#flat iron building

[prinnay]

Sunrise books, vinyl, cd, buy, sell, trade

#book store #artists on tumblr #flat iron building #storefronts art #fox friends

[kafkasapartment]

Winter Icon, 2016. Evgeny Lushpin. Giclee: AP (Embellished by the Artist)

#photography #fotografia #fotografie #photographie #color #flat iron building #new york #winter #snow #foto

[bexx1things]

#flat iron building #new york city

[0rph3u5]

there's an old film (end of the 50s) where Jimmy Stewart throws his hat off the top of this building, he was with Kim Novak

#original photography #original photographers on tumblr #flat iron building #NYC

[mirtapersonal]

beautiful Peglica (”flat iron”)

#zadar #photo #peglica #flat iron building #architecture

[illbegonebynight]

#mine #nyc #new york #empire state building #broadway #23rd st #flat iron #flat iron building

[jhiggwv]

The Flat Iron Building in 1903 - One Year After Construction was Completed

The Flat Iron Building in 1903 – One Year After Construction was Completed

The Flatiron Building, formerly known as the Fuller Building, is a triangular 22-story, 285-foot-tall landmarked structure at 175 Fifth Avenue in New York City’s Flatiron District. It was built in 1902, and the structure originally consisted of twenty stories, designed by Daniel Burnham and Frederick P. Dinkelberg. [In addition to being found at the intersection of Fifth Avenue, Broadway, and…

View On WordPress

#flat iron building #new York city

[kirbyskisses]

i heard gotham is in new jersey, if gotham is new york then what is metropolis?

gotham geographically was placed in nj during the run of tom king starting in 2011. but i hate him and i hate those comics. i am also from nyc so i am obligated to hate jersey. so no.

gotham and metropolis are both based on nyc, explicitly (except for the dark knight movies where it’s very clearly chicago.)

so except for those two things, gotham is in new york state.

and metropolis is in delaware.

they are both just going “what if NYC was shaped the same, but in a slightly different part of the coast?”

#The Gotham city is a nickname for New York which is where they got the name from #they have the same landmarks too #The Statue of Liberty and the flat iron building are both in Gotham #Riverside Drive and Rockefeller Center are both in Metropolis #kirby’s asks🌸 #batman #gotham #New York

[mishkakagehishka]

corks how tf do u walk so much. my dorm is at the top of the hill and most of my classes are like halfway down it and making that walk both up and down is killer. my ankles hurt. my hips hurt. it makes my chest hurt. help

For me it's a case of getting used to (i walked some 10min uphill today to get to my hairdresser's and it killed me bc. I took public transport all the time here and fell out of the habit of walking), but don't you have chronic pain or smth of the sort? I vaguely remember you mentioning smth like that :[ honestly my suggestion sucks, but i'd say: leave earlier than you "have to" so you can take breaks to avoid overexerting yourself.

My commute's most annoying part is the 15min walk from my stop to my college. And it took 20ish min at first bc i had to take it slow until i got used to it.

#like if you're abled/don't suffer from chronic pain #it's pretty much a case of getting used to it #bc walking is also a workout believe it or not #idk how to translate kondicija - but it's like stamina specifically for physical workouts #walking builds kondicija so you can walk more. if you don't walk your leg muscles weaken with time and you have to build kondicija up again #your chest might hurt if you're overexerting yourself. walk slower - nothing embarrassing ab being slow #you can take in your surroundings better that way too :] #for hips idk but for ankles - find a good pair of shoes #for me converse SUCK for walking or running. they're too flat and kill my ankles. i usually walk in heels/wedges bc i need that #support ironically lmao (plus heels fix my posture) #anyway. yeah if it's chronic pain you're sol sadly but if not just try to build up your stamina #either way. take it easy take it slow keep a water bottle in your bag and don't be embarrassed to take a break if you need one #asks

[hellonew-yorkgirl]

5. Ein sonniger Tag im Central Park, Midtown und Union Square

5. Tag Sonntag 22.10.2023Hotel: TRYP by Wyndham, Times Square South, 345 W 35th St L. (14 J.): „Da waren so viele Bräute, die da Fotos gemacht haben, eine Frau im weißen Kleid nach der anderen. Das war nicht mehr normal.“ Heute Morgen sind wir wieder früh aufgestanden und konnten dieses Mal in einen blauen, sonnigen Himmel gucken. Wir haben als erstes K. und L. Vater per Video zum Geburtstag…

