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ctrlsatoru · 6 months

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HANABI SEASON - CHAPTER ONE

genre: enemies to lovers; roommate au; fluff, angst & smut (future chapters) warnings: none in this chapter pairing: geto suguru x gojo satoru x afab reader word count: 6.2k

a/n: LISTEN this is me refusing to accept the current situation in the manga. i need to put my love for these characters somewhere!!! anyway here’s wonderwall:

❛❛For years, the only thread connecting you both was the living legend known as Gojo Satoru. Fate always seemed to place one of you in the other's absence, but in the aftermath of the night parade of a thousand demons, destiny takes an unexpected turn and your paths are brought together.

Or the one where former terrorist and cult leader Geto Suguru is sentenced to become your roommate, and consequences ensue❜❜

They can’t stop themselves from looking at him.

Curiosity. Lust. Appraisal. Pity.

It's human nature, people wanting to keep pretty, deadly things in their hands. It's written all over the clandestine glances that take him in greedily, dripping with morbid fascination. The most insistent eyes skitter away like spiders caught in the light the moment they find themselves under your scrutiny, ashamed of being caught or irked by what they assume is a display of passionate jealousy.

How mistaken they are.

Though you suppose you two do sell the couple fantasy at first glance, sitting side by side, matching in black; black dress, black suit, black eyes, black hair. His sharp, siren eyes contrasting against your round ones, dusted in the faintest glitter.

An unlikely pair in an unlikely situation, that’s the truth of it. Two people doomed to partake in an unorthodox dynamic. You’ve never even had one conversation. At all. Not since you met, nor since he came to live with you in your apartment.

"And now, it is time to present the award for Innovation in Design. This year's awardee is led by a remarkable group of visionaries, whose work has not only led the transformation of several industries but has also improved the lives of countless individuals.”

For weeks, he’s been a muted shadow roaming your apartment, and you the sole recipient of his unwavering disinterest. The silent treatment irks you more than what you’d anticipated, for reasons you refuse to unpack. You expected domestic warfare, belittling remarks, and even the subtle threat of being poisoned or smothered in your sleep. You were more than ready for it.

Instead, he’s simply looked right through you. No acknowledgment, no reaction to your presence, to anyone or anything. You both share a roof and simultaneously exist on entirely separate planes. The days blur together as you leave for work early and come back late, often staring at the door without knowing whether he’s eaten or had any water. Other than the weekly home visits from Dr. Nakamura, his psychiatrist, his whereabouts are a mystery to you.

Living with him is like having an emo, non-verbal teenager stuck inside a grown man's body as a roommate. So, you decided to react accordingly; by disrupting his streak of isolation and forcing him to come with you to a social function.

It was a desperate, risky measure on your part, and doubts began to creep in when you realized that the "social" aspect involved other people, members of the industry, top dogs from rival companies but most importantly, colleagues you interact with every day, who will undoubtedly have questions about this mysterious man they've never seen before.

But any hesitation dissolved the moment you two arrived at the venue. Looking at him over your shoulder as he made his way through the crowd, you just knew something in him shifted.

It wasn't as if a switch was flipped; rather, it was like a tiny chip had formed on his stony exterior, hinting at the possibility of a larger crack—but he’s still not quite there. Not yet, anyway.

“To receive this prestigious award on behalf of Kaneko Industries, please join me in welcoming Sera Kaneko.”

The room erupts into applause, and your entire table -except for your hostage/date seated on your left- rises from their seats. A radiant but measuredly humble smile steals over your features as your coworkers celebrate, bowing in every conceivable direction and patting each other on the back. Congratulations, you deserve it, you've worked hard. There's a mutual understanding that tonight is the result of an uphill battle, months and months of sleepless nights, time with loved ones sacrificed and many failures and stumbles have paid nicely.

You would gladly stay here and wipe the tears threatening to spill from your favorite senior creative director’s glassy eyes, but duty calls you to the podium. Fingers clutching the fabric of your dress's skirt, you stride across the room with the grace of someone who has worn these heels daily for the past seven years.

“Thank you.” Your voice wavers on the mic, giving away your heart hammering against your chest. Your mouth feels like cardboard, you're blinded by the lights, and you're just a little embarassed and thankful that the MC comes back to adjust the mic stand to a reasonable height. By the time he walks away, your head's standing tall and proud over your shoulders. “We are deeply honored. We believe this represents not only our dedication but also the incredible potential the work everyone in this room does has to shape the future.”

As your eyes adjust to the lights, you steal an indulgent glance at the heavy crystal, wand-like sculpture in your hands. One by one, faces emerge from the sparkling specks of dust in the air. They're looking at you expectantly, and though it's nothing similar to the looks your companion has been getting, there's something nearly predatory about their curiosity. The weight of your last name is heavy, but your shoulders push back in tenfold.

"I want to congratulate everyone at Kaneko Industries who inspires us every day with their creativity and dedication. This is a reflection of their collective efforts, and I’m privileged to be part of such an amazing team, and of course,this wouldn’t be possible without our CEO, Yamamoto Sota, whose leadership and support have allowed us to dream big and achieve even bigger."

Your gaze shifts from your direct superior’s prideful, borderline fatherly smile to the somber presence sitting on the other side of your vacant chair. The sight of him reminds you of a black hole, threatening to consume every last drop of life in the beautifully adorned room at any given second.

Then, a wicked spark goes through you. A brief second is all it takes.

"And I'd like to express my heartfelt gratitude to a very special person," your words ring out, "someone who has been an unexpected source of encouragement and inspiration."

As you stand alone in the spotlight, his eyes meet yours across the room for the first time.

A subtle shift of his jaw turns it into a blade, far sharper than human anatomy should allow, accompanied by the faintest flare of his nostrils. He blinks slowly, casting an ominous veil over his dark eyes. In his full glory, he’d have everyone here with their foreheads to the ground and keep a different fate just for you– you’d be saved for last.

But even as you paint yourself as the target of the world's most dangerous curse user, his wellspring of hostile intentions fails to intimidate you; instead, it sends an exhilarating thrill within you. Like a kid playing with firecrackers for the first time, awakening pyromaniac tendencies.

You have it, undeniable evidence that he’s not yet turned into a walking carcass. Beneath the surface of his pale, spectral skin and those haunting, faded eyes, the ability, the will to feel, to hate, survives. Even if part of him didn’t.

You finally have a thread to hold on to. But first, you're supposed to finish a speech.

"As we celebrate past achievements, we also look to the future. I'm excited to disclose to you that Kaneko Industries is embarking on a collaboration with the Biomedical Engineering Department at the University of Tokyo."

Uncomfortable glances are shared by your colleagues, hidden behind stiff, half-terrified smiles. The words flow out of your mouth with ease, making it too late to go back. Monday you will deal with the consequences.

"While we can't reveal all the details just yet," You add as a precautionary method and an act of useless but honest solidarity for Monday you. "You have our word that this partnership will usher in a new era of design possibilities, blending cutting-edge research with real-world applications. We're excited to continue pushing the boundaries of what's possible. Thank you."

