob, turning from her and making a quick exit to the bathroom before anyone else can notice.

You’re happy for her, you really are.

You sit on the floor of the bathroom, leaning your head against the tiled wall. It’s cool in here, and you appreciate having somewhere to cry in private.

But you feel like Hux has been distant lately, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve not been the best partner – he’s so stressed, and it feels like there’s nothing that you can do about it, he just tells you not to worry about him.

But you do – you can’t stop, in fact. It doesn’t bother you so much that he can’t attend the party. But the fact that he hasn’t said anything to you since yesterday, hasn’t responded to your text messages, hasn’t even wished you happy birthday – that’s what gets to you. You worry that something terrible has happened – his plane has crashed, he’s received a ton of new work, he’s decided that he doesn’t love you anymore –

Your bathroom angst session is interrupted by the sound of knuckles rapping against the solid wood door.

Rose calls your name, asking if you are okay. You tell her that you are fine, but she insists that you aren’t and that you let her in. You stand to open the door, eyes puffy and tears streaking down your face.

She enters the bathroom and her eyebrows furrow as assesses the situation. Rose wraps her arms around you. “I’m so sorry,” she says, rubbing your back. “You can’t keep it all bottled up, you know? You have to let it out.”

And you do. You hold onto her and cry, letting out all of the sadness that you’ve kept under wraps inside of your heart.

When you’ve slowed down and run out of tears, she helps you straighten out your outfit and clean up your face.

When she’s done, you can’t even tell that you had cried in the bathroom.

“Oh, I think it’s almost time for cake,” Rose reminds you. “They want to sing happy birthday – we should go back.”

You groan, but allow her to steer you back to the party room.

You’re not enthusiastic, but at least you’re not falling apart in the bathroom anymore.