View On WordPress

#Amerika #Aprikosen-Tarte #Barnes & Nobles #Bethesda Fountain #Bryant Park #Central Park #Cheese Cake #Fish’s Eddy #Guacamole #Hard Rock Cafe #Iron Flat Building #Madison Square Park #New York #Public Libary #Reisen #Roadtrip #Starbucks Cafe #Städtetrip #Strawberry Fields #Times Square #Travel #Union Square #USA #Zabars

[lxkeee]

Reader being Adam's third wife and Lucifer trying to rizz her up but she was giving him a hard time trying to rizz her

THE DEVIL HAS HIS OWN CHARMS

Notes: I know Lucifer is oozing with rizz but I liked to believe that he'll do that one meme where he just kneels and begs and keeps on saying "please, please, please" just kidding.

Reader is a heaven born angel, one of the oldest. Same age as Lucifer.

When she met Adam, Adam wasn't as bad as the current him. Adam before was nicer and it led [y/n] to fall in love with him.

As many years passed by, Adam became a little shit.

That lead to their divorce.

She was done with him, tired of him.

You know that saying when a girl is done with her s/o they are literally done? Yeah, she was flat out done with him.

Thankfully, they didn't have any kids.

Adam was pissed at this and decided to annoy her.

She was pissed at him and cussing him out, telling him that he's a sore loser for not being able to keep any of his three wives.

And since heaven had an obvious favoritism on him, that led to [y/n] well... Falling out of grace.

After falling, she actually hid away from the king of hell himself.

She hid away from the demons by being in her animal form, she chose to take the form of a crow to blend in with the environment of hell.

That is until she heard about the hotel.

She didn't plan on redeeming herself, no, no.

She didn't want to go back up.

But she planned on helping Charlie Morningstar.

When she joined, they were surprised to see a fallen angel at their door.

Vaggie didn't trust her at first but eventually did.

[y/n] mostly hid in the hotel and barely left the building.

Since they only had Angel Dust as their first guest, she decided to help around and improve the hotel.

When Lucifer decided to visit for the first time the hotel that his daughter is working on. None of the sinners caught his eyes until he was toured around the hotel by his daughter, his daughter's girlfriend Maggie, and the damn radio demon. As they were walking through the hallway, someone appeared on the corner and talked to Charlie for something.

His jaw dropped, a little.

The woman was gorgeous.

For a brief moment he wondered if she was an angel that came from heaven to release him from his sins.

Scratch that, she's making him sin even more.

Charlie introduces her to him and him to her.

Lucifer found out her name is [y/n] and he made sure to remember that. He also found out that the woman was helping his daughter.

He's so madly in love. It's ridiculous, he just met her for his sake!

[y/n] didn't stay long as she quickly left. Which saddened him a little.

A new reason to visit the hotel more.

For the next few weeks, Lucifer visits—twice to thrice a week.

During his time at the hotel he would try to make small talk with the woman that caught his interest.

Trying to get to know her but the woman is so closed off.

He tried to be smooth with his words but she only looked at him up and down with an unamused expression.

His pride is shattered, ironic as he is the symbol of pride.

He ranted about it to Charlie and in which the girl told him that he might be developing a crush.

Jaw dropped. In disbelief.

He denies it but ended up thinking about it the whole night.

He ended up removing his wedding ring as he thought he should actually move on now.

And he actually finally agrees that he is actually coming down with a crush.

On you.

So next time he visits he discreetly flirts with you.

Always ending up with you not being interested.

He's just trying so hard okay? It felt so forced.

Anyways, Lucifer received an advice from Charlie that he should be his authentic self.

And that's where he stopped forcing to make himself sexy or flirty.

And be his usual dorky self.

Which caught you off guard but not dismissing it, in fact you preferred this over how he acted a few days ago.

You and Lucifer slowly gotten to know each other.

The way his jaw dropped when you revealed you're a fallen angel and am ex-wife of Adam.

“Wait! You're a fallen angel and also divorced too? Well, so am I!”

You just laughed at how adorable he is.

Though, Lucifer did ask what happened and you just told him about Adam and how Adam is a little shit and you're basically over him.

You two bonded over your hate for heaven.

And eventually two months later you got together and let's say, Lucifer is certainly a better lover than that piece of shit Adam.

