#it’s going... well. not horribly anyway

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

He knew you worked for Senator Brown. You knew he was a Congressman, obviously. You also knew his background and the complexities that came with it. Many people in the political space turned up their noses at him, something you had a similar experience with as you were “only an assistant.” The two of you had joked about it, eventually making your way to the hotel bar and laughing over the amount of hidden toupees currently residing in the ballroom.

Instant bonding 🤝🏻

You scrambled to take out your phone and open the notes app. A rookie mistake; you usually had it open the second his meetings ended, but you had been distracted. By Bucky. 

Well what a great reason to be distracted 🤭

“The guy should treat you better. He could only keep assistants for a few weeks at a time before you.”  “How do you know that?” Bucky slid your food towards you. “Eat. You looked like you were in a hurry when I got here.”

Thank God he encourages her to eat

 You eyed him for a moment. With his hair tucked behind his ears, you could see the tenseness of his jaw and the shadow of his beard dusting above his collar. It was no secret that Bucky was alarmingly handsome in a sea of 60-year-old politicians, but you had never gotten the opportunity to see it at work. You were always too busy, and Bucky’s office was three floors down.

Truly a sight for sore eyes ��

“Oh, um, I’ve been going home around 10. It’s such a pain in the ass to get a taxi at that time, you wouldn’t believe. Uber isn’t much better, and I definitely can’t walk home in these things,” you joked, motioning to the bandaids strapped behind your heels. “It’s not so bad, though. After about a month of late nights, Brown will go on a “vacation,” and I’ll have a few weeks to reign in the chaos during normal business hours.” You were giggling as you spoke, adding air quotes and sarcasm to try to alleviate the irritated look Bucky was sporting. After a few weeks of being around him, you understood that Bucky was quieter than you, but his silence right now was pressing. Your jokes weren’t getting him to talk, so you switched gears. 

That truly sounds horrible and I'm on Bucky’s side, the jokes don't make it any better

Popping a grape in your mouth, you asked, “What are you doing up here, anyway?”  Bucky let out a breath and tapped his hand on the table. “Honestly? I came to check on you.” 

🥹🥹🥹

Bucky: Depends. Are you still at work right now?

You frowned at your phone.

 You: If I am does that mean you won’t get coffee with me?

Bucky: So you are 

Not saying also says a lot

“You’re not getting in my car if you’re calling me that,” Bucky replied, leaning down to peer out the passenger-side window. “What are you doing here?” you asked him for the second time today. “I told you, I’m driving for Uber. You called for one?” 

I respect a side hustle 🤭

“Give me a code, then. Here,” he passed you his phone, the background illuminating a small white cat. “Wait, sorry, I have to unlock it.” 

Alpine spotting!!

“You’re not asking. Now, hurry up and get in. I’ve been in the fire lane for 20 minutes and parking enforcement hates me here.” 

Haha I wonder what encounters he had with parking enforcement to earn that reputation 🤔🤭

Sliding in the car was somewhat of a mess with your bag and your jacket and the file you had meant to finish at home almost suffocating you. Bucky tried to help, grabbing items and waiting for you to buckle in before placing them by your feet. You were flustered from the transition, trying to adjust your skirt and seatbelt as Bucky reached forward to tuck a strand of hair stuck in your lip gloss behind your ear. 

I can truly feel the chaos of getting into the car with all the stuff, been there before, many times 😅

“I really didn’t mean to make you feel guilty,” you stressed to Bucky after he flipped the radio on, low music trickling in. “When I told you about staying late, I mean.”  Bucky tsked, knocking his head to the side to shoot you a lingering glance. “You didn’t, alright? This is my own problem. I just didn’t feel comfortable with you trying to find a way home so late.” “I’ve been doing it for a while and I haven’t died yet,” you attempted to joke.

Those jokes are definitely not landing with Bucky again

 “I would like to get coffee Saturday,” Bucky finally said. “If the offer still stands.”  “Of course it stands.”  You only briefly caught the half-smile that lit up his face before the light of the streets was lost to a tunnel. 

🥰🥰🥰

Coffee was relaxed and enjoyable, as it always was with Bucky. He asked a few more questions about your work, a topic he had previously not touched on. He wanted to know about your coworkers, if the interns ever helped you, how much time you got off, and in turn, you asked him about being a Congressman and if he actually enjoyed it. Both answers left the other person less than satisfied. 

Well, at least they have that in common 🥴

You hummed. “I don’t know, really. My dad was in politics, and he would only really accept my work if I was, too. He’s… not around now, but I feel like I have to stay. I’m good at it.” “I believe it. Could be good at a lot of things, though.”

Facts!

 You felt fuzzy, confused. But also nothing was confusing and you were reminded, again, how attractive the Congressman was. How attractive and how definitely off-limits he was.  It would be so taboo for Bucky to be dating an assistant. 

Fuck that!

“I was just thinking the other day how you don’t exactly fit in with the rest of Congress, but you so do! Maybe even on the young side,” you teased.  “Oh yeah?” Bucky egged on, nodding with his brows raised. “You were thinking about me?” 

I like them joking like that together 🥰

Bucky wouldn’t stop touching you.

That's great if you ask me 😅

 It could have been frequency that made you more aware of this habit of his, because Bucky had begun picking you up every time you worked late and planned coffee or lunch or even a walk at least once a weekend. So, maybe this was his norm and you were just around him more often—something you enjoyed, but also something that made feelings more difficult.

Gorl, just let it happen and enjoy!

 Bucky had seen you get yelled at a few times now, each seemingly worse than the last. He kept quiet about it, but you could tell it bothered him. He almost stepped in once—when Brown was irate at the coffee you’d gotten him and chucked it at the wall, you saw Bucky step forward from down the hall. He stopped at the slight shake of your head. You were used to the Senator throwing things, and as long as it wasn’t in your direction, it was no harm done. At least, that’s what you thought. 

Brown is truly the worst, I get why Bucky has a hard time holding back

Bucky shook his head, expression taut. “There’s gotta be something else then. You don’t deserve all of that.”  “If we’re talking about not deserving torment, I think I’m the least of our worries here, Sergeant,” you noted, knocking your shoulder against his in an attempted lightness. But when you turned to look at him, Bucky was already facing you. “I’m serious, y/n. He’s throwing things at you. I’ve stayed out of it because you told me to, but after today—” “Bucky, hey,” you calmed. “I know it seems crazy, but I know how to deal with it. I know he won’t actually do anything.” “Right now, maybe.” 

I have Avery bad feeling about this, I think Bucky’s old instincts or something might kick in when he specifically mentions "right now" 😬

“Yeah, I can.” And then you were tugged against his starched, ironed suit, his metal arm holding you close to his chest. You gasped a little at the initial contact, your heart hammering against your ribs as Bucky simply kept you there. This is dangerous, your brain reminded you, but it was also harmless, if you looked at it the right way. 

Ahhh 🥰

“You know, I’m not going to die, Bucky. I’ve dealt with this for years.” “Yeah, you keep joking about that,” he gruffly replied, the words a ghost against the top of your head. You hadn’t realized his lips were that close. “If we could keep the death jokes to a minimum, that would be great.” 

Valid

“Hey, I have other friends.” “I haven’t seen ‘em.” “Shut up,” he groaned, tugging you back in. “You can meet them as proof. Next weekend.” 

I would definitely need proof with his track record 🤭

You were only retaining about half of what he said, which was good, considering everything was an attack on you, and your work ethic, and then he even started going in on your clothes and your apartment. It must have been something really bad this time. After he was done yelling, you would check his texts and probably find a couple of mentions of divorce sprinkled in between messages with his lawyers. 

This is crazy, really unreasonable

When Bucky had asked you why you stayed, you left out that key bit of information. He was still newer to the field and didn’t need to know that Senator Brown held that over your head each time you even hinted at moving on. 

That's so fucked up! I feel so bad for her

You figured the screaming was almost over. Brown was in his 60s, so he would be getting tired. And it probably would have been over if he hadn’t checked his Apple Watch and read a text that got him fired up once more. You greatly regretted setting that up for him. 

Ah fuck

You should have moved, but you spotted Bucky in the hall, and he always distracted you. 

Understandable

The frame shot straight down, smacking you in the head and causing your knees to buckle in surprise. You fell to the ground, feeling dramatic and disoriented as the room silenced and your ears rang. You knew he wouldn’t apologize, but the continued quiet as you pushed yourself up and sat back on your haunches was almost deafening. 

Wtf that guy is a threat and holds a public office 😡

“The hell is wrong with you, huh?” Bucky shouted, rising from the floor. “You think it makes you tough to throw things at her?” Senator Brown had gone from furious to unsure, probably aware of the physical strength Bucky harbored. But, as was typical with politicians, he would not put anything before his pride. Brown righted his expression and pursed his lips. 

I really would love the old Bucky to make an appearance rn

The senator directed his attention towards you, brows raised accusingly. “Oh, so you’ve been gossiping about me, then?”  You shrank back, hand lingering where your head ached, but Bucky stepped in front of you, blocking you from Brown’s line of sight. “Hey, I’m talking to you,” Bucky seethed, jutting a finger into Brown’s chest. 

He is so protective 🥺

Brown’s head sharply turned. “That you are, Congressman. But it seems like my assistant here no longer wants her role, so this conversation is moot.”  “Congressman Barnes,” you called, authority that didn’t belong to you heavy in your tone. You were two seconds away from losing your job and being blacklisted, neither of which you could handle. Bucky froze, his anger still held in his shoulders. “Thank you for your concern, as I’m sure you were just passing by when you saw what happened, but I can assure you that it was an accident and I am fine.” 

Nooo 💔

Bucky looked over his shoulder with furrowed brows, but took a step back and dropped his hands by his sides when he caught your expression—still disheveled, but resolute in your decision. He needed to leave. You needed to save your career. You could… figure everything else out later. Probably. You took a deep breath, allowed yourself a moment as the door closed, and then you did something purposeful yourself. Even if it killed you to do so. 

At this rate Brown will kill her in one way or another for sure!

After leaving Brown’s office, he’d stormed into his own and promptly shut and locked the door. Tugging his tie away from his neck and prying the uncomfortable suit jacket from his shoulders, Bucky then began to pace. He was pissed. He was so beyond pissed. 

Understandable!!

It would have been so easy for him to knock that Senator out, and he would have deserved it. Bucky had had to watch for weeks as you were berated and screamed at, and then the line was crossed when he saw him throwing things.

Oh he so deserves it!

You hadn’t let him do anything, and then you hadn’t let him do anything again after you’d been hurt. He watched you flinch and cover your face, and even that hadn’t been enough. 

🥺🥺🥺

He promised that he’d let you take care of it, and then he went in there and almost killed Senator Brown. A replay of you falling to the ground looped in his mind, and actually Bucky didn’t feel stupid at all. All he felt was rage.  You never texted him back. And you left the building far before he could give you a ride home. When he asked your coworkers, they said you were no longer working overtime and left during normal hours. Fine. That was good, actually. Only, Bucky never saw you. 

He is so worried for her, understandably so with Brown being around!

He frequented all of your normal spots, wandered up to the top floor, and even stopped by the coffeeshop two days in a row, and you were nowhere. Avoiding him, obviously, and while he understood (he didn’t), he mostly wanted to put eyes on you. To make sure you were okay. Sure, you didn’t have a severe head injury, but it was more than that.

He didn’t understand 🥺

 “Right, right. Well, right now you have more of a pissed off face, but I guess I bring that out in you.” Sam paused and then smacked Bucky in the shoulder. “Come on, man. What’s going on, seriously? Does it have to do with that girl you were supposed to bring?” 

Uhh rough topic 😬

“Are you going to take this seriously?” Bucky accused. “‘Cause if you’re not, I’m leaving right now. I’ll leave.” “Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” Sam surrendered, raising his hands. “But really, Buck, that all sounds like dating. Tell me why she didn’t come.” 

He's not wrong 🤷🏻‍♀️

Bucky puffed out a breath. “Yeah, Senator Brown.” Sam let out a low whistle as Bucky continued. “He yells at her. Throws things. I felt like it crossed a line this week, so I guess I kinda stormed in. She threw me out and’s been avoiding me since. We had talked about it before and she said to stay out of it, but, Sam, the guy’s a dick.” “And you really like her,” Sam added casually. “And I really like her,” Bucky confirmed. 

I'm glad he has Sam to share this with

Sam paused to contemplate, though Bucky didn’t know what he could possibly offer that Bucky hadn’t already considered. He really, really liked you—more than he figured possible, especially with all of his attempts at dating since his pardon. But then you’d surprised him that night at the hotel, and he’d been hooked. He hadn’t even had the chance to tell you.

🥹🥹🥹

“Well, two things,” Sam began, leaning on the fence next to Bucky. “Sounds like she knows what she’s doing, so you should have trusted her. But—” Sam cut out as Bucky opened his mouth “—it also sounds like Brown’s a major ass with a lot of power. You don’t know what he might have over her, slimy dude like that.” “What, you mean like blackmail?”  “Maybe, who knows? You just gotta talk to her, man. Work it out.” 

Good thinking, Sam! Sometimes an outside perspective is everything ☝🏻

The charity gala had been on your calendar for the past six months, and still, nothing could have prepared you for how much you didn’t want to attend. 

Mood

You usually enjoyed events like this. You got to dress up and eat nice food, and Brown always got too drunk to remember that his assistant was even in the building. The first hour felt like work, and then the rest of the night was cosplaying as a rich politician.

That sounds kinda fun...

 That was not the case for this gala. 

...but that really doesn't 😬

Ever since the ordeal with Bucky, Senator Brown had kept you on a tight leash. Whether that was due to how much he enjoyed intimidating you or his fear that you actually were telling people he was a mean, abusive boss, didn’t matter. All that mattered was that this gala was going to suck and there was nothing you could do about it.  Making you attend this gala and not leave his side was another ploy to make you atone for your wrongdoings. Maybe the man knew how much you enjoyed these events and was taking advantage of that. 