You step down with another round of applause, and the night goes on.

About an hour later you escape the crowd for a moment of quiet and find it in the precious emptiness of the terrace. No one sets foot here; the night is too cold for comfort and merciless, crisp air freezes your lungs. The beautiful view of Tokyo makes up for it. It’s just you and your glass of champagne.

As if you’ve been under his watch, your phone buzzes against the hidden pocket on your hip about a few minutes later. You're surprised to see it's only a call, he's usually a facetimer.

“I knew Ijichi was a snitch.” you gritt. “That’s why he looks twenty years older than he is. Snitches get no collagen.”

“Be nice to him, you know he has a soft spot for you. Don’t break the man’s heart.” the voice on the line murmurs playfully, your perfectly lined eyes squint at the Tokyo Tower covered in stark blue light.

“If this is you trying to give me a scolding, just get to it. Don’t ease me into it like I’m one of your little stu–”

“Uh? It’s nothing like that. I just wanted to say congratulations, I heard you guys got the big prize tonight. I’ll make sure to bring the team their much deserved gift baskets as soon as I get back.” Knowing his flashy tendencies, he’ll pull something unnecessarily extravagant and terrorize half the building. The other half, most of them starry eyed interns, might fall deeper in love with him.

“The whole company?” you taunt, not necessarily doubting him.

“Of course! The kids at the front desk, that stuck-up little assistant of yours, even the degenerate CEO.” he promises, and you’re just opening your mouth to defend your friends when he continues “But seriously, I’m proud of you, bug. I know this means a lot to you."

"Yeah. Thanks." you rasp, right as your eyes start to sting. They might've been happy tears, but you refuse them knowing you'll have to come back inside eventually.

"Hey. We have to celebrate. how do we feel about Etxebarri?”

"In what, six months from now on? We'll have better luck with Jay Fai." you snort, even if the idea of seeing the Achondo scenery is enticing, fear creeps up on you that he's suggesting a spot with such a lengthy waitlist because he's planning an extended stay abroad. "Plus, it's no fun if I have to remind you."

"I can't help but feel underestimated. Big mistake, Kaneko, huge." he clicks his tongue "We'll do both. And if there's any other place you feel like hitting up, just let me know."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're trying to spoil me."

"Maybe you don't." you can't help but freeze at that, the sip you were taking threatening to go down the wrong pipe. You pull the phone away from you and try to recover as quietly as possible, only returning to the call in time to catch- "-used to it."

“What time is it over there?” you shut your eyes tight as soon as the question leaves your mouth, though you're sure your tone perfectly masked the mortification. Timezones? Bro, really?

“Early. Uh– 5 a.m. Doesn’t feel like it, though. The sun is bright as hell.” he complains, surely rubbing his eyes.

“Still working?”

“Just got off.” You pictured a dismissive little shrug, a reminder of how easy things come to him.

“Things are going smoothly here,” You just knew he was about to ask. “I’m handling it. Don’t stress about things that you have no control over and get some sleep.”

“No control? That’s an interesting way to phrase it. Not even a bit? And–” he chuckles airily “Have you known me to be the type to stress about things?”

“Zero, and no.” you turn to rest against the thick concrete rail, overlooking the party, hugging your waist trying to fix up some warmth. “But you have this ominous vibe every time we talk. I feel like you’re just waiting for me to tell you that I left the stove on at home. It’s kind of exhausting.”

“That’s–”

“But” you emphasize before the conversation gets too real “I get it. We’re on foreign ground, aren’t we?”

“Good foreign, or bad foreign?”

A soft laugh bubbles out of your chest at his poorly concealed apprehension. If you’re actively trying to learn your way around Geto Suguru, his counterpart you can read like a book.

“Dude, you seriously need to unclench.”

“I’m unclenched. I’m super loose, you wouldn’t believe it.”

There’s some shuffling around, followed by a sharp exhale, a telltale sound of him dropping his weight on some random hotel mattress.

“That did not land the way you wanted it to.”

“Answer my question, Kaneko.”

“Oh. Not Kaneko,” you gasp, just idly amused. No wonder his students show you more respect. “You know, If you were going to dread delegating something to me for once, maybe– I don’t know? You shouldn’t have made me your ex-boyfriend’s keeper.”

“I don’t–”

You’re cutting him off before the conversation gets too real.

“I’m fucking with you, jeez, god forbid a girl tries to make light of the situation.”

There’s a sigh of protest against you postponing an inevitable conversation, but the fact that he’s letting you off the hook speaks volumes. You keep your eyes on the one and only by the bar, standing up like he’s above sitting on a stool, ready to pulverize whoever dares come to his vicinity.

Good foreign, or bad foreign?

“I think I’m getting him to crack.”

“And why would you be trying to get him to crack?” he questions with utmost patience, like he's talking to a kid.

This time, you deflect without remorse. “He’s got enough admirers tonight to start another little cult. Do you know how long I spent surrounded by people this afternoon?”

“I don’t know. One hour?” he yawns.

“Four, Gojo. I’m talking hairdressers, makeup artists, some foreign stylist, and their assistants. There’s not a single dead skin cell in my body right now, and my tits look– they put some shiny body butter on me, I don’t think I can tell you how good they look” you pause, pinching your nose “All he has is his little bun, dark circles and vitamin D deficiency and I’m telling you, he stole my spotlight. I didn’t stand a chance.”

“I’m sure you did, bug. Don’t get too caught up about it.”

His honeyed words have the opposite effect. Your eyes narrow, shoulders sagging as you shift your weight between your feet.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you’re biased…" you murmur, shaking your head. "Whatever, I'm not worried about it, but I’ve been thinking about this–"

"Have you now?"

"I always found cults silly. I mean, what makes someone alluring enough to convince multitudes to follow them blindly like that? Even if they offer a super convincing lore about the end of the world. And they always say they’re charming and handsome, but the pictures tell another story– have you seen Jim Jones?”

The line falls quiet as reluctant realization lands on you, and you don’t even register how the cold has numbed the muscles of your face until one of your eyebrows tries to lift, tracing the edge of Geto Suguru’s profile from afar.

“But I kind of get it,” you speak your truth, more to yourself, and it comes as an intrigued whisper. The sharp wheeze of Gojo violently coughing comes immediately, breaking you out of your trance. Was he eating?

“Huh?”

Even from a distance, looking at him is a humbling experience. Pretty doesn't do him justice. Granted, the man has seen better days; you don’t get devastatingly close to achieving the dream of a lifetime, and lose a limb along with the world you built for yourself and your family without it taking a toll on you.

In every conceivable sense of the word, Geto is a withered man, but there’s something entirely magnetic about him.

The pitch-black suit you picked clings to him with an almost predestined fit, a stark reminder that under the unkempt hair and lackluster baggy clothes he wears around your apartment hides a strong, well-trained physique made of wide shoulders and a slender, should you say almost slutty waist.

Sunken eyes and weight loss aside, having a face like that never hurts, and whatever effort he put into his hair paid off nicely. A cascade of thick ebony locks spills down his back, half of it tied up in a neat bun exposing his forehead and the sharp angles of his face.