Let's just say Lucifer made you feel the pleasure you haven't properly experienced.

Lucifer did make sure to show it off to Adam's face when he fought the man.

#lxkeee answers #lxkeee updates #hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel x reader

[headspace-hotel]

i'm...thinking about writing a book?

I mean. I feel really silly at the thought because i'm not like a scientist or anything, i'm barely at the beginning of my knowledge journey, but...being a writer was what I always wanted to do. It's what I've been doing ever since I could remember. And I'm constantly, constantly just so full of things that I want to tell the whole world. I will have a realization or idea and think, oh my god. Everyone needs to know this. But I can't tell everyone. I'm not good at talking.

I'm good at writing. But I will sit down to write a post on my silly little blog and get so overwhelmed by the SCALE of everything I want to say.

I think I've already started to write a book. I think the space for these ideas to fill is already the size of a book and it will never have any smaller of a size, and no one else will come along to write the book, and no one else CAN write the book, and IT HAS TO BE WRITTEN.

I want to write about the ways of the plants, of course. I want to teach how to transplant and how to gather seeds and the properties of keystone species...but more importantly, I want to write about how to learn the ways of the plants. I want to promote the habit of insatiable curiosity and intense observation. I want to show everyone that everything everywhere is infinitely interesting and mysterious, and if you pay attention to the plants, they will teach you.

I want to write about Symbiosis. I want to write about how we are connected to every other thing, how we have our own ecological niche as Caretakers, and our own special adaptations of curiosity and love. I want to write about how the ecosystem needs us to participate in it, not to cut ourselves off from it, and how our powerful influence on ecosystems can be for good or for bad. We are not a disease. We are a Keystone Species.

I want to discourage this Euro-centric idea that sees humans as separate, and recommend more reading from indigenous points of view that understands ecosystems better and sees humans as participants in nature, engaging in a reciprocal symbiotic relationship. I want to speak against all this talk about removing humans from half of the Earth or reducing the human population, and show other people that despair and fear make you paralyzed and powerless, but hope is powerful.

The most important and powerful thing you can do for your ecosystem is to love it. It is necessary to have hope for the future—to learn to imagine a future of restoration and renewal, and to build community with other people working toward that future.

If we don't imagine a future for our ecosystems, imagine them boldly and audaciously in ways that feel crazy and impossible, those futures will not happen. But just the act of saying, "This WILL happen. We WILL be okay." gives you the strength and energy to fight and it gives you the creativity to come up with solutions you never could have thought of before.

And I feel I have to explain, how did I end up listening to plants? And how did the teachings become so important that I had to write about them? There's this black, swallowing abyss underpinning all of who I am, some intimation of a reality so terrible the human spirit breaks beneath it. I had a mental health crisis back in 2021 where I was pulled deep into that abyss, and when I started rescuing little plants and caring for them, I was basically re-learning how to be human.

I feel like I was seeking answers to "How am I supposed to live in this world?" in the natural world because the human world of poetry and books and articles and think-pieces had utterly failed me in that regard. I had taken multiple poetry classes where I had read all the best contemporary poems, and all the poets just wrote flat, plodding, blunt descriptions of their trauma and despair. Nothing is wrong with these topics, but the worst part was how these authors didn't even take themselves seriously; they had to be detached and ironic about their own pain, like a snarky dystopian novel hero who jokes casually about the horrific reality they live in so the reader knows that this reality is normal and unremarkable to them—and even more importantly, that the hero is ironic and cool instead of responding in a vulnerable, human way.

And speaking of dystopian novels...there were a lot of those! It was like all the visions of the future I had read were dystopian. Even I had been writing a dystopian novel. But I realized that I wasn't wise enough to tell that story yet. I didn't know why at first. But then, as I was reading everything people were writing about climate change, I began to realize.

I saw a lot of patterns between the way people wrote about climate change and the tendencies of self-harm and self-defeat that gnawed inside me. Suicide was something that I had never struggled against, but I understood that suicide was only the most striking manifestation of a self-annihilating way. Sometimes you feel like by hurting yourself, you are being transgressive, exercising autonomy against an absolute, crushing reality. It doesn't have to be physical hurt; it can just be deciding no one will like you and denying yourself love, or thinking "Well, there's no use hoping for anything good to happen."