If I thought Brown couldn't get any worse 🥲

“Check this,” Senator Brown lazily ordered, draping his coat over your arms. “And meet me back in the dining room. You get to sit right next to me.” 

🤢🤢🤢

You could feel his chest against your back even before you heard him. He shifted his arms out of his sleeves and placed a hand on your shoulder as he leaned towards the counter. Of course he smelled good. Why wouldn’t he?

For real

Bucky paused for a moment, searching the planes of your face for a beat too long before replying, “No reason to open another ticket. I’ll just leave when you leave.” “You mean you’ll leave when Brown leaves, then?” The muscle in his jaw jumped. “So, nothing's changed.”

Damn what a way to connect again 😬

“Did you seriously just throw me into a closet?” you whisper-yelled, all too aware of the staff only feet away.  “I had no choice,” he replied with the same urgency. “You were stomping off. And I didn’t throw you in here.”  “Fine. What do you want?” Bucky froze for a moment. “I… I didn’t actually think you’d stay in here. Or let me talk, if I’m being honest."

Fair haha

Your jaw fell open, an incredulous laugh slipping out. You’d almost forgotten how endearing he was in just about everything he did. Even as he stood in front of you in a full, three-piece suit, smushing you against a closet wall because he had dragged you in there with no plan, a part of your chest warmed. 

🥹🥹🥹

“Wait, hold on. I do have something to say, wait,” Bucky pleaded, metal hand—more gentle than you were sure it was ever used for—encircling your wrist. He tugged you back even closer this time, your face inches from his. “I wanted to say sorry. And… and I want to get it.” “Get it?” you parroted, trying extremely hard to ignore the dropping feeling in your gut as he stared into your eyes.  “I want to get why you stay. Why you let him treat you like that. I want to know so I can… feel okay backing off.”

God he cares so deeply about her 🥺

 “He won’t let me quit. He won’t let me work anywhere else.” Bucky blinked, a fog clearing from his heated gaze. His head jutted back an inch, and the hand that had somehow found a home on your jaw paused its ascent into your hair. “Won’t let you?”  “I’d be blacklisted.” “He can’t do that.” “He can.” 

Urgh Bucky really is naive in this and that breaks my heart, because in that moment he realizes he might really not able to help her 💔

You debated moving states, or countries, or entire career paths as you hurried into the dining room of the gala. Not only had you taken too long at the coat check, but you knew you looked completely flushed and out of it.

Maybe she should move, fake her death pin it on Brown 🤔 thinking about it I like that plan and I might know someone else who likes it and would be really helpful from experience with this lol

“Oh, don’t complain about it. Who complains about chocolate cake?” he peeved, snickering to the men on the other side of the table. He then went on a drunken rant about “good help” and the “youth of today” as you looked down at the cake in front of you. Was D.C. even worth it? 

Absolutely not! Someone steals my dessert? The last straw, I would be OUT!

Bucky was staring at you again. He wasn’t directly across from you, a few centerpieces blocking your view, but you could feel it. To avoid him—and your feelings—you ate the cake. Brown and the men sarcastically cheered as you did, alcohol clear in the air at this point, and you took another bite to get them to find some other novelty. 

Ew why are the men cheering 🤢

The table was extremely long, so at some point, you thought you heard Bucky dive over the dinner party rather than continue his trek around to your side. Other sounds filtered past the panic clogging your ears. 

He 100% did

“Is she allergic to something? It’s an allergic reaction!” “How should I know?” 

And once again he gets worse!

As you were grappling for your purse, a choked whine fell from your lips. It had been kicked somewhere, pushed out of your grasp, and no one at this damn gala was helping you. Several older women had gone to their knees with worried expressions at your eye line, but they weren’t doing anything. 

Oh god this must be horrible

Your head was beginning to spin, and your thoughts were blurring, but you heard Bucky. He came to your side much faster than it felt, moving things around that your blurred vision couldn’t catch. And then, pain. And then relief. 

🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Your gasping breaths were supported by gentle hands on your face, thumbs brushing along your cheekbones. You grappled at Bucky’s wrists and tried to parse out panic from physical symptoms, but there was so much commotion in the room and your head was still so fuzzy. “You’re okay,” Bucky assured you, voice almost too low to catch. Someone was on the phone with 911 in the back. “You can breathe with me. Come on. Don’t—hey—don’t look at them. Look at me.” Your chin was pushed forward, and then your forehead connected with his. Ringing persisted in your ears. Your hands were beginning to shake from the epi, your jaw following close behind. “I got you, okay?” 

He's so gentle and all she needs in thats situation 🥺 (also is there no ambulance on stand by? This feels like a place lots of old politicians that could drop dead any second lol)

“F-f-feels—” “I know,” he hushed. When your breath was somewhat steadier, he tucked your head beneath his chin and began barking out orders. He asked for an ETA on the ambulance, for your jacket, for ten other things you couldn’t register.

People like that are essentially in emergency situations like that👏🏻

And then, “You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” 

He truly should know by now🤦🏻‍♀️

“What, throwing things at her wasn’t enough? Had to try and kill her?” “B-bucky—” “Throwing things at her?” you heard from across the room. “Brown, what is Barnes talking about?” Bucky let out a puff of air through his nose, shaking his head in disbelief. Silence blanketed the room once more, and it was clear that he had given up. His hands were glued to the back of your head and your back, and he didn’t have the time or the drive in him to care about Brown right now. 

🥺🥺🥺

“I saw you switch the plates.” The quiet voice came from across the table, the young blonde’s face registering in your memory as you peeked out from beyond Bucky’s chest. “She had a card with it, too. It said there was an allergy accommodation.” Low murmurs fell over the room. Brown, much to your surprise, looked at a loss for words, his expression betrayed as he stared at the woman across the room. It clicked then, where you knew her from. She was on the front cover of every article you were pressured to get taken down, and the contact photo for the main caller in Brown’s phone. 

Yes 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 and I hope she dumps his ass!

Sirens sounded beyond the doors of the ballroom, breaking up the tension at the wide table. Brown used it as his getaway, throwing his napkin down and muttering something about insolence or idiots or something of the sort. You couldn’t really hear anything over Bucky’s low whisper in your ear, followed by his lips against the side of your head. He shot out of the chair, holding everything in your hands in one of his, and assessed you himself. His gaze roved the mess you’d become. He should have made a joke about it, maybe teased you for almost dying, but instead, he ran a hand over your head and dragged you against his chest. 

He is just so sweet 🥹

“‘Course I did.” He leaned you back, hand still woven at the base of your hair, not caring that he was in the middle of the ER waiting room. “You okay?” 

It wasn't even an option to not wait

Finally!🥳👏🏻🥰

It only took you a moment to make a decision. You pressed up, kissing him even though you were in the ER waiting room. Even though you both looked like a mess and you’d almost died and you had no idea if you still had a job. You kissed him and it startled him, the paper bag of medications crunching in his hand, but he kissed you back without hesitation.  It wasn’t a passionate kiss—not like the breathless, wanting kisses you would share late, share tomorrow—but it was confirming something. Bucky held you and had his lips firmly against yours, his brows furrowed in a way you couldn’t see, and he confirmed everything you’d suspected. 

You figured you wouldn’t need to work if your boyfriend were a Congressman. 

🤭🤭🤭

But, as you would soon find out, Senator Brown didn’t have very much time left as a Senator, anyway. 

I couldn't be happier about this 🥳👏🏻

Checks and Balances

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Your boss was an ass—you knew it, the office knew it, the entire country knew it. Working for Senator Brown was never easy, but you had managed it for the better part of three years and didn’t want to see your career go up in flames. Unfortunately for you, Bucky was slowly falling in love with you, and Congressman Barnes didn’t think managing it was enough. 

Word count: 9k

Warnings: Injury (kinda), hospitals, angst, an abusive boss, protective Bucky!!

a/n: Ahh a Bucky fic that's not an AU (that's also one million words)! Idk how the government works tbh so sorry if things are a little inaccurate there lol. This takes place right before Thunderbolts! Thank you for reading, I love you!! ❤️❤️

Masterlist

~~

“Congressman Barnes,” you greeted, a slight nod of your head the only acknowledgement you could afford. Senator Brown was only a moment away from screaming at you again, and you could only take so much screaming in one day.  

Bucky, unfortunately, did not care about being screamed at by Senator Brown. He took your upper arm in a light grip and shot you a confused smile. “What, you avoiding me? Can’t be seen in the halls talking to me?” 

A fairer assessment of Bucky’s interruption was that he didn’t know of the wrath Senator Brown could incite upon you. Sure, Bucky knew that Brown was a hardass, and by association, his executive assistant would have to put up with it, but he had no way of knowing just how terrible the man was. 

When you met Bucky a few weeks ago, you had been alone in a hotel lobby. The heels accompanying your freshly pressed pantsuit had been killing you, and you needed a moment for your feet to breathe. Bucky, apparently, also needed a moment away from the conference, and you had gotten to talking when he plopped into the overstuffed armchair beside you. 

He knew you worked for Senator Brown. You knew he was a Congressman, obviously. You also knew his background and the complexities that came with it. Many people in the political space turned up their noses at him, something you had a similar experience with as you were “only an assistant.” The two of you had joked about it, eventually making your way to the hotel bar and laughing over the amount of hidden toupees currently residing in the ballroom.

In the weeks that followed, you had texted with him, met for coffee twice because he was “in the area”, and had maybe even considered the fact that you were friends with Congressman Barnes. Friends were invaluable to have in D.C., but they were also something to be wary of. Bucky didn’t feel the type to be wary of. 

As you stood halfway frozen in the hallway, his comment began to make sense. He was calling back to your initial hotel conversation, making a joke about biases and stuck-up politicians, but this was not the time. Not that he could have known. 

Senator Brown barked out your name when he noticed you were no longer beside him, surely trying to get you to jot down some thought banging around in his head. You whipped your head to the side, almost missing the affronted expression on Bucky’s face as he registered the tone that your name was spoken in, and shook your arm from his hold. 

“Sorry, Congressman,” you murmured, turning on your heel and making quick strides in Brown’s direction. “I apologize. What can I do for you, Senator?” 

Your boss barely hid a scoff. “You can start by being where I need you to be. And write this down—I do not believe that the House takes the proper—” 

You scrambled to take out your phone and open the notes app. A rookie mistake; you usually had it open the second his meetings ended, but you had been distracted. By Bucky. 

Your heels hurriedly clicking against polished marble, you took a fleeting glance over your shoulder. Bucky remained there, his brow furrowed and his arms crossed over his chest, metal from his hand glinting against the gentle fluorescence of the hall. 

Three days later, he brought it up. 

You thought you’d found a private spot to scarf down your lunch in your allotted fifteen-minute break, but with a sandwich only half finished and your mouth full, the call of your name reminded you that there is never any privacy for you at this job. The sound of Bucky’s voice softened the blow a bit. 

“He always treat you like that?” Bucky asked, swinging his leg over the bench on the other side of the table. He watched as you tried to chew quickly, some of the hardness he’d sat down with melting from his expression. 

You covered your mouth with your hand and swallowed hard. “What?” you finally got out, reaching for your water bottle. 

Bucky raised a brow. “Brown. Does he always yell at you?” 

After a few sips and swallows, you gave up on being able to finish your lunch. You had to plan out your meals very meticulously to finish, and Bucky had already taken up 30 precious seconds. 

“Oh,” you began. You swiped a hand through the air. “It’s fine. He just gets a little intense sometimes. It’s just his personality.” 

“You’ve been working for him for three years.” 

“Right.” 

“The guy should treat you better. He could only keep assistants for a few weeks at a time before you.” 

“How do you know that?” 

Bucky slid your food towards you. “Eat. You looked like you were in a hurry when I got here.” 

You eyed him for a moment. With his hair tucked behind his ears, you could see the tenseness of his jaw and the shadow of his beard dusting above his collar. It was no secret that Bucky was alarmingly handsome in a sea of 60-year-old politicians, but you had never gotten the opportunity to see it at work. You were always too busy, and Bucky’s office was three floors down. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t text you back,” you said, reaching for the fruit in your bag. “I meant to. I’ve just been working late since the meeting on Monday.” 

“It’s alright.” A pause as you continued to eat your food. You had maybe four minutes left. “How late?” 

“Oh, um, I’ve been going home around 10. It’s such a pain in the ass to get a taxi at that time, you wouldn’t believe. Uber isn’t much better, and I definitely can’t walk home in these things,” you joked, motioning to the bandaids strapped behind your heels. “It’s not so bad, though. After about a month of late nights, Brown will go on a “vacation,” and I’ll have a few weeks to reign in the chaos during normal business hours.” 

You were giggling as you spoke, adding air quotes and sarcasm to try to alleviate the irritated look Bucky was sporting. After a few weeks of being around him, you understood that Bucky was quieter than you, but his silence right now was pressing. Your jokes weren’t getting him to talk, so you switched gears. 

Popping a grape in your mouth, you asked, “What are you doing up here, anyway?” 

Bucky let out a breath and tapped his hand on the table. “Honestly? I came to check on you.” 

“To check on me?” 

“After Monday, I wanted to make sure—” 

Your phone started going off, the “Senator Brown” contact making your blood run cold. You brought your watch up and let out a gasp that made Bucky jump. 

“What?” he rushed, standing from the table as you started to pack your things in a panic. He went to help you, but after two brushes of his hands, he realized he was only in the way. 

“My break was over two minutes ago. I have to go right now.” 

“Two minutes? What—y/n, that isn’t—” 

He was here to check on you. Right. That was really sweet. 

Your brain tried to catch up with your panic as you reached over and squeezed his arm gratefully. “I’m really fine, Bucky. It was nice to see you. We should get coffee again.” You were sliding through the double doors and back into the building as you called, “I’ll text you. I promise this time.” 