So, yeah. It seems completely plausible to you that people got hooked on his hardcore eugenics pyramid scheme, simply because they wanted to hit. Not that you would ever go down that road even at your lowest, horniest hour, but you see the POV. Now that you're thinking about it, you're not that far off from the people staring at him earlier, with the sole difference that he's... kind of in your hands already.

Your train of thought surprises you.

“I’m just gonna ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No. Maybe? I don’t think so. Let’s just say I’m starting to empathize with your commitment issues.” you hold back a giggle at his pointed silence. Very few people can say they’ve left the Gojo Satoru speechless. And not for a lack of effort. “Man, imagine if I fell for him or something. That’d be hilarious. Huge conflict of interest. What would you do then?”

“Well, that– would put me in a very tight spot, for sure.”

“Mm. I can see how that would be uncomfortable for you, yes,” you admit, rather seriously, finding endless joy in how uncomfortable and concerned he sounded. You damn the distance between you for not letting you see his face. “But nah. No. I don’t go for the crazy ones, that’s your thing. Plus, it’s bros before hoes, always.”

A scoff that’s supposed to be a laugh sounds too much like a sound of relief. “Said in true girl boss lingo.”

Before you can open your mouth and continue making him uncomfortable, your alarms are set off by a figure in red approaching your roommate’s safe perimeter.

“O.k. I gotta go, there’s a— situation here. And by the way, you owe me dinner for the rest of your life. I’m never taking the tab again.”

“What? What’s–”

“And get some sleep. I’ll text you when we get home, say hi to Yuta and Miguel for me.”

“Sera–”

“I’ve got this, ok? Have some faith in me, Satoru. Don’t make me say that again.”

Your thumb hits the red button, not a glance spared at the screen as you make your way inside, sliding through the crowd and avoiding your boss and his lecture on how your stunt was a direct attack on the company’s stability. There’s a crossover at the bar that needs to be stopped immediately.

“Aunt Elisa” your tone goes a pitch higher to soften the way you’re peeling her hand off his forearm, holding it between both of yours instead. Her thin, wrinkly freckled skin reminds you of a newborn reptile.

Your aunt Elisa is the second wife of your uncle, one of the few members of your family who held onto enough shares in the company to get invited to this kind of event.

“Serafina, mia cara,” Her green eyes scan you from head to toe, lips curved in a practiced smile that always failed to reach her eyes. She’s a beautiful woman, but the stiffness of her face never fails to make you recoil. “You shouldn’t leave your date unaccompanied, it’s unbecoming. This event isn’t all about you, you’re an adult now, you should know that.”

The last time you heard from them, they were still going to great lengths to get your cousin a seat on the board, and you moved all the strings you had to make their mission impossible. Whether they caught on to your counter-scheming or not remains a mystery, you weren’t particularly sneaky about it and she’s always been lovely to chat with; as lovely as an old wretched hag with more internalized misogyny than blood running through her icy veins can be.

“No. Of course not.” You put some tragedy in your smile, furrowing your brows like the fact pains you. “It’s pretty late, so you and my uncle are probably leaving by now, right? I know his feet get all swollen when he wears his dress shoes for too long.”

“There we go. That answers my question,” she grins triumphantly, turning to look at Geto like you unknowingly fell into a trap of sorts.

There’s a hesitant chuckle from you, with a quick side eye in Geto’s direction. His face reveals nothing. “I’m sorry?”

“I was just asking the young man what you were to him, but I suppose he felt shy. Perhaps you should’ve introduced him to the family before bringing him to an event of such importance, dear. This kind of step in a relationship is discussed between both parties, you don’t want to scare him off with your dominant nature.”

“Ah, no–” You relax instantly, releasing her hand. Her wrinkly brown red lips purse at you. “No, we’re not a couple. And he’s not shy, quite the opposite. He's just uncomfortable with strangers being so casually forward with him.”

“Oh. That is such a relief.” she exhales, her arm slithers around your shoulders, rubbing up and down your bare arm. A shiver cuts through you at the unwelcome proximity. “After Kenichi called off the wedding, we worried you were rushing into finding a replacement.”

“No need for that, zia.” You blink reassuringly at her, shoulders rolling just to get her to stop touching you for a second. “If there’s one thing I learned from our family is that loveless marriages only bring depressing results. It’s one of the many cycles I’m committed to break.”

Her eyes snap up at yours, and her perfectly plucked auburn eyebrows narrow slightly. You hold her stare until she turns away from you, features instantly softening up for Geto, almost leering at him salaciously. “Are you not going to introduce us, then?”

“Geto Suguru, a pleasure to meet you.”

The velvety sound of his voice and the sound of his own name hits you like a bucket of ice-cold water. You planned to give him an alias, but somehow the opportunity to introduce him to anyone never came. Your coworkers were too taken aback by his vibe and perhaps mildly concerned to see you bring a plus one to ask you, and the death stare and intimidating demeanor kept them from starting a conversation with him directly, even in your absence.

By now, he has to know that this woman is not only a close relative of yours with less-than-kind intentions but a sorcerer as well.

“Elisa Kaneko, Il piacere è mio.”

Either you were having a distorted vision of reality, or he was almost smiling at her.

“So, now that you’re finally speaking, and since my niece keeps avoiding the subject, will you grace me with an answer?”

Your shoulders tighten. There’s no indication that she connects the dots, your aunt and uncle live in Europe, much more concerned with a lavish life than they are with Jujutsu matters. However, your cousin could recognize the name.

“Sono il suo karma, zia.” You pull away from her and come to stand by his side instead, pressing your shoulder against his arm like the muzzle of a gun. You look up at him with a secretive smile and let the woman read into it however she wants to. “And I can’t scare him off. We have a contract and all. Ho cambiato il suo destino. He’s tied to me.”

You feel more than you see him stiffen. Another glass on you and you might've poked your tongue in his direction.

Go on. Give it a shot, Geto-sama.

“É così che lo chiami di questi tempi?” She scoffs after assessing the two of you hoping to catch you slacking. “Well, in that case, I’m sure you must’ve lived a beautiful and honorable life, Geto-san. Our Sera is the gift of the Kaneko family, our doré enfant, did you know? Our Golden Child, her grandfather used to call her.”

You know where this is going.

"Zia-"

"Fate has dealt her a heavy hand, so if she changed yours, hopefully you'll do the same for her. For good fortuna of course, yes?"

You let her rejoice with a tight-lipped smile and excuse the two of you, saying your goodbyes and kissing her cheeks before walking away without checking to see if he follows behind.

The silence on the drive back home feels like a loaded gun. Ijichi drives diligently and quietly, hoping not to be noticed by either of you but sparing concerned glances through the rearview.

You can’t help but wonder what kind of Pandora’s box you opened by bringing him outside, even if only for a night. Back inside the building, as the elevator doors close in front of you, your mind is made up to grab onto the small thread and pull.