This is how people talk about climate change. They fantasize about extreme, horrific scenarios and talk as if the Earth is already dead and destroyed, and they talk about humans hatefully and as if they were a disease, and then congratulate themselves for seeing how bad it REALLY is instead of being in denial. It is easy for people to get attached to this and even get mad when someone suggests there might be hope, simply because self-harm can be very psychologically reinforcing.

It is common to call these responses "climate grief." But as I came into this very simple and quiet yet profound encounter with Nature, she had an answer to this philosophy that was perfectly gentle and placid and yet caustic enough to strip paint:

"HOW CAN YOU WISH FOR THE STRENGTH TO GRIEVE THE EARTH, WHEN YOU WERE NEVER STRONG ENOUGH TO LOVE IT?"

I realized, with a breaking heart, that I had always hated and resented my back yard and my home town, because it was an ugly place that seemed to me "Already destroyed," and my soul ached for woods and wilderness.

It had taken me 20 years to fully admit my love of nature, because I felt like there was no point in acting upon it—everything would get destroyed anyway.

I had not been brave enough to love the woods across the road, the creeks and the hills, because they were so fragile in a world that didn't respect them, they could be destroyed by some housing development at any time. So I just accepted that it was already a lost cause.

But it was time to be brave enough—not to accept despair, but to choose hope.

To grow up, first we had to become strong and get rid of silly beliefs like hope and fairness and love. But now, we have to become even stronger and start believing in those things again.

#the ways of the plants #learning to imagine the future

[daydreamingqueen1]

Puppy eyes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU! Reader (can be seen as platonic too)

Warnings: none. fluff, spencer being a bit of a germaphobe, no y/n, pretty sure is gn reader too

Summary: Spencer Reid vs puppy, need I say more

Word count: 1.3k

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆

It's the best day ever.

Your day had started pretty normal to be honest, you would even say it was kind of shitty since you had missed the subway you usually took for your daily commute to the BAU.

But, as wiser people say: Everything happens for a reason.

Because as you are making your way to work, your ears catch the soft sound of a creature whimpering. Trying to find the source, you give a couple tentative steps with your head turning from left to right like you are a hunting hound.

Ironically, behind the decorative bushes that surround the FBI building entrance, you find the origin of the sound.

It's not a hound but it's close enough. It's a puppy.

A beautiful, chocolate spotted puppy.

"Oh my god, sweetie, come here!" you gush automatically, your hand extending gently to reach for the animal currently crying between the bushes and the wall.

The adorable puppy looks up at you a bit hesitant at first, big brown eyes meeting yours. It gives a sniff to the air, checking the scent of your palm from afar, you almost squeal from how cute it looks.

Then it wags its tail.

You make kissy noises to coax him closer, your voice getting two tones higher, "Come here puppy!"

It works because soon enough it walks out of its hiding spot and nuzzles into your palm eagerly, tail wagging from side to side.

You practically lunge to grab the poor thing, "Look at you! You are so cute!"

The puppy doesn't seem to mind your cuteness aggression though, its fluffy body melting on your arms when you scratch behind its long ears, "You're coming home with me."

Best day ever.

But you can't just ignore your responsibilities and walk back home to stay with it, and it wouldn't be sensible to leave such a young puppy alone in your apartment either.

So you do the next most reasonable thing.

Your smile almost takes up your whole face when you walk out of the elevator with the puppy in your arms.

Penelope spots you first, immediately dropping the files on her hands on a random desk to come rushing to you, "Oh my god! Oh my god! It's that a puppy my eyes are seeing?!"

You giggle, pretty much vibrating with joy at this point, "Yes, isn't it the cutest thing ever?"

"Aww, my heart can't deal with this!" she cries, hands fanning herself dramatically.

"Where did you get it?" Prentiss chirps in, hers and almost every other head in the bullpen looking up from their desk to look at you. Well, at the puppy.

You keep walking into the office with Garcia looming all over you, "It was crying outside. This little thing was all alone in the bushes."

A hoard of agents are suddenly surrounding you, eager to get a closer look.

"You'll have to look if it belongs to someone," Morgan says, which makes you instantly pout.

"It doesn't have a collar, idiot," Emily argues quickly, "Such a profiler you are."

"I wanna keep it," you smile brightly, "I think it's a boy."

You turn the puppy onto it's back.

"Yep, definitely a boy," Morgan chuckles, he attempts to pet its head but the creature recoils in your arms, clearly overwhelmed at the amount of people.