And you did. In the seven minutes of free time you got around 9 pm, you sent him a quick follow-up text. The bubble went right below his text from two days ago, and you felt a small pinch of guilt for not answering him until now.

You: Free Saturday morning?

He answered you almost instantly.

Bucky: Depends. Are you still at work right now?

You frowned at your phone. 

You: If I am does that mean you won’t get coffee with me?

Bucky: So you are 

You: …maybe 

And then, your seven minutes of silence were up. When Brown’s footsteps could be heard by the door, you tucked your phone into your desk and went to work on the stack of papers he assigned you. He so graciously let you know that he was going home now, and you could leave once you were finished. 

That was perfect. 

It took you an hour and a half, but when you sorted the final paper and checked his schedule for tomorrow for the last time, a sense of relief flooded you. You didn’t even care that it would take another 30 minutes for an Uber to arrive. All you could think about was your shower and your bed and taking these shoes off your feet. 

You gathered your belongings and swiped your phone from the desk, clicking to the rideshare app and somewhat dreading the small talk to come. It would be extremely convenient to have a car, but that wasn’t something in the cards for you. Your tiny apartment had barely any parking, and everything else was within walking distance. 

As you continued to ponder the pros and cons of taking the bus home, a honk from the curb made you jump. You lowered your phone and squinted into the distance of the now barren road. 

“Someone order an Uber?” 

Disbelief was your first emotion, and then shock and then confusion. “Buck—Congressman Barnes?” you asked, correcting yourself when the memory of the building at your back resurfaced. 

“You’re not getting in my car if you’re calling me that,” Bucky replied, leaning down to peer out the passenger-side window. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked him for the second time today.

“I told you, I’m driving for Uber. You called for one?” 

A disbelieving laugh fell from your lips. You shook your phone by your face and leaned down towards the window. “Haven’t even ordered it yet. I’m not supposed to get in the car unless they can put in the code verifying my identity.” 

“Give me a code, then. Here,” he passed you his phone, the background illuminating a small white cat. “Wait, sorry, I have to unlock it.” 

Your next laugh was more of a scoff as he reached through the window to take it back. “Seriously, what are you doing here?” 

Bucky paused, looking you up and down for a moment before his jaw ticked to the side in a smile. “I’m taking you home. You live close, it won’t take very long.” 

“I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“You’re not asking. Now, hurry up and get in. I’ve been in the fire lane for 20 minutes and parking enforcement hates me here.” 

You went to argue again, but Bucky only raised a brow and unlocked the doors. 

Sliding in the car was somewhat of a mess with your bag and your jacket and the file you had meant to finish at home almost suffocating you. Bucky tried to help, grabbing items and waiting for you to buckle in before placing them by your feet. You were flustered from the transition, trying to adjust your skirt and seatbelt as Bucky reached forward to tuck a strand of hair stuck in your lip gloss behind your ear. 

You turned to look at him instantly, but the man only gave you a closed-lip smile and shifted the gear of his car, pulling away from the building of your nightmares. You blinked back towards the dashboard, needing a few more seconds to settle yourself. 

“I really didn’t mean to make you feel guilty,” you stressed to Bucky after he flipped the radio on, low music trickling in. “When I told you about staying late, I mean.” 

Bucky tsked, knocking his head to the side to shoot you a lingering glance. “You didn’t, alright? This is my own problem. I just didn’t feel comfortable with you trying to find a way home so late.” 

“I’ve been doing it for a while and I haven’t died yet,” you attempted to joke. 

Not the best joke, it seemed, with Bucky’s fist clutching the steering wheel a hair tighter, the sound of leather meeting your ears. He shook his head. “Where’s Brown? He doesn’t let you take work home?” 

“Oh, he does sometimes,” you chipperly replied, trying to sound awake and get Bucky un-pissed off. “He just checks my timesheets when we work overtime, so I have to make sure I stay late enough so that he won’t say anything. I still have this to take care of once I get home.”

You tapped the manila file in your lap and looked over to Bucky as he drove. He was wearing jeans and a pullover crewneck, his hair tied back and casual, and even though you’d seen him outside of work before, he looked different this way. Something about the night and him driving you home made him look different. 

Bucky didn’t make a comment about your work or the system you had to avoid criticism from the Senator. Silence lapsed in the car, you lightly drumming your fingers on your thigh as the D.C. night swept past along the car windows. 

“I would like to get coffee Saturday,” Bucky finally said. “If the offer still stands.” 

“Of course it stands.” 

You only briefly caught the half-smile that lit up his face before the light of the streets was lost to a tunnel. 

~~

Coffee was relaxed and enjoyable, as it always was with Bucky. He asked a few more questions about your work, a topic he had previously not touched on. He wanted to know about your coworkers, if the interns ever helped you, how much time you got off, and in turn, you asked him about being a Congressman and if he actually enjoyed it. 

Both answers left the other person less than satisfied. 

“What about you?” Bucky asked, tilting his cup up. “Why have you been an executive assistant for so long?” 

You hummed. “I don’t know, really. My dad was in politics, and he would only really accept my work if I was, too. He’s… not around now, but I feel like I have to stay. I’m good at it.” 

“I believe it. Could be good at a lot of things, though.” 

You shot him a mock glare. “Trying to get rid of me, Congressman?” 

Bucky leaned forward, placing a hand on the small table that only separated you a few inches. He answered you earnestly, but a small amount of humor lightened his eyes, made him look less serious. “Now, why would I want to do that?” 

Your lips parted to quip something back, but then he was raising his hand again, the heat of his skin lingering at the corner of your mouth. He swiped his thumb there, and you were frozen, a replica of when he brushed your hair back a few nights ago, but the car had been a distraction then. You had been flustered and trying to sort out your belongings, so you didn’t think about it for longer than a few seconds. 

“Whipped cream,” he explained, holding you in his gaze for a moment longer than you should have been. Even as the barista from behind the counter was now standing at your table and speaking. 

“Hi! Would the two of you like to try our new coffee cake? Free samples since it’s new.” 

Bucky was the first to look away, tearing his eyes from yours to smile politely at the barista. You shook from your stupor and quickly reached for a napkin, brushing it against your lips even though nothing remained. 

You felt fuzzy, confused. But also nothing was confusing and you were reminded, again, how attractive the Congressman was. How attractive and how definitely off-limits he was. 

It would be so taboo for Bucky to be dating an assistant. 

“What about you, ma’am?” You blinked several times and looked up to read the small ‘coffee cake’ sign lying next to the treats, the barista’s blinding smile expecting and very retail. 

“I’m allergic to cinnamon, but thank you.” 

“Allergic to cinnamon?” Bucky asked as the barista left.

“Yeah, anaphylaxis and everything. I carry an epipen with me, but I’ve only had to use it once when I was 10. Did you know that some bakeries add cinnamon to buttercream birthday cakes?” you chuckled, reorienting yourself to the present. “Are you allergic to anything? Or, I guess you probably aren’t. Isn’t that a serum thing?” 

“Not allergic to anything, but if I had been, it would’ve been wiped out by the serum. We didn’t really have a lot of food variety in the 30s. Could have been allergic to shellfish—didn’t try that until after.” 

You had to pause the cup at your lips. “Oh my god, I forgot you’re like 100 years old.” 

Bucky’s expression morphed into an offended wince. “Alright, I wouldn’t say that. I haven’t exactly lived 100 years.” 

“I was just thinking the other day how you don’t exactly fit in with the rest of Congress, but you so do! Maybe even on the young side,” you teased. 

“Oh yeah?” Bucky egged on, nodding with his brows raised. “You were thinking about me?” 

You knocked your head back in a laugh, holding your stomach with your forearm. “How did I forget this?” 

“You know what? I’m not driving you home anymore.” 

With lingering giggles, you righted yourself in your chair, a smile still clear in your voice. Contrasting his words, Bucky’s smile was just as wide as yours, a slight redness to his cheeks making him look softer. You brought a hand to cover his arm on the table. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Bucky. You aren’t old. I take it back.” 

“Yeah, you better,” he taunted, though his arm flipped over and he gave your wrist a soft squeeze as he said it. 

~~

Bucky wouldn’t stop touching you. 

You didn’t know if he was doing it consciously or if this was something he commonly did with his friends, but he was going to get you in trouble. 

Outside of work, it was fine—distracting and disorienting, but fine. A brush of his hand helping you into the car, fixing your bag on your shoulder, a hand on your back when you left the coffee shop; over the past few weeks, it had all begun to feel commonplace. 

It could have been frequency that made you more aware of this habit of his, because Bucky had begun picking you up every time you worked late and planned coffee or lunch or even a walk at least once a weekend. So, maybe this was his norm and you were just around him more often—something you enjoyed, but also something that made feelings more difficult. 

Because, again, Congressman Barnes could not be dating an assistant. His credibility among the rest of Congress was already being questioned almost daily, and he did not need the court of public opinion breathing down his neck on top of that. It was a fortunate truth that while the internal part of his job was tricky, most of the public favored him. 

So, as much as your chest hurt and your stomach flipped whenever you were around him, you settled for friendship. A touchy friendship. 

At work, things felt heightened in the worst way possible. 

You couldn’t even understand why he was coming to the top floor so often, seemingly lingering there so he could scare the crap out of you when you’d turn a corner. And then it would be a smile and another hand at your back when he was passing you—a hand that was not necessary. Or he would find you at the tail-end of your lunch break and move your hair away from your eyes, distracting you to the point of no return. 

It was the worst because you were getting distracted, and when you were distracted, you got yelled at. 

Bucky had seen you get yelled at a few times now, each seemingly worse than the last. He kept quiet about it, but you could tell it bothered him. He almost stepped in once—when Brown was irate at the coffee you’d gotten him and chucked it at the wall, you saw Bucky step forward from down the hall. He stopped at the slight shake of your head. 

You were used to the Senator throwing things, and as long as it wasn’t in your direction, it was no harm done. At least, that’s what you thought. 

“You should go to human resources,” Bucky commented one Sunday, the two of you sitting along a lake by the Capitol building. 

You almost snorted. “Right. And what do you think old Mrs. Martha is going to be able to do for me? Brown has been in office for over a decade. If anything, that would just get me fired.” 

Bucky shook his head, expression taut. “There’s gotta be something else then. You don’t deserve all of that.” 

“If we’re talking about not deserving torment, I think I’m the least of our worries here, Sergeant,” you noted, knocking your shoulder against his in an attempted lightness. 

But when you turned to look at him, Bucky was already facing you. “I’m serious, y/n. He’s throwing things at you. I’ve stayed out of it because you told me to, but after today—” 

“Bucky, hey,” you calmed. “I know it seems crazy, but I know how to deal with it. I know he won’t actually do anything.”

“Right now, maybe.” 

You sighed, searching his eyes and trying to discern when this became such an intense conversation. Trying to figure out when the two of you had discussions like this and not just lax coffee hangouts. Against your better judgment, you placed a hand over his thigh and relented. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll work on it, but I’ll be the one working on it, okay? It definitely can’t be you—he would freak out if a representative started ordering him around. Even if you could totally knock him out.” 

Bucky shook his head in disbelief, a smile begrudgingly sneaking onto his face. “I can’t believe you’re joking about this.” 

“You can definitely believe that.” 

“Yeah, I can.” And then you were tugged against his starched, ironed suit, his metal arm holding you close to his chest.

You gasped a little at the initial contact, your heart hammering against your ribs as Bucky simply kept you there. This is dangerous, your brain reminded you, but it was also harmless, if you looked at it the right way. 

“You know, I’m not going to die, Bucky. I’ve dealt with this for years.” 

“Yeah, you keep joking about that,” he gruffly replied, the words a ghost against the top of your head. You hadn’t realized his lips were that close. “If we could keep the death jokes to a minimum, that would be great.” 

You pulled back from him enough to look at his face. “Why? Afraid your only friend will bite it?” 

“Hey, I have other friends.” 

“I haven’t seen ‘em.” 

“Shut up,” he groaned, tugging you back in. “You can meet them as proof. Next weekend.” 

“Okay, sure, Bucky,” you sang out, tapping his chest. “But if we need to reschedule this meeting with your 'friends,’ I would understand.” 

As Bucky went on to refute your insinuations in a grumpy tone, you tried to pretend that this felt like that—just a friendship. 

~~

Approximately four days later, everything went to shit. 

Senator Brown was on a tirade, screaming at everyone and everything in his path. When he got like this, the admin staff usually locked the doors to his office and the entire floor if they could, but today, they weren’t ready for how angry he was. 

It was a bill, or a speech, or maybe even the press catching wind that he was cheating on his wife—it didn’t matter. He was pissed and you were going to have to answer for it. 

You stood in his office with a clear view of the glass wall connecting to the hallway, hands behind your back and fighting off a wince with every curse and insult the Senator threw at you. 

“I hired you to take care of this bullshit! Why the hell am I dealing with this when I’m supposed to have an entire staff? This is fucked!” 

“You’re too worried about going home early, you can’t even assemble a reply to an email correctly! A fucking email!”

“I should’ve fired you weeks ago. When you started fucking off to wherever you take too long for your lunch break and stopped doing your job. I swear to god, this country has—” 

You were only retaining about half of what he said, which was good, considering everything was an attack on you, and your work ethic, and then he even started going in on your clothes and your apartment. It must have been something really bad this time. After he was done yelling, you would check his texts and probably find a couple of mentions of divorce sprinkled in between messages with his lawyers. 

Affairs and divorce were always messy for politicians. 

“Of course, Senator. I will do better. I apologize,” you offered, unsure what you were apologizing for at the present. It wouldn’t matter; he would just start up again about another topic. 

“Damn right you will or I’ll send you out on the streets. Do you know how hard it is to get a job in D.C when a Senator blacklists you?” 

Did you ever. 

When Bucky had asked you why you stayed, you left out that key bit of information. He was still newer to the field and didn’t need to know that Senator Brown held that over your head each time you even hinted at moving on. 