“Well played,” you acknowledge, cutting through the soft bossa nova version of some Korean song that topped the charts last year “I drag you with me to a party and you try to recruit my aunt. Kind of a petty move, but it could make things a little bit uncomfortable for me, I’ll give you that.”

You let the chorus pass. No answer comes.

“You know, for a former cult leader, you sure hate the attention. It must’ve been an exhausting ten years for you, maybe you should start thinking about this as your retirement, hm? Lighten up a bit.”

Your reflection’s a blurry blob on the brushed surface of the elevator doors. He keeps his stare forward, wide shoulders dwarfing your figure next to him, standing at a measured distance. Anyone with enough context might call you crazy for poking a murderous man with nothing to lose in an enclosed space, isolated from any sort of protection.

“Here’s the deal. Making you come was unnecessary, but you left me no choice. Plus, it's not like you had plans.”

Ouch. Tough crowd. All you get is a single, slow, uninterested blink that would put the world's meanest cat to shame.

You drop the friendly tone, crossing your arms instead.

“I’m not trying to make this any more difficult than it is. The sooner you come to terms with that, the smoother things will go.”

The doors open in front of you with an imperceptible hum. Your gloved hand touches the metal frame before they close again. The man is stubborn, doesn’t move until you finally step out with a roll of your eyes, and follows you through the dimly lit hallway like a sinister shadow.

You open the door to your apartment with a soft click, halfway through a long exhale and deliciously close to savoring releasing your feet when the world spins–

No warning. You're pushed between the ice-cold surface behind you and the wall that he is. A strong hand covers half of your face tightly before any sounds of protest can come out.

A million thoughts speed through your head. Most of them are about how you've brought this onto yourself. You can feel him breathe steadily against you, while you hold yours and brace yourself for his next move, which is totally not your style. What's even weirder is that you're not breathing at all, but you pick up the scent of something like leather and wood in the rough skin of his hand on your nose and mouth. To be fair, it suits him. Maybe you're hallucinating, leave it to you to show signs of phantosmia in a situation like this.

This is it. He's gonna try to kill me right now. Hours after I told Gojo to trust me. He's never gonna let me live it down.

You don’t notice he’s released you until you see him bring a finger to his lips, stone-cold eyes staring over your head. You briefly wonder if this is what those curses saw, or felt -if they're even capable of such a thing- before he swallowed them.

It’s in that tense moment that you catch the faint sounds coming from the apartment. There's someone inside.

He’s gone before you blink again.

You stay rooted in that spot and start to seriously reconsider your life choices. Then, you silently step out of your heels, wipe away the strange warmth his hand left on your face, and make your way inside.

Silence.

And then a sharp slam followed by a thud.

They’re in your office. You stand at the end of the hallway, ears straining, and let him come to you.

You turn as a shadow lunges from behind, a metallic object poised to strike just a fraction of an inch away from your face, aimed at your left eye. Not a knife, not a gun, but a much more intricate object. You push back against his forearm trying to make sense of it and duck and he swipes it across the space your head once occupied.

A swift kick at your legs sends you sprawling to the ground. Rolling with the momentum, you fall across the different floor heights and land at the center of your living room narrowly avoiding his boot as it lands on the ground.

That pisses you off. Stepping on you? Uncalled for.

Indignation in mind, your hand swipes under the coffee table and closes under the reassuring cold handle of a knife. The chance comes next as he charges at you again. In one fluid motion, you curl your body around his leg and slash the blade across his calves.

No cry of pain comes but he drops on one knee, neck straining as he looks up at your glass ceiling. To your surprise, he's standing back up in no time. Impressive.

He’s wearing a black kimono and hakama pants, young and good enough of a fighter to land a few hits on your side and still move with significant speed and determination after the number you've done on his legs.

He never once reaches for his katana, a detail that tells you that his technique has something to do with it and he knows it’s rendered useless in the confines of your apartment. No one but Gojo Satoru can wield cursed energy in the building. You both spent a good six months working on the prototype for the protection system.

“Zenin or Kamo?” you ask breathlessly, dress skirt tattered and fluttering around you thanks to your own hands ripping it.

He lunges again. He’s strong and you're rusty, but you’re faster. You seize the moment and move to the side, grabbing onto his arm with one hand and plunging the blade into his side. It slides easily between his ribs like he’s made of butter left out of the fridge.

“Kaneko?”

He stumbles on his feet, eyes glazing over, fixed on you.

He can’t be much older than Megumi.

With a heavy, not as graceful as you'd like kick to his middle, you send him hurtling into the crystal shelf unit.

Wasting no time, you sprint to your office. Papers whirl like confetti, and every single object on your desk is scattered on the floor. Geto's going at it with a dark figure, dressed in the exact same clothes as your buttery friend back there.

You step into the room just in time to catch it. His expression of shock gives away the exact moment it hits him, as he tries to land a punch with his missing arm. All three of you realize the slip, and the stranger capitalizes on it. With brutal force, Geto crashes through the floor-to-ceiling window, the glass shattering with a deafening explosion.

Eyes wide and unblinking, he props himself up with his arm, and you recognize that he’s gone, a million miles away from the room.

It's just you and the intruder who stalks over him with full purpose, katana in hand.

Three shots ring out. The man's knees fold in first, his weight balancing cartoonishly until he crumples to the ground, katana following with a resounding clang, its echo reverberating through the wreckage.

Carefully navigating through the shattered glass on your bare feet, you make your way to the balcony, extending a hand at him. The rain pours mercilessly, its drops thick enough to sting on bare skin, the sound a lonely symphony in the quiet hum of Aoyama at night. You take the wordless rejection and come back inside before you're completely drenched.

“As I was saying,” you sniff, kicking away the katana, using the butt of your gun to push away a strand of hair that escaped what used to be a beautifully done updo. “We don’t have to be best friends, but we don’t have to be enemies either. The whole psychological waterboarding thing sounds exhausting. You seem to be doing that yourself just fine.”

It’s only a miracle that in the wreckage that they’ve turned your office into, your liquor cabinet survives. You generously fix up two glasses and skip the ice in his, having a feeling that he's one of those people.

“I must’ve truly been blessed. Karma is rarely known to be so benevolent.”

There it is. After that pitiful display, wet like a dog abandoned in the pouring, ice cold rain, and slipping on his first attempt at regaining his footing, there's an acidic edge to his words as he approaches you, like a serpent hissing through its fangs, its venom dripping from every syllable.

“You took the liberty of introducing yourself to my aunt; I thought I could afford a little joke.”

His hair sticks to his neck, bun unraveled like a tattered flag. Strands cling to the side of his face. He’s limping, and there’s a bright red spot on his amputated shoulder. He stops at a considerable distance. You slide the glass across your desk in his direction, not in a gesture of hospitality, but more like offering a lifeline to a drowning man.

“Your clan doesn’t know,'' he states. Droplets of water hit the floor under him, from his hand, his soaked clothes, and his chin. “You’ve done this without notifying them; you’ve committed treason.”

The first sip washes down your throat, cold and scalding at the same time, as you sit on the edge of your crooked desk. A sharp burst of pain in your leg reminds you that you did not come out of your own fight unscathed.