Noticing the puppy is a bit scared, you pull back from the crowd, only then you notice a certain agent who remains seated on his desk.

“Don't you want to see it, Spencer?” you ask eagerly.

He shakes his head, his body leaning away slightly, “I can see it from right here, don't worry.”

“Oh, come on Reid, don't tell me you are afraid of dogs,” Derek never loses a chance to tease him.

Spencer gives him a flat look, “I'm not scared of dogs, I’m just aware of the amount of diseases they can transmit to humans.”

You tsk your tongue. “But he's so cute, and it doesn't look like it has rabies or anything,” you look down at the dog while approaching his desk, talking directly at it with a baby voice, “Tell me, do you have rabies, little puppy?”

It just stares blankly at you. Proof enough. “See?”

Spencer, ever the statistics expert, begins his rant, “Well, actually, rabies is not the most common disease dogs can carry, nor the only one. Illnesses that pass between animals and humans are known as zoonotic diseases and a 2007 study based in Finland shows that noroviruses are one of the leading causes of diarrheal diseases among people of all age groups and that these can survive in dogs and be passed along to– Please don't get that thing any closer.”

You chuckle at the panic look Spencer gives you when you reach his side. Truthfully, you aren't going to make him touch the puppy if he's uncomfortable with it, but a little bit of teasing is at the order of the day, “Oh, really? Come on, holding it for a second won't kill you.”

You pull the puppy up next to your face and give him your best puppy eyes, mimicking talking as the puppy, “Please? Am I not cute enough to pet?”

Spencer gives you a long look, “Yes, very cute.”

Forcing down your blush, you extend the puppy to him, “Then pet it.”

He presses his lips in a line, his hands coming up defensively as he rolls backwards on his office chair, “I think I'll pass.”

You chuckle and are about to back off when the puppy squirms in your arms, leaping out from your hands.

The scene unfolds in front of your eyes almost in slow motion. You watch how the pup flies in the air, its short body extended as a superhero.

Spencer catches it, thank god.

“Oh, no,” he squeaks when he realizes what he's done, holding the puppy as if it were about to explode, panickedly starting to name every possible disease, “Pasteurella, Salmonella, Brucella, Yersinia enterocolitica, Leptospira–”

His alarmed ramble gets interrupted by the enthusiastic puppy licking up his cheek.

You freeze for a moment, expecting him to die from a heart attack.

Spencer giggles.

“It's giving me kisses,” his face scrunches up adorably at the onslaught of affection, “It tickles, buddy.”

You can't help the relieved laugh that escapes your lips, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm going to have to wash my face with antibacterial soap though,” he chuckles as he puts the puppy down on his lap, away from further kisses.

Oh, and you've just fucked up so bad because your heart gets squeezed inside your chest at the endering sight of Spencer and the puppy staring at each other.

“You are right, he's cute,” Spencer turns to smile at you, the animal's tail wagging incessantly.

You fucked up good.

“Aww, look at you two,” Penelope says excitedly, “It even looks like you, Reid!”

Your gaze shifts back and forth from your coworker to the creature on his lap. Penelope has a point, you can kind of see the resemblance. The puppy has long ears with soft, brown curls covering them that look similar to Spencer's long hair. The cute, hazel puppy dog eyes go without saying.

Morgan snorts, “Babygirl, you are right, it kind of looks like the kid.”

You pick up the puppy and smile, “Seems like I got myself my own mini Doctor Reid,”

Spencer is about to say something back when Hotch’s office opens, both him and Rossi entering the bullpen.

“Agent, please tell me that's not a dog you have there.” Hotch gives you a stern look.

“It is not, sir,” you answer, smiling apologetically and holding the puppy closer against your chest.

He sighs, shaking his head. “Everyone to the meeting room, we've got a case.”

The puppy lets out a tiny bark, and you make your way to the meeting room before Hotch can tell you anything else.

Spencer sits next to you on the round table and whispers against your ear as everyone is filling in, “I'll help you take care of little Doc here if you decide to keep him.”

Not even the gruesome details of the case are enough to sour your mood.

Best day ever.