You figured the screaming was almost over. Brown was in his 60s, so he would be getting tired. And it probably would have been over if he hadn’t checked his Apple Watch and read a text that got him fired up once more.

You greatly regretted setting that up for him. 

You braced yourself for further yelling as his face began to turn red, but were alarmed as the Senator reached for the wooden pencil case on his desk and threw it. Pens flew, and you knew he wasn’t aiming for you, but the cup hit a vase on a high bookshelf to your right, which then toppled over and shook loose the framed art hanging above your head. 

You should have moved, but you spotted Bucky in the hall, and he always distracted you. 

The frame shot straight down, smacking you in the head and causing your knees to buckle in surprise. You fell to the ground, feeling dramatic and disoriented as the room silenced and your ears rang. You knew he wouldn’t apologize, but the continued quiet as you pushed yourself up and sat back on your haunches was almost deafening. 

The glass door to the office swung open. 

“What the hell?” A hand was on your elbow. A colder one felt around the top of your head. It was Bucky, obviously it was Bucky, but you were too afraid to look, keeping your gaze locked on Senator Brown. “Hey, you okay?” 

The hand on your head moved down to your jaw, forcing your gaze to Bucky. He searched every inch of your face as you blinked at him, mind blank. “Um, I’m fine.” 

Your brows furrowed, trying to connect the chain of events that led to this. You brought your hand up to replace where Bucky had placed his, the action seemingly spurring him into action. 

“The hell is wrong with you, huh?” Bucky shouted, rising from the floor. “You think it makes you tough to throw things at her?” 

Senator Brown had gone from furious to unsure, probably aware of the physical strength Bucky harbored. But, as was typical with politicians, he would not put anything before his pride. Brown righted his expression and pursed his lips. 

“I wasn’t trying to hit her, Congressman. It was a simple accident. You weren’t even in the room to see it happen.” 

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t need to be. You’re screaming at her when you’re not throwing. What kinda grown man does that?” 

“Bucky—” you cautioned, glued to the floor still. 

The senator directed his attention towards you, brows raised accusingly. “Oh, so you’ve been gossiping about me, then?” 

You shrank back, hand lingering where your head ached, but Bucky stepped in front of you, blocking you from Brown’s line of sight. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” Bucky seethed, jutting a finger into Brown’s chest. 

Brown’s head sharply turned. “That you are, Congressman. But it seems like my assistant here no longer wants her role, so this conversation is moot.” 

“Wait, I—” 

“Maybe if you spent time picking on someone your own size instead of acting like a coward—” 

“Bucky, don’t—” 

“A coward? A coward? Who’s the one who cannot speak for himself on the board? Tell me, Barnes, is that part of some unresolved trauma from some nondescript decade?” 

“You shut your mouth before I—” 

“Congressman Barnes,” you called, authority that didn’t belong to you heavy in your tone. You were two seconds away from losing your job and being blacklisted, neither of which you could handle. Bucky froze, his anger still held in his shoulders. “Thank you for your concern, as I’m sure you were just passing by when you saw what happened, but I can assure you that it was an accident and I am fine.” 

Bucky looked over his shoulder with furrowed brows, but took a step back and dropped his hands by his sides when he caught your expression—still disheveled, but resolute in your decision. He needed to leave. You needed to save your career. You could… figure everything else out later. Probably. 

You bit into your bottom lip until it hurt. 

Bucky looked at the wall behind your head and then tracked his gaze to the forming lump on your crown. “But—” 

“I am fine,” you repeated slowly. Having risen from the floor before calling his name, you walked to the door and held it open. “We’re very busy. Please excuse us.” 

Bucky licked his lips as he looked to the floor, shaking his head in abject disbelief and following your direction. When he met the entryway, he tilted his head slightly, opening his mouth to say something, but thinking against it. His hand twitched at his side, and then he left, taking long, purposeful strides away from the office. 

You took a deep breath, allowed yourself a moment as the door closed, and then you did something purposeful yourself. Even if it killed you to do so. 

~~

Bucky’s POV

Bucky was losing his mind. 

After leaving Brown’s office, he’d stormed into his own and promptly shut and locked the door. Tugging his tie away from his neck and prying the uncomfortable suit jacket from his shoulders, Bucky then began to pace. He was pissed. He was so beyond pissed. 

It would have been so easy for him to knock that Senator out, and he would have deserved it. Bucky had had to watch for weeks as you were berated and screamed at, and then the line was crossed when he saw him throwing things. You hadn’t let him do anything, and then you hadn’t let him do anything again after you’d been hurt. 

He watched you flinch and cover your face, and even that hadn’t been enough. 

Bucky swiped a hand over his mouth. 

When had you started to matter to him so much? That was a stupid question, and apparently, he was full of stupidity today.

He promised that he’d let you take care of it, and then he went in there and almost killed Senator Brown. A replay of you falling to the ground looped in his mind, and actually Bucky didn’t feel stupid at all. All he felt was rage. 

“Shit,” he breathed out, knocking his head back and falling back into his office chair.

He’d messed up. He wasn’t sure exactly how, but he knew you were not happy with him. What did “taking care of it” even mean? And why were you so dead set on keeping that awful job? Bucky could think of at least a dozen other jobs in D.C. that would not involve you being verbally and physically abused. 

Fuck, he wished he had more pull, but as a Congressman of only a few months, there was little he could do against a Senator. And he had a meeting in five minutes. 

Bucky pulled his phone out and sent you a quick text about talking after work, let out the longest sigh of his life, and then readjusted his tie. 

That had been three days ago. 

You never texted him back. And you left the building far before he could give you a ride home. When he asked your coworkers, they said you were no longer working overtime and left during normal hours. 

Fine. That was good, actually. Only, Bucky never saw you. 

He frequented all of your normal spots, wandered up to the top floor, and even stopped by the coffeeshop two days in a row, and you were nowhere. Avoiding him, obviously, and while he understood (he didn’t), he mostly wanted to put eyes on you. To make sure you were okay. 

Sure, you didn’t have a severe head injury, but it was more than that. 

Bucky brought his turmoil to the barbecue Sam was holding that weekend. The one you were supposed to be at. 

Nursing his fifth beer that wouldn’t do anything, Bucky leaned back against the fence of Sam’s yard and sulked. He’d talked to a few people when he got there, but sulking was on his agenda for the afternoon. 

“What’s up with the stank face?” Sam asked, entering Bucky’s orbit of solitude and despair. “It’s gonna get stuck like that if you keep it up.” 

“I don’t have a stank face,” Bucky argued. 

“Right, right. Well, right now you have more of a pissed off face, but I guess I bring that out in you.” Sam paused and then smacked Bucky in the shoulder. “Come on, man. What’s going on, seriously? Does it have to do with that girl you were supposed to bring?” 

“I don’t want to talk about that.” 

“Oh, you don’t? Then it’s that.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, knocking back more of his beer as the sizzle of burgers juxtaposed with his somberness. “Alright, fine. It’s that. But it’s stupid. We weren’t even…”

“Dating?” 

“Yeah. That.” 

“You told me you went out for coffee and all that. That you would go on long walks at the lake and canoodle at work.”

“Are you going to take this seriously?” Bucky accused. “‘Cause if you’re not, I’m leaving right now. I’ll leave.” 

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” Sam surrendered, raising his hands. “But really, Buck, that all sounds like dating. Tell me why she didn’t come.” 

Bucky clenched his jaw and stared out at the merriment of the barbecue, remembering the scene more vividly than he would have liked. He tried to find an exact moment that would have led to you avoiding him, but he couldn’t pin it down. Maybe it was the entire thing? 

“I think she’s mad at me. I kinda went off on her boss and she told me she wanted to take care of it.” 

“What do you mean ‘went off’? And isn’t she working under a Senator?”

Bucky puffed out a breath. “Yeah, Senator Brown.” Sam let out a low whistle as Bucky continued. “He yells at her. Throws things. I felt like it crossed a line this week, so I guess I kinda stormed in. She threw me out and’s been avoiding me since. We had talked about it before and she said to stay out of it, but, Sam, the guy’s a dick.” 

“And you really like her,” Sam added casually. “And I really like her,” Bucky confirmed. 

Sam paused to contemplate, though Bucky didn’t know what he could possibly offer that Bucky hadn’t already considered. He really, really liked you—more than he figured possible, especially with all of his attempts at dating since his pardon. But then you’d surprised him that night at the hotel, and he’d been hooked. 

He hadn’t even had the chance to tell you.

“Well, two things,” Sam began, leaning on the fence next to Bucky. “Sounds like she knows what she’s doing, so you should have trusted her. But—” Sam cut out as Bucky opened his mouth “—it also sounds like Brown’s a major ass with a lot of power. You don’t know what he might have over her, slimy dude like that.” 

“What, you mean like blackmail?” 

“Maybe, who knows? You just gotta talk to her, man. Work it out.” 

Sam clapped Bucky on the shoulder before wading back into the party in the yard. Bucky, feeling somewhat lighter but also still at peril, kicked off the fence and made his own attempts at being sociable. 

“As soon as I can actually find her,” he grumbled to himself. 

~~

The charity gala had been on your calendar for the past six months, and still, nothing could have prepared you for how much you didn’t want to attend. 

You usually enjoyed events like this. You got to dress up and eat nice food, and Brown always got too drunk to remember that his assistant was even in the building. The first hour felt like work, and then the rest of the night was cosplaying as a rich politician. 

That was not the case for this gala. 

Ever since the ordeal with Bucky, Senator Brown had kept you on a tight leash. Whether that was due to how much he enjoyed intimidating you or his fear that you actually were telling people he was a mean, abusive boss, didn’t matter. All that mattered was that this gala was going to suck and there was nothing you could do about it. 

You had apologized profusely, swore up and down that you didn’t know Congressman Barnes, and practically pledged your life to Brown in every way you knew how. You never left the office, never took a lunch break—you were pretty sure your eyes were permanently dry from how long you stared at a screen all day. 

Making you attend this gala and not leave his side was another ploy to make you atone for your wrongdoings. Maybe the man knew how much you enjoyed these events and was taking advantage of that. 

“Check this,” Senator Brown lazily ordered, draping his coat over your arms. “And meet me back in the dining room. You get to sit right next to me.” 

You offered him a tight smile and felt the ache in your shoulders begin to fester. You were more uptight this week than ever, but that had nothing to do with Bucky Barnes. Nothing. 

It was just this job and your future in D.C. hanging in the balance. 

Obviously. 

You meandered over to the coat check, taking longer than you needed to and dragging your feet along the way. Your phone was buzzing incessantly in your bag—most likely some PR fire you’d need to put out before more people realized Brown was cheating on his wife—and you had absolutely no inclination to drag it out. 

“Just these two,” you offered, pressing the coats into the attendant's hands and taking the ticket in return. 

“Actually, can you add this one to that ticket?” 

As if this night couldn’t get any more uncomfortable. 

You could feel his chest against your back even before you heard him. He shifted his arms out of his sleeves and placed a hand on your shoulder as he leaned towards the counter. Of course he smelled good. Why wouldn’t he?

You fought the urge to roll your eyes in repressed… something and spun on your heel. 

He was just as close as you were expecting and also far too close for comfort. You knocked your head back to catch his gaze, trying to appear unamused and angry. 

“Why would you do that?” you asked. 

Bucky paused for a moment, searching the planes of your face for a beat too long before replying, “No reason to open another ticket. I’ll just leave when you leave.” 

“You mean you’ll leave when Brown leaves, then?” 

The muscle in his jaw jumped. “So, nothing's changed.”

This time, you did roll your eyes. You clutched the coat check number in your hand and began to storm off, not in the headspace to have this conversation at this gala. Bucky, however, did not seem to mind. 

The hand on your arm was soft but firm as you were tugged into a closet and subsequently shoved into a rack of hanging coats. It was too dim to see beyond your hands out in front of you, but Bucky solved that predicament as he entered your space. 

“Did you seriously just throw me into a closet?” you whisper-yelled, all too aware of the staff only feet away. 

“I had no choice,” he replied with the same urgency. “You were stomping off. And I didn’t throw you in here.” 

“I was not stomping off,” you scoffed. 

“You were.” 

“Was not!” 

“I could hear your heels. You were stomping.” 

You groaned, pushing into his chest to try and create distance that wasn’t available. Your back only hit the wall. 

“Fine. What do you want?” 

Bucky froze for a moment. “I… I didn’t actually think you’d stay in here. Or let me talk, if I’m being honest. 

Your jaw fell open, an incredulous laugh slipping out. You’d almost forgotten how endearing he was in just about everything he did. Even as he stood in front of you in a full, three-piece suit, smushing you against a closet wall because he had dragged you in there with no plan, a part of your chest warmed. 

Your phone vibrated in your bag, and that warmth turned to ice. 

“I don’t have time for this,” you determined, wiggling your way towards the door. 

“Wait, hold on. I do have something to say, wait,” Bucky pleaded, metal hand—more gentle than you were sure it was ever used for—encircling your wrist. He tugged you back even closer this time, your face inches from his. “I wanted to say sorry. And… and I want to get it.” 

“Get it?” you parroted, trying extremely hard to ignore the dropping feeling in your gut as he stared into your eyes. 

“I want to get why you stay. Why you let him treat you like that. I want to know so I can… feel okay backing off.” 

All you could get out was, “Why?” 

Bucky’s next words were spoken as he stared down at your lips. “I think you know why.” 

Breaths began to fail you, each exhale more ragged than the last. You had been expecting this, in a way, and that was why you always made excuses. He couldn’t be with you because he was a Congressman. You were only an assistant. You couldn’t date him because you were too busy. He wouldn’t want to date you, anyway. Senator Brown would never be okay with it. 

All of those excuses evaporated within the shared space of the closet, and then you got scared. So, you blurted out what he wanted. 

“He won’t let me quit. He won’t let me work anywhere else.” 