“My clan.” you repeat, though you mean it as a question. “And who’ll come for me? You didn’t exactly leave any elders for me to answer to.”

His brows furrow slightly, the corners of his eyes closing momentarily as if to read a truth written in a foreign language. You, on the other hand, are only momentarily lost and quickly draw the line from A to B.

“Are you doing a bit right now?”

You can’t help the pitch of your voice going higher, blinking quickly at him, giving him time to deny your unspoken assumption.

“Who did you think those Star Religious Group leaders were? The Kaneko family was the backbone of the Time Vessel Association. Did you– did you not know that?”

His eyes shift between yours, searching. Why would you lie about this? It makes sense. After all, your clan positioned itself as one of the big four partly due to descending from Tengen herself. It makes sense that they had their claws in her little murderous fan cafe from its very beginnings.

“Really? That’s hilarious. You cleaned house for me. I should thank you.” you lift your glass.

“Still.” he mutters, the knot between his eyebrows not giving. You take another sip. “You’re head of a clan–”

Worry starts to settle in you, did he hit his head or something? Surely, the world's wettest, most dangerous curse user so far can't be this dense.

“I’m a non-sorcerer, not to mention a woman. Do you think anyone holds me to that standard? As long as the company keeps filling their pockets, my family will stay in line, and as you can see we’re not doing too bad.”

The majority of the living members had slowly excited Jujutsu Society, those who were active hardly regarded you as a leader. Life makes you the nepo-child of a sinking clan well past its glory days and the world refuses to let you forget how insignificant and purposeless your position is.

All in all, the only remarkable thing left is the company your grandfather founded decades ago, and the Kaneko vault, but that's another thing entirely. You represent nothing other than a silver of hope for the survival of the Kaneko inherited technique. And even in that area you’re damaged goods.

"So, that moving speech you delivered to the higher-ups—did it not speak honestly of your intentions?"

You indulge in another sip.

“What’s your angle then, Golden Child?”

“Ha. You caught that, huh?” you laugh half-heartedly at the nickname, your phone starts buzzing quietly, but you pay it no mind. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not interested in your redemption arch. I just didn’t see the benefit in you letting you die.”

“So you agreed to this?”

This.

A binding vow.

Set by far with better considerations for you, granted. If anything, you're a warden of sorts. The cruel irony in binding him to a non-sorcerer did not escape you. The higher-ups know their poetic shit when they want to.

One of the main conditions is that at any given time you can draw without consequence, and the original sentence will proceed; execution by none other than Gojo Satoru himself.

“You don’t trust me, I get it,” you admit, a faint understanding in the drop of your voice. It is reasonable, you’re strangers, tethered together only by a thread named Gojo Satoru. “Honestly, I wouldn’t trust me either, but you should know that I’m not the type to give up easily.”

You sound confident, like you weren’t seriously considering dropping his ass to the Jujutsu version of the lethal injection if he kept freezing you out and sucking the serotonin out of your apartment. Your phone buzzes again, and he eyes the exact spot where it’s hidden with knowing eyes.

“Is it love?” he inquires, the question hanging in the air.

The ice cube in your mouth shatters into tiny fragments between your clamping teeth, the cold sensation spreading across your tongue.

"Is that why you're so desperate to cater to his desires?" his eyebrows arch empathetically, voice dripping with concern, and you can't help but recall that you've witnessed more emotions cross his face in the last four hours than you have in an entire month.

As you remain silent, he shakes his head gently, a disappointed click of his tongue echoing in the room.

“You should know better, Serafina. He’s Gojo Satoru. Nothing is impossible for him. Everything he’s ever wanted and needed in life, he’s had it. You’ll waste yours away trying to live up to a man like that.”

“Worried about me, or speaking from experience?” he smiles at the floor, casting you a look that’s equal parts pity and amusement. Like you’re an insect landing on a venus flytrap. A tragedy waiting to unfold. “I like this. I like us talking, but I think we should be more serious about this.”

Your chin dips at the body on the floor. The younger intruder, hopefully just unconscious in your living room, will have to answer for both of them. A fate far harsher than what his deceased companion faced.

“Let’s be.” he agrees, unusually animated, extending his open palm towards you. “We should also be honest, wouldn’t you agree?”

Fair enough.

“I didn’t think he deserved to execute his best friend” You concede easily. If he’s looking to play 4D chess, he’ll have better luck with whoever sent your two visitors. “And who knows, maybe you didn’t deserve the easy way out either. You’re gone, leaving the rest to clean up the mess? That's not fair.”

“And what do you believe I deserve?”

The end of the conversation looms over you as the rain starts to give. You need to make a few calls, deal with the man in your living room, and figure out what comes next before getting some much-needed sleep, which might end up being none.

And there’s something unknown to you that bleeds into his question, that tells you the curtains are closing on you for the night.

“I’m not gonna pretend to know the answer to that.” you shake your head dismissively “But I do know you’re beyond giving a shit about what happens to you, so this is my promise to you; betray Gojo's decision, and I’ll make sure your family pays your debt.”

Live, Geto Suguru. Whether you find a reason to wake up in the morning or not, you will live. You don’t get to die. You'll face this shitty, monkey riddled world for as long as you have to. I'll make sure of it.

#geto x reader #suguru fanfiction #getou suguru x reader #geto angst #jjk x reader #geto fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru fanfiction #satoru fanfic #gojo fanfic

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kandisheek · 3 months

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FIC REC WEEK 5 - FLUFF

Pinky Promise by Tahlruil

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 38,264 Tags: Domestic Fluff, Growing Old Together, Slice of Life

Summary: Steve wasn't looking for a relationship not really - dating was fun and he was busy learning how to adult properly. A chance encounter with Tony, who's even worse at grocery shopping than he is, has the potential to change all that. The meeting feels significant, even if he could never imagine where it would end up taking him. Tony, meanwhile, was pretty happy with his string of one night stands and no feelings involved relationships. Despite being pushed of of the nest - he suspects Jarvis of giving his mother ideas - he's really not interested in becoming a real adult. Steve makes him want more for the first time ever, and even if it terrifies him, he's willing to see where it goes.

Reasons why I love it: Oh my god, they're so IN LOVE in this one, I can't. Cuteness overload. If you're looking for disgustingly domestic, tear-your-hair-out-it's-so-sweet goodness, then you've come to the right place. I don't think I've ever read a Stony fic that felt this goddamn real. And it just keeps getting better and better with every paragraph. I would've read a million more words in this universe. Please do yourself a favor and check this one out, it's amazing!

Toasted Buns by copperbadge, scifigrl47

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 47,044 Tags: Public Nudity, Tropical Island, Humor

Summary: After seeing Tony naked and tanned -- all over -- in a decontamination shower, Steve realizes he may be in trouble. Tony, meanwhile, is definitely in trouble over those tabloid pictures of him sunbathing nude. The solution is clearly a tropical island getaway.