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆

yep, this was inspired by all of the MGG pictures with puppies. I am weak.

leave me a prompt if you want!

reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

hope ya liked it, byebye

My masterlist

#spencerreid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #criminal minds #bau team #derek morgan #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #david rossi #drabble #spencer reid blurb

[tojisun]

goi ng crazu again

cw: dark (stalking) // pls pls blame this on 'animals' (m5)

demon!simon

demon simon

ironic, isn't it? how a child of malevolence like him has such a biblical name? did you know where he got it from? did you?

he got it from your neighbour.

the one who lived across your building. the one with dark eyes and scarred lips. the one who kept to himself, avoiding the public as best as he could. it wasn't like it was any harder, anyway. people saw the blood forever staining his shoes and they scurried away, afraid of knowing what it could ever entail.

it's nothing big. he was just a butcher, that's all.

he worked early hours—he woke up at five in the morning, washed up, checked the security cameras on his house because it was just not a good neighbourhood, before preparing a quick breakfast so he could plop himself in front of the tv.

that was his favourite part of his morning—watching you sleep.

sometimes, you were still awake and he always preferred those mornings. you were so vibrant, so beautiful as you went about whatever it was that had you pulling all-nighters. but when you were tucked in underneath your sheets, dead to the world, he liked that just as much.

because when you were asleep, it gave him purpose. after all, it was not a good neighbourhood so surely you needed someone like him.

grueling hours at the butcher's shop passed and went before he returned, dead in the night, staggering in his exhaustion. but even then, he'd never miss out on making his rounds by your flat building. he'd slink into the shadows, silent as a ghost, before popping back out into the main road that led to his own complex.

you never did quite notice him outside your flat. that was alright, he preferred that anyway.

then, he died. it was an unassuming affair; almost pathetically depressing so. no one even knew of his existence, other than his coworkers and him.

naturally, he took his spot.

why wouldn't he? he was just as transfixed as the human was when watching you. he was just as attached. just as infatuated.

don't you prefer him, anyway?

as simon knocks on your door, he thinks you will. after all, there is nothing he can't do.

the only problem is he doesn't like seeing you from a tv screen. it feels so lifeless, so unreal. like you've slipped from his reach, and all he's left with is your remnants.

won't you accept him in your home?

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cw dark #suns #q

[tojivu]

stopp i need more of gojo w six eyes omg 😭😭😭 that last one was so adorable

# SIX II ‣ GOJO SATORU

✰ — author’s note you ask and i deliver :3 please keep the asks flowin my 2 month break is soon!! i am fortunately very free.. also i think i might make one with husband satoru :7

✰ — cw / tags fiance!satoru , read part 1 first because it makes more sense , gn!reader , swearing , gojo being so pretty you’re literally in a daze LOL , not proofread , sfw as always

✰ — playing endlessly by alina baraz.

✰ — word count 1k

"they need to start a fucking cab service here."

GOJO SATORU, your now fiancé, has been whining for the past half an hour—and as his lover, it is your (unconsented) responsibility to hear all of it. the snowy haired man walking in front of you has his handheld fan out in a futile attempt to cool himself off, and of course it reaps no benefit: it's thirty three degrees, ninety one in fahrenheit. what would a measly fan be able to do?

that's precisely what you say to him, your mood was sour as well; having to listen to your querulous husband-to-be grumble about the weather and the walking distance was taking a toll on you.

"plus. . . who was the one who," you found that talking made you feel hotter, so you tried to refrain from long strings of words. "asked to eat at a restaurant. . ."

you huff. ". . .40 minutes away from the station. . ."

you two were sick of tokyo, and you suppose it's partially your fault as well: you've been pestering him for the past month to visit the countryside to get some fresh air. you thought it would be cooler here, seeing as to how rare cars and buses were to come by—ironically, a car or bus is exactly what you two need at this moment.

at least now, your pool of choices for honeymoon destinations are narrowed—the silver lining that was not so silver amidst the heat, and compared to the amount of walking you had to endure.

"we should've just went to switzerland."

it takes a long while before you two make any turn. the pavement is stretched long and far, and the only buildings you'd come across were tiny houses belonging to the countryfolk.

gojo is walking backwards, ranting to you about what could've been in the swiss alps: on and on about snowball fights with you and napping together on a couch in front of a cozy fire. all of his eyes are looking at you, a pitiful gaze in each pair.

yet, you're still here, in the blistering and merciless heat. there was nothing complaints would change, it’s not like you could teleport.