Bucky blinked, a fog clearing from his heated gaze. His head jutted back an inch, and the hand that had somehow found a home on your jaw paused its ascent into your hair. “Won’t let you?” 

“I’d be blacklisted.” 

“He can’t do that.” 

“He can.” 

Bucky opened his mouth to speak again as the air in the closet became breathable and light peeked in from the cracking door. You sprang back from the Congressman, pushing his hand away from your cheek and slamming your back into the wall. It didn’t help much; the fifteen-year-old with the shawl in her hand was already making her own assumptions as you rushed past her and left Bucky to his own devices in the closet. 

Amazing. 

Just amazing. 

You debated moving states, or countries, or entire career paths as you hurried into the dining room of the gala. Not only had you taken too long at the coat check, but you knew you looked completely flushed and out of it. You prayed that Brown was already drinking and wouldn’t catch on. 

Thankfully, your prayers were answered. 

While he was not happy to see you, his raised brow and side-eye deadly as you sat down, he didn’t say anything. And that was how dinner went—quiet and uncomfortable for you, but otherwise par for the course for Senator Brown. 

Bucky was staring at you from across the table. The room was backlit by dull candles and expensive chandeliers, and you could feel his gaze on the side of your face like an unprecedented heat. He often flickered that gaze to Brown, but it would harden, become angry.

There was nothing he could do. There was nothing anyone could do. 

You either stuck it out with Brown or tossed your political science degree in the trash can on your way out.

When dinner passed and dessert was served, you eyed the lemon tart mocking you from your plate. Dessert, when your life felt so out of control and confusing, couldn’t hurt, you figured, so you picked up your fork and ignored the knots taking up space in your stomach. 

“Yours looks better.” Senator Brown picked up the lip of your plate and slid his in its place. “Here.” 

“But—” 

“Oh, don’t complain about it. Who complains about chocolate cake?” he peeved, snickering to the men on the other side of the table. He then went on a drunken rant about “good help” and the “youth of today” as you looked down at the cake in front of you. 

Was D.C. even worth it? 

Bucky was staring at you again. He wasn’t directly across from you, a few centerpieces blocking your view, but you could feel it. To avoid him—and your feelings—you ate the cake. Brown and the men sarcastically cheered as you did, alcohol clear in the air at this point, and you took another bite to get them to find some other novelty. 

You took three bites before it started to sink in. 

You vaguely registered that Bucky had pushed out from the table, a clink of silverware preceding the motion. It was too late for him, however, because as your own fork clattered down, you could no longer breathe. 

Your tongue felt ten times too big in your mouth and your throat was glued shut, air tunneling through any openings it could find. You pushed out from the table and stood. The extra space didn’t do anything. You clawed at your throat until your legs became unsteady and failed from the lack of oxygen. 

The table was extremely long, so at some point, you thought you heard Bucky dive over the dinner party rather than continue his trek around to your side. Other sounds filtered past the panic clogging your ears. 

“What’s wrong with her?” 

“I don’t know!” 

“Is she allergic to something? It’s an allergic reaction!” 

“Brown, what is she allergic to?” 

“How should I know?” 

“Well, do something!” 

As you were grappling for your purse, a choked whine fell from your lips. It had been kicked somewhere, pushed out of your grasp, and no one at this damn gala was helping you. Several older women had gone to their knees with worried expressions at your eye line, but they weren’t doing anything. 

“Move.” 

Your head was beginning to spin, and your thoughts were blurring, but you heard Bucky. He came to your side much faster than it felt, moving things around that your blurred vision couldn’t catch. And then, pain. And then relief. 

Your gasping breaths were supported by gentle hands on your face, thumbs brushing along your cheekbones. You grappled at Bucky’s wrists and tried to parse out panic from physical symptoms, but there was so much commotion in the room and your head was still so fuzzy. 

“You’re okay,” Bucky assured you, voice almost too low to catch. Someone was on the phone with 911 in the back. “You can breathe with me. Come on. Don’t—hey—don’t look at them. Look at me.” 

Your chin was pushed forward, and then your forehead connected with his. Ringing persisted in your ears. Your hands were beginning to shake from the epi, your jaw following close behind. 

“I got you, okay?” 

“F-f-feels—” 

“I know,” he hushed. When your breath was somewhat steadier, he tucked your head beneath his chin and began barking out orders. He asked for an ETA on the ambulance, for your jacket, for ten other things you couldn’t register. And then, “You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” 

The chaos of the room went silent. Within your shaking hands clutched in Bucky’s suit jacket, your fingers spasmed out of fear. 

“Excuse me?” Brown scoffed. You were honestly surprised he was still in the room.

“What, throwing things at her wasn’t enough? Had to try and kill her?” 

“B-bucky—” 

“Throwing things at her?” you heard from across the room. “Brown, what is Barnes talking about?” 

“I have no idea,” Brown spat out. He jutted his hand out towards you on the floor. “He never knows what he’s talking about. We’ve established that.” 

“Right,” Bucky deadpanned, pulling you closer to his chest as you gasped for breath. “So what do you call this?” 

“An accident, obviously.” 

Bucky let out a puff of air through his nose, shaking his head in disbelief. Silence blanketed the room once more, and it was clear that he had given up. His hands were glued to the back of your head and your back, and he didn’t have the time or the drive in him to care about Brown right now. 

“I saw you switch the plates.” The quiet voice came from across the table, the young blonde’s face registering in your memory as you peeked out from beyond Bucky’s chest. “She had a card with it, too. It said there was an allergy accommodation.” 

Low murmurs fell over the room. Brown, much to your surprise, looked at a loss for words, his expression betrayed as he stared at the woman across the room. It clicked then, where you knew her from. She was on the front cover of every article you were pressured to get taken down, and the contact photo for the main caller in Brown’s phone. 

“What? No,” Brown refuted, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, either. She’s barely even a secretary. She’s—” 

The eyes around the room made his words trail off. “Barely even a secretary” was certainly a degrading title for his mistress, and everyone in the room knew it. If you were to look at your phone, you’d have seen that the newest story of their relationship had been blowing up all night. You guessed she was fed up with him denying it. 

Sirens sounded beyond the doors of the ballroom, breaking up the tension at the wide table. Brown used it as his getaway, throwing his napkin down and muttering something about insolence or idiots or something of the sort. You couldn’t really hear anything over Bucky’s low whisper in your ear, followed by his lips against the side of your head. 

~~

After being monitored in the emergency room for approximately six hours, the night shift staff sent you off with a horde of medication to take for the next month and, of course, a new epipen. You trudged out past the waiting room, prepared to wait in the parking lot for an Uber, when a certain man sitting in a chair far too small for him caught your eye. 

He was half asleep, his face held in his metal hand as he nodded off and woke up just as quickly. His suit looked stiff and uncomfortable as he twisted his wrists, dragging the sleeves up to his elbows. He’d discarded the jacket somewhere, probably lost to the world now. And then he spotted you, your dress awkwardly draped over your body in your haphazard attempt to re-dress, your hair completely out of place, and your hands filled with paper bags of medication.

He shot out of the chair, holding everything in your hands in one of his, and assessed you himself. His gaze roved the mess you’d become. He should have made a joke about it, maybe teased you for almost dying, but instead, he ran a hand over your head and dragged you against his chest. 

“Scared the shit out of me,” he murmured into your hair. He pressed another kiss there, reminding you that the first one hadn’t been your imagination. 

“You didn’t have to stay,” you said, clutching his button-up in your hands. 

“‘Course I did.” He leaned you back, hand still woven at the base of your hair, not caring that he was in the middle of the ER waiting room. “You okay?” 

It only took you a moment to make a decision. 

You pressed up, kissing him even though you were in the ER waiting room. Even though you both looked like a mess and you’d almost died and you had no idea if you still had a job. You kissed him and it startled him, the paper bag of medications crunching in his hand, but he kissed you back without hesitation. 

It wasn’t a passionate kiss—not like the breathless, wanting kisses you would share late, share tomorrow—but it was confirming something. Bucky held you and had his lips firmly against yours, his brows furrowed in a way you couldn’t see, and he confirmed everything you’d suspected. 

You figured you wouldn’t need to work if your boyfriend were a Congressman. 

But, as you would soon find out, Senator Brown didn’t have very much time left as a Senator, anyway. 

[bonejunky6669]

i just watched a tiktok analysis of The Locked Tomb's parallels to Lolita and holy shit. It's really mind blowing. i will never get over just how many layers upon layers of references and complexity there are in these books.

anyways the video really helped me realize why John has always majorly creeped me out. when i started getting in the tlt fandom here on tumblr after reading all three books i was a little surprised (but ig not that surprised because it kind of happens with all fandoms) by how many people love John and how...babygirl-ified he is. i found John very creepy and disingenuous in HTN, and i absolutely despised him by NTN. he's a sociopath and a truly horrible person hiding behind a mask of someone who is "eccentric" and "goofy dad energy" and "just trying to do whats best". I didn't feel like i was reading about John, i felt like i was reading about a silly and unthreatening persona named something silly and unthreatening like Jod. he's certainly an interesting character, and i love the way he's written, but i truly hate him as a person.

i also couldn't really put my finger on why all of his interactions with Harrow made me so uncomfortable, and this video really made me realize why. It's obvious that he is grooming Harrow throughout all of HTN (though, for what exactly? a stronger lyctor? a devoted follower? a person who views abuse and group sex as the norm?) and I realized that all of the contexts in which he refers to Harrow as his "daughter" are the wrong contexts to have a "daughter". He writes J+A in the sand, John plus the woman he was in love with, and proceeds it with J+H?? gross. so many of his interactions with harrow have this very surface level father-and-daughter-ness to them, which is purely because of the language John uses. when you stop listening to his words and only pay attention to his subtle actions and contexts he uses, John is a pathetic man with a power fantasy, and also a creep. he doesn't mean "daughter", he means "something I created. person I control." and as pointed out in the video, similar the Humbert Humbert's fantasy in Lolita about having a child with Dolores and turning that child into the next "Lolita".

also, Tazmiurs short story The Magicians Apprentice that she wrote before TLT? the relationship between the magician and the girl in the story is very similar to John and Harrow- which, if you go read the story or at least watch this tiktok and listen to the quotes from it- is disturbing to say the least. the parallels between eating, and the taking of ones childhood, and the eating of flesh and the eating of ones childhood is very horribly present. it almost makes me wonder if Nona's aversion to eating could be connected to this as well. (and even if some of this isn't intentional, i still think its interesting to be able to draw these parallels between all of these stories and try to make sense of the beautiful mess that is The Locked Tomb).

don't forget he also takes in Gideon, changes her name, and grooms her to be something that she isn't as well.

but the moment i truly started despising John was when he destroyed the earth, took its soul and made it into a woman, and made that woman his love. jesus christ.

i saw another tiktok about the potential that the wedding in ATN could be between John and Harrow...taking into account the Little Mermaid references (the original Little Mermaid, where the prince marries a nun instead of the mermaid) as well as all of the grooming John put Harrow through and the way he inserts Harrow as a stand-in for Alecto within his memories...yeah... literally my worst nightmare omg Gideon please kill your dad

i definitely recommend you watch these videos and look up other peoples opinions about these parallels because I'm kind of just repeating what they said and they'll certainly be more coherent than me lol

links to the videos:

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8hd8wR7/

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8hd8aRf/

[vfx-batman]

I’m always thinking about Jason in Countdown to Final Crisis. It’s a vital Jason story to me. Everyone mentions Bruce of Earth-51 which, fair enough, he’s important + their story together is compelling. But what I’d love to see is someone address how Jason’s late 2000s tailspin ties directly into how CtFC resolves:

Across CTFC, Jason has given teaming up with the heroes a go. And it hasn’t gone well. But he sticks it out until, in the final act, it all goes horribly wrong — to his mind, as a direct result of him choosing to listen to the heroes when they said, ‘we’re heroes so we can’t kill anyone. not even if they’re already dying + their continued survival will unleash a 100% fatality universe-destroying plague.’ I think his reluctant acceptance of their rules here is important b/c it comes after alternate Bruce’s death kicks off his steady disillusionment-with-heroism arc. Though he’s seriously shaken, this Jason still wants to save people + he still wants to do that by working with the heroes. An extension of Winick’s Pay As You Go Jason who sees much value in helping the heroes to free one of their own from false imprisonment. In CTFC #10, Jason tries to blow up the OMAC that’s taken over Una to save Karate Kid’s life, + is stopped by Karate Kid — which leads him to leave, saying, ‘the hell with you. I’ve never been much good at rescuing people anyway.’

Yet after this condemnation of his own capacity to be a hero, Jason still doesn’t overrule the heroes — not when they want to keep the sick Karate Kid alive. He argues, but he ultimately relents, + as a result, he stands in #6 on the recently reborn Earth-51’s Gotham rooftop (a city where the reborn Earth-51 Bruce is waiting) + all his attention is taken up by watching as the city’s people succumb to the virus. The one Karate Kid was the incubator for. The one that cannot be stopped. These people start tearing themselves + their loved ones apart in an absolute frenzy, + he is utterly powerless to intervene in any way that matters. And for a guy who considers inaction culpability, he must see himself as responsible for this epidemic starting.

Crucially, b/c the story doesn’t end here, I think it’s important that he doesn’t get any time to process either alternate Bruce’s death, the planet’s destruction, or the entire universe’s obliteration after the Green Lantern of that world takes the plague off Earth. Not before the adventure ends + he quits the group in #4, yelling on the way out that he’s done with this ‘cosmic anomaly garbage’ + he wants to get away from the group + he ‘learned the cape-and-cowl-game’s for suckers’. This directly ties into his decision later that issue to dump his Red Robin costume (the symbol of the heroic future Earth-51 Bruce had in store for his Jason) into the dumpster before staggering off with Harley + Holly. He then re-appears once more in #1, narrating about how Batman’s playing ‘Faux Hero’ before interrogating a guy whilst his full face is showing. He’s seemingly abandoned the costume game.