Reasons why I love it: Steve and Tony alone on a tropical island after Steve has newly developed a fascination with Tony's lack of tanning lines. What could possibly go wrong? Well, as it turns out, everything goes right instead. There are so many moments in this fic that make me smile, no matter how often I read it, and as always, copperbadge and scifigrl47 knock it out of the park with the humor. This fic is fantastic, so if you haven't read it yet, I hope you go and check it out!

This Simple Feeling by inukagome15

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 17,381 Tags: Friends to Lovers, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Aliens

Summary: When are two good friends not good friends? Sounds like the setup for a brilliant joke, right? Except when the joke mirrors real life. Tony and Steve are just very good friends. So why is it everyone thinks they're dating?

Reasons why I love it: You gotta love how everyone knows Steve and Tony better than they know themselves. They're super cute even when they're 'not' dating, and as soon as they figure their shit out, the fic only gets sweeter. I love this one a lot, so please go and check it out!

#marvel #stony #fanfic rec #fluff #fic rec #fanfic #a year in fanfic recs

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draphrawrites · 7 months

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Dabihawks Domestic Doofuses Pt 2

Twitter Threads Pt 3 || Prev Next

Originally posted June 3rd, 2021

Keigo wouldn’t actually yeet Dabi’s first aid stuff for his cologne collection, but Dabi seems to have this weird idea that Keigo is vain and self-centered.

So, Keigo plays into it a bit.

“And you need your wings preened daily... why?” Dabi asks, running his warm fingers through Keigo’s feathers in firm, smooth strokes. Keigo’s eyes roll back, but he keeps his voice even despite his chin being smushed into a pillow.

“Commission standards,” he gets out.

“And those standards entail..?” Dabi pries, actually sounding curious.

They’re laid out on the bed with Keigo’s left wing draped like a blanket across Dabi’s lap. The villain is sitting cross-legged, his long fingers combing through Keigo’s wings for the third time this week.

It’s only Monday.

Dabi doesn’t seem to mind. It’s almost like it’s as relaxing to him as it is to Keigo.

‘Almost’ being the operative word here. Keigo’s bones feel melted and his muscles have unbound from years of clinging to each other in stress-induced desperation.

In short, Keigo’s never been a puddle before, but he’s pretty sure he’s on his way.

“Pretty for the public,” he eventually replies to Dabi’s query. “That’s the standard. Beat up is acceptable too, but only after a fight. And only if I won the fight.”

Full sentences are getting harder for Keigo the more Dabi warms his hands. Then he notices them getting a bit TOO warm.

“Dabi?” He asks, peeking over his shoulder to look at the villain. Dabi’s expression is stony.

“Only pretty or in pain,” he repeats. “That’s fucked up.”

Keigo grimaces. He hadn’t meant for it to sound that way, even if it was true. Mostly he’d wanted an excuse for Dabi to preen him more often because it felt amazing. If Dabi thought it was for pretty privilege reasons, he could bitch about it.

If he thought it was a manipulation or abuse on the Commission’s end, though... that could spell trouble. For both the Commission and Keigo’s daily preening sessions.

“It’s nothing outside the norm, you know...” he mutters quietly. “Lots of celebrities are required to keep certain standards.”

“Who told you being beat to shit was an acceptable standard?” Dabi growls low in his chest. Keigo can feel the anger practically vibrating through his feathers. Oddly, he feels touched. Dabi getting protective of him is... kinda hot.

New, too. Their arrangement thus far has been moving into scarily domestic territory, wherein affection and teasing are more the norm than aggression and sarcasm. Actual protective instincts though? That’s new. Normal Dabi would tell him ‘you’re the one with a thousand knives strapped to your back. You can handle yourself.’

So, call Keigo a little curious about this new turn of events. He arches an eyebrow at Dabi and contemplates how he wants to answer.

“It’s not like anyone told me it was ‘okay’ or anything,” he says slowly.

“More like I was congratulated for good work by my media relations team after a hard fight. If I was looking less than my best without a fight involved, I’d usually get a politely-worded email reminding me of public perception.”

Dabi absorbs that for a moment, idly stroking Keigo’s feathers. “No looking tired or pissed?” He muses. “I really would’ve made a shitty hero then.”

Keigo’s not sure he was meant to hear that last bit, but he does and it makes him blink.

“I think you would have made a good hero,” he counters, surprised to realize he means it. Dabi looks down at him in disbelief.

“Why the fuck would you think that?” he asks, voice sounding almost strangled. Keigo winces, hoping he hasn’t just poked a nerve.

“You’re passionate about taking down false heroes,” he says delicately. “Unwavering, really. And you fight even when the odds are stacked against you.” Before he can stop himself, he’s sitting up so he can face Dabi - more examples spilling from his lips unchecked.

“You pretend not to care for the League, but they all look to you when their own convictions waver. And they come to you when they need help.” Dabi tries to protest, but Keigo isn’t finished.

“You’re also really good with your quirk, even if it hurts you. Not many people have both power and control while knowing their limits, but I’ve seen you fight. You know exactly how much you can do before you have fall back. I know a lot of heroes who could use a little less ego and a little more sense like that.”

Dabi stares at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging slightly open. Then he forces himself to laugh.

“That ‘control’ was learned the hard way, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he says wryly, gesturing to himself. “Unless they’re giving out awards for not wanting any more fucking burns.”

Keigo tilts his head thoughtfully. “That’s fair. It doesn’t mean that knowing your limits and following them isn’t a rare trait, though.” He shrugs when Dabi looks at him. “Forty-two percent of hero fatalities come from heroes biting off more than they can chew.”

Dabi is quiet for a moment longer before he jerks his chin, indicating Keigo to lay back down. He does, hoping that the surprisingly serious talk hasn’t killed the laid-back mood. But Dabi just resumes stroking through his feathers, smoothing out the vanes as he goes.

The silence stretches for so long, in fact, that Keigo is almost dozing by the time Dabi speaks again.“And how long before you bite off more than you can chew?”

Keigo blinks, heart beating harder inside his chest, not wanting to think about it. Not wanting to acknowledge that he’d already done so when he decided to play house with a villain, knowing it could only end in some kind of betrayal. Either of his career or the guy he bullies into making pancakes for him.

“Well, I’ll just have to trust that you and your common sense will set me straight, I guess,” he says, snuggling deeper into Dabi’s lap. The villain hums in response, his fingers simply playing with Keigo’s feathers now, seemingly lost in thought.

Keigo lets Dabi drift, his own thoughts returning to how much easier this would be if Dabi were a hero. And how much he meant it when he said Dabi had the potential. It niggles at him. The realization that Dabi could have been in the same boat as Keigo. The standard of ‘pretty or pained’ combined by virtue of his appearance.

It bothers him, he realizes. To have those standards applied to Dabi. To think of him getting those stupid emails because he looked tired.

Maybe, Keigo thinks, leaning further into Dabi’s warmth. Maybe Dabi’s right.

Maybe it is fucked up.