"well, just book a flight to switzerland yourself, then!" you hiss, looking away from gojo, who seemed so unappreciative of the quality time he’s spending with the alleged love of his life.

your scolding makes him laugh. a smug smile spreads across his face, because he was just kidding: he supposes it's not half bad because you're still here with him.

though, he still thinks it would be better by tenfold if the weather was just a little bit more compassionate.

you don’t realise gojo’s stopped walking and is standing in front of you, as you’re preoccupied with the sulky attitude; you bump into him, almost tripping and falling off the concrete pavement—not before he catches you with quick arms and undeniable strength.

you would’ve fallen face flat onto the road if not for your fiancé instinctively reaching for you, and he’s prepared for an earful when you realise what just happened.

“satoru,” you grit your teeth. he closes his eyes, all six of them, in preparation for the scolding he was going to receive from you. “do you not have anything in that dense skull of yours?“

his arms are firm around your waist and your hat is poking at his chest. you look up at him, realising his eyes are open now—blinking at you ever so slowly, as if asking for pity.

all six of his eyes blink in sync, and you spend a good ten seconds staring at his face. something about the way his eyes glistened in the harsh sunlight and the way his hair frames them perfectly, snowy white hair clashing with the blues of his irises—a trance was what he had you under.

“stop looking at me like that.”

“i thought you liked them.” gojo puts on a pout, and it’s too obvious that he’s fishing for your affection—he might as well just ask you to tell him what he wants to hear.

nevertheless, you spoil satoru; as you have always done and continue to do. you think he’s too used to your cooing and that somebody definitely needs to humble him, but you know that somebody wouldn’t be you.

“i love them, ‘toru.” you say, and his pout disappears as quickly as it came. “i love you.”

the whites of his teeth shine in the sunlight when he hears you say those precious words; it never fails to confuse you, how easy it is to please gojo—except that it isn’t, he was only easy when it came to you.

he takes off your hat and you scowl at the heat that your hat has been shielding you from. gojo presses a kiss onto your forehead, not pulling away even after seconds have passed.

“love you more.”

you scoff. “i’m not getting into that argument with you.”

he finally pulls away and his eyes blink at you again, with that same sulking expression. “so you don’t wanna say it back? do you not love me more, y/n?”, and there goes his comedically unconvincing pout.

you bite the inside of your cheek, attempting to put on the sternest look you can; but you take one more good look at him and it’s utterly useless.

people found it hard to get their ways with you. you were a stubborn person, naturally—standing your ground was something that came easy to you. you wonder why it’s different with satoru, though.

perhaps it was his face, his painstakingly handsome face—but you know it definitely had something to do with the way he looked at you, the way his eyes and gaze made you weak in the knees.

“i love you more.” you give in for the second time, and seeing the smirk on his face form makes you realise you’ve done it again: fallen right into his trap.

the pairs of eyes on his forehead and cheeks shut their eyelids. “no, think i love you more.” satoru declares before planting another kiss, this time on your right cheek. “i know i do.”

such a sly man, you think—you wouldn’t marry anyone else.

221023 — it’s 4am..

#✦ inbox #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo imagines #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo imagine #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lost 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

This one's a bit longer than the intro.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your first shift at the store goes well enough. Aziz, the manager, shows you where everything is and goes over the policies. The till is behind a window, a slot just big enough to get products and money through. It’s close to your apartment so not the best part of town. The next day, you’ll be alone.

You head home with a dented can of ginger ale in your bag. Aziz said you could have it for free since half the paint was scraped off during shipping. You don’t drink much soda but it would be a nice treat.

You find yourself dragging your feet as you come onto your street. You’re still getting your bearings but you recognize the boarded up white brick building across from the converted two-storey house. You stare at the faded brown facade of your abode, fumbling with your keys nervously. You still feel so out of place.

You cross the road and climb the steep iron staircase that leads up the side of the house to the second floor. The heavy metal grate that shields the thick wooden door rattles as you open it and clanks behind you loudly despite your efforts to keep quiet. The place feels desolate as you enter. Aside from last night, you haven’t encountered anyone else.

You creep into the kitchen and go to the fridge. On it, there’s a yellow paper with blue ink on it; numbered bullets that you read slowly. ‘House Rules’, the jagged capitals spell out the title above at least a dozen lines. ‘Clean up after yourself; mark your food; no stealing.’ That paper feels very apathetic, suggesting that no one really talks to each other here. Maybe it’s better that way.