Which makes his appearances in increasingly ostentatious super-villain costumes in Robin 1993, Battle for the Cowl, + finally, Batman and Robin 2009-11 so tricky to reconcile with what came before.

Starting with the first story chronologically speaking, I think it’s hard, but possible to reconcile the traumatic state Jason is left in at the end of Countdown to Final Crisis with his suggestion to Tim that they team up + use children as shields in Nicieza’s Robin 1993. This arc exists — as Tim’s narration so helpfully makes clear — to remind us (much like Brothers in Blood did for Nightwing) that unlike Bruce who was emotionally affected by Jason in UTRH, his protégés are much better. (Ignore how this comes by massively nerfing their adversary + casting Jason as the idiotic brute that we all hate to see in canon/fanon today.) But setting that aside, I think the fact that Jason returns from the Countdown travels to find his own Bruce ‘gone’ (dead as far as he knows), is what tips him over into 1. Picking back up the mask in an attempt to be emotionally close to him, 2. Desperately seeking a connection with whoever’s left in the Robin role (a theme which will recur when he asks Dick + Tim to be his Robin), + 3. Thinking that it doesn’t matter the innocence of those it is who die — whether they’re established heroes like Karate Kid + Una, or child gangsters like in Robin 1993 — so long as peace is restored after saving the maximum number of lives in the process.

Here are the obvious psychological ramifications from watching billions of people die after not killing one good guy — all in order to maintain a relationship with heroes who don’t even like him.

He’s then captured + put in jail + he seems cordial with Tim. Until he reads the will. What’s important to clarify from hereon-in is that both Daniel + Morrison utilise psychophobia in their framing of Jason as having gone ‘psycho’. And that this vilified mental health episode was canonically triggered when he viewed Bruce’s will at the end of his Robin 1993 appearances. And triggered again in BFTC when Dick showed it to him multiple times to defeat him by forcing him to confront his past (+ the fact that Bruce thought him broken / Bruce didn’t bother to get him therapy for implied CSA when he was younger). Jason ends that story by trying to kill himself by falling from a great height.

Then he randomly returns in Morrison’s Batman + Robin, + that depiction deserves its own post which I’ll compose one day. For now, sticking to the theme of Countdown’s after effects, I’ll just say: Morrison contributed to this extended mental health episode by having him go straight to Arkham. This is a psychiatric facility which, if you read their 1989 Arkham Asylum graphic novel, you will see they consider a site for ‘complete + utter ‘madmen’ who only exist to parallel Batman’s ‘dark side’’ — not the latter catch-all holding centre for criminals which we see in the N52. In the interests of avoiding further demonisation of mental illness, I prefer to interweave some neurological interference by the Pit as glitter-stained explained here. This can account for Jason’s increasing identification with being the dark mirror to Batman, despite having previously sworn off the cape + costume game. But please bear in mind that this was very much not the intended reading of either Daniel or Morrison, who instead relied extensively upon psychophobia.

In summary, Countdown to Final Crisis is unintentionally the key explanatory tool for threading any kind of character journey through Jason’s late 2000s appearances. Until Winick shows up + fucks it up by trying to make Jay into their darling ‘sociopathic’ macho villain, but that’s another matter. 👍

[vaginalvr]

Hii, I have a fic idea that stuck in my head for a while,so here I am. What about postprison!spencer×nonbau!reader (age gape or no as you wish) where they’ve been dating for a little while,but she doesn’t know about this prison situation and then somehow she finds out about it and his all nervous about it and worry that she’ll stop loving him, but reader reassures him and telling that it doesn’t change anything and only thing she feels bad about that such awesome person as Spencer gone through it,and after this conversation they had the most sweet and hot and amazing sex.BUT when he wake ups in the morning she’s not in the bed and nowhere around apartments so he start to think that actually it all was a lie and he did scare her off, but the truth is that she just wake up early to get his favorite bakery from his favorite place and then returns back to him and he’s just be like “you don’t leave me 🥹” and reader be like “ofc no, I told you I’m not going anywhere “ and then just sweet moment with them.

I hope you it’s comfortable for you to write about, but it’s okay if not,thank u anyway! And also English not my native language so sorry for mistakes!

content warning: Explicit but tender PIV sex, Oral references (non-graphic), Emotional vulnerability during sex (crying, apologizing), Consensual but intense physical closeness (bruising grip)

a/n: this took forever so i apoligize, i had to keep stopping to cry, enjoy!

word count ~ 1.4k

You had always loved mornings with Spencer. He wasn’t the easiest sleeper—nightmares, insomnia, or just that ceaseless mind of his—but on the nights he did rest well, you’d wake to his face so calm, softened, as though whatever weight he carried had been left somewhere you couldn’t see.

Tonight, though, sleep felt impossible for either of you.

It had started with an argument—not between you and him, exactly, but with the world. You had been watching something on the news, some trial coverage, and you’d muttered how horrible it was to imagine being wrongfully imprisoned.

You hadn’t known.

Spencer had gone quiet in that still, terrified way that made your heart sink. He wouldn’t look at you. When you asked him what was wrong, his voice cracked as he admitted it.

Prison.

He tried to explain, but his hands shook.

The nightmares you’d soothed before made too much sense.

“I didn’t want to tell you.” His voice sounded almost childishly small. “I thought if you knew... you wouldn’t want me.”

Your own heart hurt so badly it felt like a physical wound. You wanted to scream at the universe for ever doing that to him.

Instead you crawled into his lap on the couch, ignoring his flinch at first, forcing your palms to stay gentle as they framed his face.

“Spencer,” you whispered. “Look at me.”

His eyes were glassy, but he obeyed.

“I don’t care that you were in prison. I care that you went through that.”

He blinked, tears falling.

“I’m sorry you had to survive that. I hate that you were alone.”

You kissed him before he could say anything else, holding onto him so tightly he trembled.

His breath hitched when you shifted in his lap.

“Don’t you dare think I’m going anywhere.”

He swallowed, eyes wet and wide. “You... you mean that?”

“Spencer. I love you. All of you. Even the parts that hurt.”

Your thumbs caught his tears. His mouth found yours again with desperate, uneven heat, his hands tangling in your hair.

That was when you felt the change—like something in him broke open.

He let you guide him to the bedroom, let you push him gently onto the mattress, watching you with feverish, disbelieving eyes as you straddled his hips.

You tugged his shirt over his head and pressed kisses to every inch of pale skin, your lips lingering on old scars, on the places where tattoos or brands of the system had faded but never fully disappeared.

His breath stuttered when you unbuttoned your blouse.

“Please,” he rasped.

You smiled, slow and aching. “I’m here.”

His hands were trembling when he ran them over your bare back, pulling you flush against him, his cock hard and twitching between you. You ground against him slowly, making him gasp, shiver, cling.

When you finally guided him inside you, it was careful at first, deliberate.

But he didn’t stay careful.

He let go.

His fingers bruised your hips. His breath came in hot, desperate moans against your throat. He kept apologizing, and you kept silencing him with your mouth, your body rocking against his.

When he came, he sobbed.

You held him through it.

After, you let him roll you over so he could bury his face against your chest, his breathing harsh but calming.

He whispered, broken and quiet, that he loved you.

You kissed the crown of his hair and told him you loved him too.

Eventually, finally, you both slept.

You woke before dawn.

You lay there a long moment, watching the tiny crease between his brows, even relaxed as he was. You ran a fingertip over his cheekbone. He looked so peaceful.

And you thought about what you could do.

He’d mentioned once—offhand, in one of those encyclopedic rambles you adored—that there was this bakery he loved as a kid, that he hadn’t had it in years. You realized you knew the place. It wasn’t too far.

You pressed a final kiss to his forehead, slipped from the bed as quietly as you could, and dressed in the half-light.

He didn’t stir.

You smiled.

Spencer woke to an empty bed.

The cold sheets.

The apartment silent.

His chest caved in with dread so visceral he thought he might throw up.

She left.

Of course she left.

Last night had been too much. He’d dumped all of it on her, sobbed in her arms, fucked her like he was starved. And she’d said she wouldn’t go, but people said things in the moment.

They didn’t mean it.

Not once they saw.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, fingers twisting in his hair.

He felt so stupid.

So sure he’d ruined everything.

He almost didn’t hear the key in the lock.

He flinched at the sound, then froze, listening.

“Spencer?”

Your voice, soft, uncertain.

He surged off the bed, tripping over his own feet, heart slamming.

You were standing in the doorway, bags in both hands.

You blinked at him, confused.

“Hey. Good morning? Sorry—I tried to be quiet so you could sleep...”

He stared at you.

And then, helplessly, his voice cracked.

“You didn’t leave?”

Your face fell in instant, horrified understanding. You dropped the bags on the counter and rushed to him.

“Oh my god. Oh, baby. No. No. Come here.”

You pulled him in, arms wrapping around his waist.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered fiercely against his shoulder.

He trembled under your hands.

“You were gone—”

“I went to get you your favorite pastry. Look.” You pulled back just enough to fumble the bag open, showing the warm, flaky thing he’d once mentioned missing so much.

His vision blurred.

You watched him, so worried.

“Spencer,” you said softly, firmly. “I love you. I want you. All of you.”

He buried his face against your neck, inhaling you like air.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he choked out.

“You won’t,” you promised. “Not ever.”

He held you so tightly it hurt.

You eventually coaxed him to sit on the bed with you, feeding him bits of the pastry, kissing sugar from his lips, hands tangling in his hair.

He smiled for you then, raw but real.

And you smiled back.

In the pale morning light, you pressed your forehead to his and whispered:

“I’m here. Always.”

His eyes shone with tears.

He exhaled, long and shaking, and let you hold him.

Because for the first time in far too long, he let himself believe you.

[sunassweetheart]

“Triple Trouble” The Series

The Third Miya Sibling with a crush on Suna Rintarou

“Triple Trouble” Masterlist Here!!

Chapter 2: Mini Miya

Christmas break had already passed. You passed all your classes in fall, made a few close friends, and now you felt a lot more comfortable with high school than you had before.

You were in between winter and spring now. You missed the beginning of the school year and wished you could either go back or skip to whenever the sun started to come back out again. Winter was depressing enough already and spring only made it worse, reminding you that there was still so much to go.

Atsumu and Osamu were finally officially starting volleyball season so they were having the time of their lives. You couldn’t exactly say the same. Due to early morning practices every Monday and Wednesday, it was easier for everyone just to have you walk alone. The air was cold and the ground was wet.

You had just entered the school campus when you heard someone shouting your name.

“(Y/N)!”

You turned around to see one of your newest friends and smiled when she caught up to you.

“Hey Fumiko.”

“Hey. Are you going to the boys’s game?”

You nodded your head because of course you would be going. Osamu always made you come. Not that you minded but no way could you ever just not go.

“Mhm. I go to every single one.”

Fumiko chuckled and shrugged her shoulders.

“I always have too.”

From there, it felt like one big loop for the rest of the school year. Wake up, go to school, go to your brothers volleyball game, go home, and go to sleep. It wasn’t like you were so depressed and life was horrible, it was just boring.

It changed though when summer finally came around.

The Inarizaki High boys volleyball team got to the semi-finals before placing third overall in their tournament. Of course, it wasn’t totally ideal but the team still wanted to celebrate it. They all decided to go to the beach and have a bonfire. Everyone was there, including both Fumiko and you.

You sat beside Fumiko while you both munched on your s’mores. Everyone sat around the campfire and talked about what they planned to do in the future. You even got to know the boys a lot better than you already did. Fumiko leaned in to your side and whispered to you.

“Who do you thinks the cutest?”

You rolled your eyes but giggled at her ridiculous question.

“The blonde one is super cute.”

You fake gagged dramatically.

“Ew! Trust me when I tell you, you do not want Atsumu. He’s actually a huge dork.”

Now it was her turn to laugh. You spoke again, looking at a different boy with a small smirk.

“Now he’s so much cuter than my brother.”

You pointed to her own brother, Ren Omimi.

“Ugh! I was being serious, now you’re just messing with me.”

She playfully shoved your shoulder and you both laughed. Then you pointed at another guy.

“And what about him?”

“He looks like higher than a kite.”

“My brothers are best friends with him so I kind of already know him pretty well.”

“Rintarou? I guess so. You can have him though. He creeps me out when he’s always staring right through your soul.”

She poked your sternum and you both giggled.

The night went well and you had so much fun. The end of the school year was a blur but summer was a blast. You created so many new memories before the twins were off to college and were even able to build more connection with other people outside of school.

And then of course, things got complicated. They always did with you. Something always had to go wrong. You were at the mall with a small group of friends from the last school year when a cute guy from your school came up and asked for your number, his friends standing farther back. Your own friends encouraged you to give it up as well. It was an awkward situation and teetered on the edge of embarrassing all together but you gave him it anyway.

Summer passed and you had started dating him officially. You’d hung out with him casually but now you could see him every day at school. However, you didn’t. You’d noticed it fairly quickly, the things he did that you shouldn’t have ever let him get away with but you just passed them off as him being in a bad mood or something of the sort. You saw the red flags waving right in front of your face and continued to date him.

You sat down at one of the round tables in the library, catching up on some work for study hall period. You were just sitting quietly and minding your business when someone sat down right across from you, sliding down to the edge of his seat and leaning back. They took their phone out from their pocket and scrolled. You raised a brow as you looked up from your computer completely.

“Rintarou..?”

“What’s up?”

“Um… can I help you?”

“Nah.” You sat there, confused. Why in the world had Suna Rintarou chosen to plop himself right down next to you? He spoke again. “How have you been, Mini Miya?”

“Mini Miya?”

“Well, you are the youngest Miya, aren’t you?” You didn’t know how to feel about the nickname. It was kind of embarrassing but the thought of him bothering to give you one was kind of nice.

“Seriously, why are you here?”

“I heard you had a boyfriend.” There it is.

“Right, right. So Atsumu and Osamu sent you out to spy on me, huh?”