Twitter Threads Pt 3 || Prev Next

#dabi #hawks #dabihawks #todoroki touya #takami keigo #my fic #fanfic #threads #mha #bnha #domestic fluff

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gatheredfates · 2 months

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Alaice - Distraught

CONTENT WARNINGS: Alaice's story deals in dark/mature themes surrounding toxic relationships, domestic violence and my personal interpretation of a woman's place in Ishgardian high society. Please do not read/scroll now if you're under eighteen or if these topics are personally triggering. The abuse is primarily emotional/mental, but there is also a mention of martial rape. I choose to be transparent because I believe in tagging/warning were appropriate, but I'm firmly of the opinion people must be responsible for the kinds of media they choose to engage with. Curate your spaces appropriately.

when is a monster not a monster? oh, when you love it.

Tight fingers wove around a bunch of forget-me-nots, flecks of azure in the grey. Ahead, a weary band of onlookers watched the procession while the stony eyes of The Fury bored, an irony both in material and stare. It wasn’t the kind of wedding Alaice had envisioned for herself; a tiny gathering, a closed ceremony, the absence of her father on her arm.

'It would not do to wait for a spring wedding,' he explained on the first ask, and who was she to deny? The duties of her House weighed heavy since her parent's death (little more than babe, to loose them so quickly - what a tragedy!) and the tender promise of protection nursed to love as she confided to the handsome man now called her fiancé. He knew better, of course, master of his house for a ten-year, how to conduct her affairs in a most delicate manner. It would not bode well for her to attempt to navigate the bureaucracies on her own; the paperwork, the proprieties — she was ill prepared for it! No, he would care for it out of his adoration for her. She need only pledge her love for him and he would make it so.

Sensible. Pragmatic. It was no gayly court and gaggles of gossip, but she would be safe. Her mother had prepared her thusly before she died; the second-nature braid was originally by her hand. The spattering of snowberries and frosted evergreen haloed around her head only furthered the picturesque portrait of bridely innocence on her ascension to the altar.

Past the threshold of virtue. Out of the furnace and into the fire.

He looked at her and she swore to herself none of it mattered. Not the awkward assembly of acquaintances, the Halonic choir singing a chorus closer to a requiem, or the rush-job priest that better suited such a lament. The man on her left loosened his hold and relinquished her to her soon-to-be husband, as if he had any ownership over her in the first place.

Draeir smiled. His mouth were a gate of shiny white teeth, an ivory fortress where she loomed in enamel prisons lashed by his cold word. She smiled back so sweetly, barely containing her excitement, ignorant to the grip that was two ilms too tight on her fingers or the way he pulled her to him with contained force.

She stumbled. He caught her in turn. A moment's panic escaped her mouth, regained in an instant, and she apologised for her mistake.

"You won't do it again," he answered her, and she took it for gentility.

You will know better than to do it again.

The choir lolled into silence.

a beast can never unlearn its nature.

A posy of periwinkles decayed by the windowsill, overlooking the drab gardens flanked by an ever-constant pattering of snow. They had been a gift on his return, a placation for the girl resting chin-first by the ledge, and placed on the mantle to gather dust. That was how she felt most days, now — a painting, perhaps a statue at best. Something to revisit when he pleased, brushed down and realigned.

Sometimes, when he were being generous, he would trot her out to the crowds he entertained — watched with those hawk-like eyes how she curtsied and smiled at their jokes.

"Such a pretty thing, Draeir, how lucky you must be!" The women remarked, dripping poison from the corner of their lips to be bestowed upon their husbands who stared too long. She felt the uncomfortable flip in the pit of her stomach, intensified when they turned away to talk business and pleasure and his hand would seize hers from behind, pulling her to his side.

"Darling," he cooed, his voice dropping so low as to make the others believe they were merely conversing. Then came the hissed "Feeding their egotism is not your job."

Which did he want — her absence or her presence? If she kept to herself he'd stumble into their room wine-drunk and longing, clawing for her company and absconding her for her avoidance. If she stayed by him and submitted to his whims, a toe out of line spurred his ire.

"You are my WIFE." The specks of spittle were like stains on her skin, no matter how much she tried to wipe them off, and the desperate cries for his redemption could not strip the varnish from the bed that creaked from the weight of them. It hadn't occurred to her then to wish for them to crack; to fling them, body and bloody, to the floor.

It hadn't occurred to her to fight back.

How was this love when she was hysterical? How was this love when he looked at her with rage?

Draier grabbed her face and demanded her silence. He kissed her. He bit her. He tore her from the inside out, wringing her out like a crone's cloth, and left her in tatters at the bedside.

When she finally rose, barely registering what time had passed, she bundled the sheets dappled by blood and retrieved her clothes from the floor. She barely registered handing them to her maid, only that she asked they all be burned.

Rotting flowers on a mantle, elegantly framed. Holy work, the church claimed.

Tell me then, father, why I feel so unclean?

Is it nature or is it nurture?

In her dreams, her daughter wrapped her fingers around her throat.

"A sapling cannot be saved from the seed," She said, pretty lips spreading to a bloodied smile that poured down her chin to the spear of ice lodged between her breastbone. When Alaice screamed and tried to tear her hands away, Alyna only pressed her weight harder upon the weapon until she could no longer swallow the blood.

Her complexion. Her father's hair. Eyes of clear ice and steel grey looking at her vapidly. He looked like that when he died, too; the hard lines in his face smoothing to a eerie stillness as he slumped forward on the rime, steam rising from his rapidly cooling body.

She should have been horrified. Yet, when she dropped to her knees in front of him, all she could feel was relief.

Nature made him cruel. Nurture made her desperate. What would be the fate for their babe?

She woke the way a person stepped onto thin ice — cold and all at once. It was as if she suddenly remembered how to breathe, gulping down air instead of frozen water as her chest heaved and the blanket tangled around her legs was crisp and patched with snow.

To her left her daughter cried, but it was only on her third inhale that her mother registered it with fright and turned to scoop her up.

Alaice pressed her to her breast, icy cold. Alyna didn't seem to mind. In the stillness of the night, she was still a babe — not an apparition to be feared or an inevitability to supress.

"I can't tell you if evil is born or made," she recalled the witch telling her. They were alone one night, Elandervier having been coaxed by the promise of wine and relatively silent company. But, as she swirled the red in her hooked fingers, she sighed and looked to Alaice in full. Her mouth moved as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she busied herself with her cup.

She wondered what she might have said if she pressed. In truth, maybe it was better she didn't know at all.

Instead, she grounded herself with the feeling of her weight connecting with the wooden floorboards and the way her daughter wriggled in her arms. Alaice soothed her with a coo and a kiss to the crown of her head, straying to the window were dried lavender was plucked from the vase and offered as peacekeeping.

She had no way of knowing the horrors of the world. In this moment, she was safe.

That had to be good enough.