You open the fridge and search your bag for your can of ginger ale. You hesitate to put it inside. You have no way of marking it. You consider the remnants of the logo on the side. You could just have it warm.

“There’s a sharpie in the top drawer,” a voice breaks the rigid silence like cracking ice.

You glance over at the man standing in the doorway, the same that leads to your bedroom. You quickly peel away your eyes and nod. You can’t manage a thank you as your surprise has your adrenaline pulsing.

You close the fridge and put the can on the counter. You open a drawer, not much inside besides electric tape and the promised sharpie. You write your initials on the top of the can as the man enters and stops a few feet from you, popping open a cupboard with a harsh click.

You think it must be the same man as the night before. He’s about the same size as the ominous shadow, at least from your periphery glance. You sidle over and pull the fridge open once more, setting your can in the door before you close it gently.

Tension roils around you as the man takes out a large container. It’s unmarked except for the sharpie emblazoned on the white plastic; ‘S’. Just a single letter.

You back away and fix your bag on your shoulder, shuffling around him in the small kitchen. He doesn’t say anything but you can hear his long exhale. It sticks with you how easily he’s snuck up on you twice. You shrug it off as paranoia from the shelter.

You’ll be okay. You have a lock on the door here. You have your own space. A tiny haven in an immense world.

🚪

Your first shift alone isn’t as intimidating as you thought. Most people come in and grab what they need then go. You ring them through with as much friendliness as you can muster. Most don’t respond, some chatter a bit, rambling about a thousand different things, and others even glare at you as they point to the small earbud in their ears. The flow of customers is ebbs and flows, busier around lunchtime and dull after two.

You’re almost done with your hours there. You take the time to bring out the bag of chips Aziz marked for stocking. You sit on the step stool as you set to find the palace for each brand. You put the Cheetos on the shelf as the door chimes and signals the entry of a customer.

You stand and peek over the shelf. You see only a man’s shoulders and the back of his head as he turns his back to you, perusing the wall of magazines. His hair pokes out in shaggy shanks from a ball cap. You grab the folding foot stool and the box and quickly scurry back behind the counter.

You put them down clumsily, a loud clap as the stool falls against the back of the counter. You pull shut the divider behind you and go to the till. You brace the counter as you peer over at the man again but try not to stalk him.

He strides slowly through the store, just along the back wall as he peruses the bottles and cans of cold drinks. He opens a door and takes something out. You look down and review the checklist for your shift. The last thing you need to do is balance the till before the evening shift gets here.

You listen to the man’s steps, flicking your eyes up now and again to keep track of him. You can also see him on the security screen through the black and white lens. You don’t even get a good look at him then as he keeps his chin straight, the beak of his cap effectively hiding his features.

He approaches the counter and you pop your head up. You’re stunned to recognise him. The same man from your flat. Your neighbour. Nameless and mysterious.

“Hey,” he says as he puts his fare on the other side of the plastic barrier.

“Hello,” you eke out. You’re getting used to your own voice again. In this job, you don’t have a choice. “This everything?”

“Mhmm,” the hum is rocky in his throat. 

You grab the two bottles, part of a two for three deal, and scan the premade protein milkshakes one at a time, then the magazine, Time, and a bag of pretzels. Nothing too unusual. His fingertips scratch the coarse hair along his jaw as he clears his throat.

You read out his total and he reaches into his jacket. He pulls out several bills and counts them out before handing them over. You take them and tally his change from the drawer.

“Shouldn’t be working alone,” he comments as he holds his hand out for the change.

You drop the coins into his cupped palm and recoil at his remark.

“Not to scare you,” he tucks the change away.

You shake your head. No, you thought it before but a job’s a job. You scrunch your lips and look around evasively.

“Do you want a bag?” You offer, not knowing how else to respond.

“Please,” he accepts, “and thank you.”

You nod and pull out a bag. You take his items and shove them inside as he watches quietly. You push them through the slot and he takes the handles, pausing as you feel him looking at you.

“When you walk home, avoid Mason Street. Go one up to Doxtator. Safer,” he advises.

You dip your chin, embarrassed. You know you don’t look like much but you can take care of yourself. You have so far.

He leans back on his heel before twisting on his soles. It squeaks with his slow hesitation and he marches to the door. You look up as the chime goes off and he disappears into the street. Only forty minutes to go.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the lost #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #nomad!steve