“Possibly. However, I’m a bit curious myself.” Of course the twins were just setting it all up. Though, the fact that Rintarou may have actually cared a little as well made you curious.

“Yeah, I’m dating a guy.” You swore you could have seen his lips twitch into the slightest smirk before they went back to his regular stoic expression.

“How’s he treating you?”

“He’s treating me fine Rintarou.”

“Just fine? I heard he was a dick.” You rolled your eyes. Of course he was going to be the one to dig into your life now that the twins were in college and couldn’t see you everyday.

“He’s not.”

“Well, maybe he isn’t. I’m just saying that you deserve someone way better than him.” You weren’t exactly sure what to say so you just sat there and let Suna continue to talk.

“I get it, you’re a little second year and you want a boyfriend just like all the other girls do. You just need to be careful. Girls like you don’t deserve just any guy, you deserve someone who’s gonna treat you right.”

“It’s going fine for me so far.” The sound of defense, as you knew things weren’t actually going so well. You had your cheating suspicious, the standoffish personality, and sometimes, the blatant disrespect.

“And maybe it is. I just want you to think about it. Do you actually see yourself in the future with this guy? Sure the twins did ask me to check on you but I also want to look out for you too, you know.” You felt suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy at the thought that maybe this really was straight from the heart and not another attempt at spying on you for the twins. No way though.

“Right. Well, that’s sweet and all but I’m fine. I’m also kind of trying to get things done so if you could spy on me another time, that’d be great.” He chuckled and started to stand back up.

“Hm, you’re right. Seriously though, I just wanna keep our girl safe.”

“Our girl?” You thought the name was ridiculous. How far could spying go before they all formed a pact to watch over you?

“Mhm, our girl. I’ll see you around Mini Miya.” He smirked and ruffled your hair on the way past, walking out of the library without another word. You looked back at your screen but you were pretty sure your brain just broke down after that. You shut your computer with an annoyed groan.

Haikyuu Masterlist Here! ���� Main Masterlist Here!

tag list: @haechansbbg @smellysluna @nishinoyaismycutie @lilsebnem

[miusoju]

DEJA BOO ─── riku maeda

you barely know riku—he’s just that cute guy you see in class and at the campus cafe. but somehow, you keep bumping into him… like, a lot....

cw: riku x fem!reader, fluff, mutual pinning, university au, crack, classmates to lovers, not proofread ( sorrynotsorry ) 2132 wordcount

◜ ᴗ ◝ 　 first fic... ohemgee! honestly, im surprised i was able to write 2k... like, you go sua! anywho listen to deja boo by jonghyun... its perfect!

🗯 — SCHOOL CAFE : 7:48AM you didn’t even know riku that well, only seen him in shared classes and at the campus café, but gosh, it felt like you’d known him forever—a weird glitch that somehow got stuck on repeat in your brain. maybe it was just your imagination making excuses to get closer, but who knows?

it felt strangely natural when your hands touched—well, actually, you were both reaching for the last iced latte at the café. your fingers collided with a soft zap, like static electricity but way less romantic. riku looked up at you, pulling his hand away to let you take the drink. “well, that was a surprise. déjà-vu?” he joked.

you snorted, rolling your eyes at the cringe-worthy joke. “is that really your best line?” you huffed, making him hide his face in embarrassment, his ears turning red by the second. you patted his back, handing him his latte, then grabbed his wrists. “i think déjà boo would fit better.” his hands dropped to his sides immediately after hearing that. “déjà boo?” riku’s brows furrowed as he thought it over, but before he could say anything, you were already out the door, running to your next class. 🗯 — SCHOOL LIBRARY : 4:23PM

you didn’t expect to see him riku again so soon. it had only been a few days since your first encounter with the boy. but here you were, looking for a quiet spot in the school library, and there he was—squatting next to the last copy of the textbook you needed, his fingers wrapped around it. you cleared your throat, looking around—trying your best to look nonchalant, “that’s the last copy…” riku looked up, pushing his hair out of his face. “damn, this is kinda like a glitch…” he spoke softly, making you tilt your head. “still stuck on the deja boo thing?” you teased, a mischievous grin on plastered on your face. “guilty” he mumbled, holding the textbook like it was a prize. riku stood up, taking one more glance at you before sitting himself at the nearby table, rummaging in his bag looking for his supplies. you grabbed a chair nearby, placing it close to riku—not super close, but close enough to see the text on the book. it felt normal, sitting by riku felt normal and not a weird glitch sent by the heavens to curse you. you didn’t mind being in his presence. you also began to write in your notebook, pushing your neck out to look at the notes on the textbook. “um, (reader)?” riku said,  breaking the silence, his eyes focused on the textbook, “wanna share the textbook?” he nudged it toward you. “sure, i actually need this” you chuckled, making riku smile. you push your chair closer to him, bringing all your belongings with you. “we could even share notes, if you want too?” “ugh yes thank you, i was struggling anyway..” you whined, slouching dramatically, making riku laugh. the quiet buzz of the library didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore. maybe this weird “glitch loop” wasn’t a curse, but a blessing. 🗯 — 2 DAYS LATER AT SCHOOL : 3:56PM

this wasn’t supposed to happen— it kinda just happened. classes just ended,the sky looked moody”, and for some weird reason you waited at school a bit longer than normal. by now, you would’ve been on a bus, but not today. and then, there he was, riku, walking out with that cute face, you loved. “hey,” he said, blinking like he didn’t expect you to be there. “hey” you echoed back. the sky cracked open and rain began pouring like it had a personal grudge with you. neither of you had an umbrella, making the situation horrible. “are you kidding me.” you pouted, crossing your hands in shock. riku paused, staring up at the sky and sighing. “i guess not,” he muttered. “i guess we’re living here now..” you whined, making riku snort. the boy reached into his bag, looking for an umbrella as if it would magically appear— it didn’t, ofcourse. “don’t worry, we’ll survive.” riku looked at you like he always did, like he was asking for trust by just looking in your eyes, you nodded subconsciously. without warning, riku held your hand and ran out in the rain, dragging you in the process. “holy!” you squealed, running as fast as you can while covering the rain with your hand. the two of you ran all the way to the nearest bustop, resting on the chairs while heaving out harsh breath. “i can tell you don’t run often..” he joked, making you lightly slap his arm. “ okay, bud.” you rolled your eyes, making riku laugh. “do you always laugh at such bad jokes?” you teased. “can’t help it!” he giggled. and then, it became quiet once again—not forced or awkward, just quiet, basking in the company of each other’s. “you always end up next to me, weird…” he mumbled, almost to quiet to hear. “it’s the deja boo, duh” riku pushed you softly before bursting into laughter again, “you seriously need to let that go!” once the rain cleared up, the two of you took the bus and walked to the dorms, smiling and cracking jokes, trying to ignore the fact that your hands kept brushing near each other, and none of you pulled away. 🗯 — CAMPUS DORMS : 7:01PM

it’s been a few hours since the unprompted surprise run with riku and you were laying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly through your contacts, when your thumb slipped and accidentally called the one person you weren’t supposed to call, riku. “oh god,” you whispered, seeing the call screen pop up. before you could even end the call, you heard a voice call your name. “ (reader)?” riku’s voice came through, a bit surprised. “didn’t mean to call you, sorry!” you mumbled, placing your hand on your forehead in shame. “it’s alright, what’s up?” he said, a bit of cheer laced his voice. you paused, “nothing much, just bored as hell..” there was a brief moment of silence before riku chuckled, “same honestly.” you shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you. “honestly, school has been a pain.” you whined, you could hear riku agreeing with you. “literally, i might die from all this work!” he exclaimed. “anywho, since this conversation is obviously dying, can we pretend that me calling you was on purpose,” you chuckled, “or maybe it was deja boo…” riku whispered, “stop saying that, gosh!” you chimed, making riku burst into laughter. “i swear that was only one time!” riku tried and compose himself on the line, which made you feel a bit warm-hearted. “if you say deja boo one more time, i’ll crack your head open!” you joked, “okay okay, i promise!” he responded, you could tell he had a cheeky grin on his face. the conversation flowed easily after that ice-breaker—talking about everything under the sun, from school, to life, and random dreams you had. riku mumbled something that piqued your interest, “holdon, what did you say?” you asked. riku began stuttering random excuses which made you even more curious, “spit it out!” you whined, fidgeting with your fingers as you waited for a response. “let me take you out,” he muttered, his voice soft and no longer giggly. your eyes widened from the sudden request, a date? was riku really going to take you out on a date? “on a date?” “what— well no, i wasn’t thinking of a date…” riku heard a sigh emit from your lips, “y’know what, yeah, let me take you out on a date.” he stated, which made you cheer. “okay dork,” you snorted, riku exclaimed some random chatter but before you could understand anything he was saying, you ended the call— placing your phone onto your chest like a school girl getting a date to prom. 🗯 — SCHOOL LIBRARY : 6:49PM

it was the day after, and somehow—again— you caught yourself sitting next to riku in the same library. he texted you in the morning asking if you would like to “suffer” with him. you said yes before you could even process it. your textbook was open, pens scattered across the table, and riku chewing on the cap of the highlighter. “take this, i hate seeing you not do anything for like 3 minutes,” you joked, taking a quick glance at his face as you passed him a sticky note with answers on it.  as he reached for it, you could feel it—his fingers grazing yours—barely, but still enough to make your heart flutter. you didn’t pull away this time. your brain short circuited for half of a second, but you forced yourself to look at the notes that were on your notebook. act normal, don’t be weird, you recited to yourself over and over again as if it was a prayer. “thanks,” riku said, and for some weird reason it was like his voice was softer— like a soft warm cloud— “are you free this friday?” he snapped you out of your daze, making you slightly jolt. “you were being serious?!” you blurted, quickly slapping your hand on your mouth before your screams could fill the library. “yes (reader), i was being very serious.” your heartbeat quickened as the situation set in. “yeah, sure, whatever..” you said coldly, looking around all nonchalant as you crossed your hands. “nevermind,” he rolled his eyes, making the whole act crumble. “i’m sorry!! okay, yes, i am free on friday, jeez!!” he laughed at your quick shift in behaviour. “good, be ready, okay?” you nodded, which made a cheeky smile appear on his face. you truly were about to faint from how pretty this man was. “so like what’s the answer for question 145?” he suddenly said, ruining the moment for you. “seriously dude…” you sighed, which made riku chuckle.

🗯 — CAMPUS DORM GATE : 8:00PM

you weren’t really expecting anything big, in fact, you didn’t expect anything at all, but here you stood, all dolled up and standing near the campus gates, looking for your date. all riku said on the text and quote on quote, “just trust me, you’ll love it.” gosh, he knew how to make you so goddamn curious. he met you by the gate at you stood in shock as he stood in front of you, dressed up too cute for someone who said this was going to be a casual date. “ready to be blown away,” he grinned as he took your bag, you rolled your eyes like always before walking, “okay don’t go stroke your ego..” you giggled, “i do not stroke my own ego!” he exclaimed. riku ended up taking you to a tiny arcade across town—kinda quiet, with only 5 or so people roaming the place, but it was cute. the neon lights buzzed overhead as you stepped inside, and riku ran over to the nearest claw machine like it was the last one on earth. “ain’t no way you dragged me here to play rigged claw games..” you asked, eyebrow raised. “well no, i dragged you here to win you a prize,” you sighed at his remark, placing your fingertips on your forehead in a joking manner. he squinted in concentration, trying his best to grab a squirrel plush, but of course, he failed. three times to be exact. “you’re so bad at this it’s kinda impressive,” you snorted, bumping your shoulder against his. “i love your encouragement!” his voice was laced with sarcasm. eventually after wasting all of his coins and almost entering a mini meltdown, he finally got it—and shoved the cute plush into your hands with a silly grin. “now that i’m taking a good look at it, it looks offbrand..” he blinked, leaning over to look at the face of the squirrel. “oh god, did i really waste all my coins on this…” you laughed so hard that your stomach began to hurt. later that night, the two of you sat on a curb outside, eating cheap ice cream from a nearby ice cream shop, trying your best to lick all the melted icecream as fast as possible, and talking about absolutely nothing. “this was actually really fun,” you admitted, riku nodded, his legs swinging a bit from the complement. “like i said, trust me” riku smiled, licking his ice cream once again. “it feels like a glitch of some sort… or maybe..” you groaned, already knowing what he was about to say. “don’t—” “deja boo!” you threw your napkin at him and he bursted into laughter. again. but this time you didn’t mind. he was right, it was a deja boo. “does this mean that we can date now?” you rested your head on his shoulder, “yes riku, we can date now, you weirdo.” you snorted—just like always.

© all rights to miusoju '25.

[chlauraform]

okkkkk well guess this is gonna be primarily trans and gay stuff cause thats something i could talk sbout for who knows how long, but im also sure not many people are interested in me talking about i dunno frank zappa or something.

soooo heres a little storytime i guess cause it features an important topic when people like me come out for the first time. my first experience with coming out was like incredibly heartbreaking. and id just love to talk about how actually horrible it can feel to come out to someone and have them be dismissive while not being "aggressive" per se, which is something im pretty sure most folks like me are gonna be worried about. were a minority after all. and people are dickheads.

so. a little bit of a backstory on why this even happened. id say a couple of months after i figured myself out and also started feeling gender dysphoria quite often, i would usually look quite sad most of the time. indifferent and bored, at best. i kind of still struggle with pretending im happy when im not, cause after some time, i really cant do much.

anyways, i was just casually walking somewhere with my sister and i assume she noticed, well, how i am. and then she started pressuring me. until i cried and just admitted that im trans. yeah, so immediatly im practically outing myself without wanting to. that shouldve immediatly been a huge warning to me, but i gave her the benefit of the doubt.

the reason for that benefit of the doubt is because in the past years, she has been a very, very accepting, progressive and socially radical person. from gay people to trans people to womens rights, you name it. but that changed. and im not gonna go into details how, since thats not my businees, but overall, shes now not that.

basically, after i told her, she maintained the position of still loving me and supporting me in absolutely everything and whatnot. then again, she said that ill "always be her brother" and also that im "too young to know this yet". now if theres anything i know best, it would be myself, even if im still practically just a teenager. frankly, at that point, i just kinda wanted to collapse. i played it off as being fine and just never mentioned it again to her.

it felt like i was being shoved back in the closet, like im being ignored and also like shes just trying to make me just think im cis or something. and after realising that, frankly, id rather she just called me a slur and told me she hated me or something. because theres something incredibly painful about getting not only my hopes up, but also feeling like shes gonna support me, only to be met with a complete contradiction and frankly belittling comment.

you cannot claim to be supportive while calling me your brother. i am not that. dont act like a saint because you arent hucking slurs at me. at the same time, i despise the assumption that someone like me is too young to know their gender, sexual orientation or whatever that isnt the norm. just like with typical heteronormativity, kids can know that theyre straight, but not that theyre gay. absolutely not, theyre too young for that. the same goes for gender.

and all this dilemma just lead to her completely ignoring it ever happened. still misgendering me, still calling me by my deadname. all while knowing exactly who i am.

then again, i dont care, cause i know myself, i know who i am and what i want to become. hell, a lot of people will go through something similar if not worse. ive accepted this kind of attempted fence-sitting as a total bullshit excuse and i wont bother with it.

phew that was a lot. again, actually. clearly i like getting the big sads out this way.

no but seriously to think even a few people will look at this and think "damn, i can relate" or just read through it totally randomly.

thanks yall!!!!!

sleep time gwuh

[peachesnplums95]

Again another post I disagree with because Mei is not a hateful and vindictive person. Once more I kindly ask for people to stop mischaracterizing not only Macaque, but the other characters to justify their own qualms with Macaque.

Because Mei would not be so hateful towards Macaque, sure she might still be a little hurt by what he did, but she would not downright be his "number one hater."

Mei is not a hateful person in general, and she seems more than willing to give grace to people that have wronged her and the others.

The main pieces of evidence is even though people wrong her she is quick to forgive, like when MK broke her bike during the race episode, and also she even seems willing to forgive people wrong MK so long as they try to be better and do right by MK. (like Wukong who did leave MK behind) she seems to forgive him.

We never see Wukong apologizing to Mei for his part in keeping the Samadhi Fire secret and how Mei was basically the fourth ring. We also never see Wukong apologizing to Mei for putting MK in danger.

Sure we get Wukong apologizing to MK but we never see Wukong apologizing on screen to Mei about keeping that part of her being the fourth ring a secret nor do we see him apologize to her for putting MK in danger. Yet evidence in the show such as a picture of Wukong and Mei in Wukong's newly rebuilt shack paints a clear picture that Wukong and Mei probably moved past those past grievances.

Then there's Redson, who might I remind you time and time again came after her, MK and the others many times. We still haven't seen Redson apologize for his actions and what he did during his time being a villain. Redson was one of the main people who helped LBD come back in the first place, without him coming and taking the key, then LBD wouldn't have been set free as she was.

Yet Mei has welcomed him with open arms and treats him with kindness and compassion.

Also Mei is not going to be quick to be furious if and when they learn how Wukong and Macaque fell out. Painting her as such a furious and angry and spiteful character is not a good look.

I doubt she would immediately jump to anger, and instead try and understand what happened before casting judgement. Especially after all the time that Macaque has fought by their side now, and has shown genuine change and that he's a better person than he was by way of his actions. Actions speak louder than words most of the time, Macaque could apologize to everyone until he's blue in the face but it doesn't mean a thing unless he backs it up with a genuine show of change. He's been showing how he's changed by standing with the group time and time again.

Painting Mei as such a hateful character is doing a disservice to her character, and it is painful that people would paint her in such a horrible light as being as such. When she's actually not a character to hold such hatred towards others and is actually a very forgiving person, she forgave Redson and probably Wukong too for their wrongdoings when it came to MK and as well DBK and Princess Iron Fan, as far as we can tell. So why wouldn't she be able to forgive Macaque too or treat him with grace and understanding as to why he did what he did while he was just trying to survive?

Especially given the fact that the DBK Family, which she has seemingly forgiven, did all the things they did for power, so if she can forgive the DBK Family for their wrongdoings when they were only in it for power and taking over the world and what not. Then she can surely forgive Macaque when his entire reason for doing what he did was for survival, which is more understandable in comparison than just wanting power and to take over the world like the DBK family.

The only thing I agree with is that yes, if Macaque ever did go after MK again which is probably not going to happen, then she wouldn't hesitate to defend MK and fight Macaque.

But anyways, Mei would not be Macaque's number one hater and I don't understand how anyone could believe this when Mei is one of the most forgiving people on the show.

OP I am genuinely confused about your line of thinking, especially when you say you love Macaque. Yet you seem to want to tear him down at every turn, and you think that other characters genuinely would hate him/despise him for things he did in the past and the present that he's trying to make up for now and be better from? Like we see them welcoming him into their group dynamic and including him in the beach party, and into their lives and they seem to have no issues fighting side by side with him.

How do you get any sense of hatred from Mei or anyone else on the Monkie Kid Crew towards Macaque, when they've basically welcomed him into their team and seemingly don't have issues interacting with him or fighting side by side with him. Heck Mei even made a funny little joke at Macaque's expense when she and MK were talking about how they were used to their enemies being recycled Wukong's old enemies and Mei said, with a cheeky little smile:

"Or your ex best friend."

If she's that comfortable joking around about Macaque and his past actions, then I doubt she hates him. Could she still be a little hurt from what he did? Inarguably.

But hatred? Yeah no. I don't think so, I'm sorry I just can't see it. Please let's stop mischaracterizing characters and their dynamics to another character just to justify bashing on said character.

It's possible to talk about your own qualms about a character without doing a disservice to the characterizations of other characters.

Mei will probably be the number one hater of Macaque. Why? Will my dear friends allow me.

Hurting MK and traumatizing him.

The samadhi fire was forced to awaken by him.

Macaque not apologizing towards his wrongdoings to her and especially MK.

She will be furious to find out he left his best friend (You know who) and make it worse he blames all his problems and wrongdoings to him, cause he said "it's completely justified, because he left me behind and killed me."

She gets the fact being killed by someone you care about and hating them is justified, but basically blaming them for everything, he ever done even though it's his own choice is the most stupid thing she heard.

She's only nice because why not? She's a kind gal but won't hesitate to pummel him if he dared to hurt MK again.

[somuchbetterthanthat]

Can you imagine surviving the bloody apocalypse only for your husband to die a month later of an extremely easily-fixed-before-all-this medical emergency???

Besides which Alice clearly has also lost her parents and possibly her brother, no WONDER she's desperately holding on to the glimpse of her Sam in her nightmares, no wonder she absolutely jump at the thought of Sam just reappearing, out of nowhere-

[vamperrvert]

saw techno’s tribute scene in the minercaft movie so i thought i should honor his name by turning him into an awesome fucking pig with an axe

[awomanunkind]

new to me 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[return-of-the-vegetable]

[...] something feels missing from your life.

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

james keeps dying so prominently and hes like, literally so coworker-core to me. hes the nice guy who you depend on but arent really friends with, doesn’t really seem to do anything outside of work. he can fix the copy machine really easy. and the princess KILLED him in the DESERT.

[askinsufferableprick]

is this thing working?

oh shit it is this is officially happening lets fuckin go

ok so uh welcome ladies, gents n such to the offical ask blog for the world renowned creator of SBHJ and various other cool blogs i know yall got a billion questions such as whos that super cool dude on camera there's no way that's the one and only dave strider himself i knew he was a epic dude but this is way beyond anything i could have imagined how does such a famous and busy guy got the time for yet another dope as hell blog or like hey doesnt putting your name and face up online go against like basic internet safety protocol all valid questions guess you gotta go throw some asks in that empty as fuck ask box if you want any of the answers

[irenespring]

Thoughts on Bertha Russell (Many Thoughts)

I am So curious about Bertha Russell's backstory. We have little snippets:

Her father was a potato farmer.

She has lots of mommy issues. (George mentions her mother said she was the only child "worthy of her dreams" to which Bertha angrily responds that her mother's dreams were worthless because she died with nothing which is A Lot)

She has sibling issues. (George offers to invite her sister to a thing and she refuses)

She and George met when they were both poor, they made the fortune together.

She had a distinct learning curve when they first got to New York. She bought The Wrong House and made The Wrong Friends and had to learn and relearn things over a period of years. (I am especially interested about this time, because she would know Nothing, being the ultimate outsider, but she is a tactical genius and viciously ambitious...I want to see young!Bertha in the early stages of the struggle before she knows how to dress/talk/act).

I hope we will learn more about her because more than any of the other characters she wants things. Things that are nebulous, but she doesn't seem to realize are nebulous, because she has clear goals but they don't satisfy her so she has to make another goal. Loving husband doing well? Not enough. They have enough money to hear the call of the guillotine? It's not enough, they need status. They have status? Not enough, they need to beat Lina Astor. Now they've beaten Lina Astor, but I don't think anyone thinks that's going to be enough. George points out multiple times that he is content where he is and content to let their children marry for love to people of what Bertha considers middling station. She's the sole driving force for continued social climbing. And it doesn't matter how high they get, she wants to go higher, she wants to go "all the way" but there isn't an all the way unless I guess you're Empress of the World. But then the moon starts looking awfully conquerable.

She claims she's doing it for their children, but both children have said her suggestions aren't what they want. And it is heavily implied she just sold her only daughter to the Duke so he would attend an opera performance. She wants Gladys to marry the Duke so that she will be grandmother to English nobility. It's for her. So she is willing to use her children, her alleged motivation, as pawns. They aren't her real motivation after all, even if she may think they are. I do think she loves her children and George. I also think that she thinks she's helping Gladys, but I also think there's a limit to that love because it exists beside the yawning void of hunger within her psyche. George outright asks her if his love for her is enough to make her happy early in s1, because her love is enough for him. She says it's "almost enough" and that's significant and enough for him, which is telling, when usually any answer other than "yes of course" would be taken by a love interest as a searing betrayal. Anyway, the point is, her kids/her family are, at least, not her entire motivation and might not factor into her motivation at all, if she is fully honest with herself.

So, the hunger. The call to Rise. The rage that has her hyperventilating in bed alone after her failed party instead of crying in her husband's arms like most television characters would do. The instinct to look upon a room of people and think you will all bow to me you sniveling mortals. Why is it there? Like...why is she Like This? I think some of it has to come from what we can learn just from George's comment about impossibly ambitious, ruthless, low empathy Bertha being the only one "worthy of her mother's dreams." Which means her mother had dreams that were very important to her and that she never achieved. Her mother also guarded said dreams and judged her children harshly, we know Bertha has at least one sister, who is apparently judged not worthy in the eyes of her own mother. We know Bertha does not like talking about this and tries to dismiss it. Was there pressure on Bertha to be worthy? When could that have started and how did it manifest? Circling back to my interest in young!Bertha in NY, if the social rejection was bad in s1, it was probably worse then, and constant social failures would have made her angrier and more determined to both to become the queen of New York society and to see it burn. This is all stuff I want to learn more about in season 3.

HERE IS WHERE I PRETTY MUCH JUST DO PREDICTIONS (WHICH MAY BE TINFOIL, IDK):

Because I think we will finally get to see Bertha Russell: Season Villain. Every season needs a villain, and Bertha has pretty much vanquished all of them. The first couple seasons the overarching villain has been New York Society with its inequalities and pointless social cruelty, if that holds, Bertha is now the head of that system, having beaten Lina Astor and set herself up as the queen. Additionally, side opponents (not really villains) like Agnes also aren't in a position to make major problems for the protagonists because the Van Rhijn household is now the Forte household and cinnamon roll Ada is now in charge. Unless Agnes attempts to usurp her sister in a subplot (which I don't think will happen except for maybe one episode of hijinx) she's not in a powerful spot. The Society character is indisputably Bertha. And Bertha has been up to some serious villain shit. If she did agree to marry Gladys to the Duke, she's now against All the Protagonists---a sure sign of villain status. She's even against her husband, who swore to back Gladys in her choice of love match, and Gladys doesn't like the Duke. If Gladys wants out, Larry will almost certainly help her. And Saint Marian will help Larry either for love reasons or moral reasons, and hopefully Peggy has better things to do but she will probably get dragged into it somehow and if Marian's involved Ada's also involved and you see where this is going.

Also, show pacing wise, Bertha is due for a loss. I love her and I want her to win everything and be declared Empress of Earth and Moon but realistically that isn't going to happen. In a show where villains lose, it checks out. Gladys isn't going to marry the Duke, and if she does, everyone is going to regret it. One reason I think we will learn more about Bertha and her history is because if she loses she's going to Lose It. Dramatic monologue style. When she had a party and no one came she swore eternal vengeance and spent the night Angry Breathing and presumably fantasizing about the Red Wedding. She doesn't handle losing well. A big public loss after achieving every status symbol she could think of would probably break her mind, and she'll probably tell whoever she's talking to (probably George) enough backstory info that we the audience can fill in stuff. This is also where I would guess she and George would reconcile where he would see she is the person he loves and has not transformed into an automaton, she's just Messed Up, which he always knew and loved so he is Back In.

IN CONCLUSION:

This is who Marina was writing about. She is a primadonna girl, and all she ever wanted was the world. She cannot help that she needs it all, in this case the primadonna life: both the rise and the fall. She also knows exactly what she wants and who she wants to be. This is why she walks and talks like a machine. Unfortunately, she is becoming a self-fulfilled prophecy.

Oh, oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh.

[siratonin]

No, you see, because even buck was like, "i figured he would've told you???".... because tommy and eddie were friends goddammit, and he just stopped talking to him? I hate that