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 : alaice #i'm not tagging el because she only features once but she IS here #anyway hi i feel rusty but i got the main gist of what i wanted here sooo #watch me not write for another six months #( god i hope not FKGHJDFS )#my writing #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea answers things

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downstarr · 2 months

Text

The Consort

The Consort (3189 words) by downstar Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins Additional Tags: Thorin Oakenshield Lives, Domestic Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Established Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield Fluff, Consort Bilbo Baggins, POV Bilbo Baggins, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Misunderstandings, Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, Dwarf/Hobbit Relationship(s), Dwarf Gender Concepts, Dwarf Courting, Domestic Fluff, Non-Graphic Smut, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Cultural Differences Series: Part 2 of The Quiet Moments - Bilbo and Thorin Summary: After a confession of their feelings, Bilbo returns to Erebor with Thorin. The great city is in the process of rebuilding, and Thorin is settling into his role as his king. Word is getting around that their king has asked an outsider - a hobbit! - to be his consort. Can their burgeoning relationship survive the pressures of kingship and cultural misunderstandings? --- This fic carries on in continuty from my one-shot The King and the Hobbit. It's part of a series of one-shots or short pieces that exist within the same continuity and in the same timeline. Check the previous fic in this collection for the story of how the two of them got together. I plan for this to be a short multichapter, likely 4-5 when complete.

Chapter 1

Bilbo Baggins was beginning to learn the difference between questing with a group of dwarves and living among them.

He’d returned to Erebor with Thorin and the company of dwarves he’d first journeyed with what felt like a lifetime ago. The trip from the Shire was deeply uneventful, especially compared to their first trek. Bilbo found himself happy and at-ease, and it was wonderful to spend time with Thorin now that they had admitted what they felt for each other.

The first few days in Erebor were also blissful. Bilbo marvelled at the progress the dwarves had made in the short time since the death of the great dragon and the Battle of the Five Armies. The architecture of The Lonely Mountain was built to withstand the ages, hewn as it was into the stone by master craftsmen. Even Smaug, in all his wicked greed, could not destroy all the dwarves had built.

It would still be a long time before Erebor retook its position as one of the great kingdoms of Middle Earth. But thanks to the wealth of Smaug, the assistance of the Elves of the Woodland Realm and the Men of Laketown (who Thorin gave their due in a share of the treasure) there was life in the heart of that lonely temple of stone once again. The population was small at first, but there were new dwarves arriving every day as word of Erebor’s liberation spread.

And there was new life in the heart of Bilbo as well. The grand chambers of the King Under the Mountain were far more lavish and adorned than anything Hobbits had ever seen, but one of his first tasks was to bring a bit of warmth and comfort to that stony chamber. He gathered up furs to make hard surfaces more inviting. He made sure that Thorin’s personal pantry was stocked with tea and biscuits and all the good things necessary when hosting a hobbit. He even arranged a trade with the Woodland Realm for a set of lanterns that captured sunlight. Their warm glow not only chased away the dark, but allowed green things to thrive beneath the ground.

Thorin accepted all these changes without a word of complaint and with a twinkle of good humour in his eye.

One evening, a few weeks into his stay in Erebor, Bilbo sat hunched over a heavy metal desk, perched high on a pair of cushions, his hairy feet dangling off the edge of the chair. He’d been hard at work for hours, drafting what would one day become the first chapter of their fated quest.

Thorin approached him from behind and set his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’m going to sleep. Join me when you’re ready. Don’t hurry on my account. Your candlelight does not bother me.”

“Mhmm, be there soon,” replied Bilbo, his brow furrowed in concentration as he mouthed the words of the sentence he was trying to get just right. “Ah, Thorin, Thorin…” he looked up suddenly and swiveled around.

Thorin had just finished ducking out of his embroidered tunic. The flickering light of the roaring hearth set into the wall and the dim glow of the sunstones huddled up against Bilbo’s plants tossed flattering shadows across the thick muscle of his back. It also highlighted the pure white scar tissue rimmed in silver where Azog’s blade had sliced him through. Elvish medicine had saved his life, but he would always bear the mark of his nemesis and feel the wound echoed in the movement of his body.

Thorin looked over his shoulder and lifted a brow when Bilbo called his name. “Mhmm?”

Bilbo found himself staring. He still wasn’t used to seeing the dwarven king in a state of undress, especially in so casual and intimate a moment. A physique such as Thorin’s was unknown among hobbits, which went some of the way towards explaining why Bilbo had never found a lover among his own kind. There was much more there, of course, but the physical nature of his attraction had caught him off-guard more than once since he’d found the courage to acknowledge it.

Thorin noticed Bilbo’s wandering gaze and turned around. He made a bit of a cheeky show of leaning up against the wall next to the hearth, as if aware that the firelight did much to flatter his body.

Bilbo swallowed, twitched his nose and tap-tapped his pen against a spare bit of paper he used to blot the ink. “Do you…” he cleared his throat, “...do you think there’s someone who could teach me Khuzdul? I should like to add some dwarvish script to my book. I’ve also heard that Smaug left the archive virtually untouched and there are many wonderful and ancient tomes that are still in good condition. But I can’t read any of them. And that…” he rapped his pen again, “... is a speeeeecial kind of torture.”

Thorin was a stoic man, capable of very subtle expressions. But the delight at hearing Bilbo’s request was immediate and obvious. He smiled, his eyes lighting up as warm as hearthfire. He crossed the great chamber to Bilbo’s side and reached out to cup his cheek. “I will send for a scholar from the Iron Hills to be your tutor. You will have the advantage of learning under a master of languages.”

“That’s really not necessary. I can muddle along with some references and a helper. I don’t want you to go to a lot of trouble,” Bilbo replied. He felt the tips of his ears burn red, and he was suddenly grateful for the mess of his hair and the low shimmer of light.

“A king troubles himself where he pleases, especially when it comes to the happiness of his consort,” rumbled Thorin as he reached for Bilbo’s hand. He ran his thumb over the Mithril and white gem bracelet he’d given Bilbo when he pledged himself to him. The bracelet was a masterwork of the finest living dwarven artisans and featured knotwork that entwined dwarf and hobbit motifs. “I want you to be happy here, Bilbo. I know your heart aches for home when you are away from the Shire. And that call of home, which I understand well, means you will not always be by my side. While you are here, it’s my wish that you should want for nothing. A tutor to teach you my tongue is a small thing to ask. Especially as your desire to learn Khuzdul honours me.”

Bilbo swallowed and lifted his hand to place on top of Thorin’s. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to a bit of special treatment. You’ll forgive me if it feels a bit strange.”

“It is strange for me as well,” said Thorin. “Don’t forget I have spent a long time in exile, with very little power. I could not even call together a proper force to retake Erebor. It was only through your bravery and that of our company that has given me what I have now. I will share it, in defiance of the sickness that nearly claimed my mind. The malady of the mind that destroyed my grandfather will not take me. What I want from you is to accept my generosity, as it is the sword I use to battle the shadows in the darkest corners of my heart.” And then his tone softened into a pleading one, “Can you do that?”

Bilbo knew Thorin to be a man of exceptional strength. But he had seen his ghosts and his flaws as he locked himself within the heart of the mountain and hid away from his allies. He sensed that Thorin would always struggle against the demons of avarice, especially as he sat as King Under the Mountain, with greed and excess on display in every gilded corner. But as he looked into Thorin’s eyes, he became acutely aware of how close to the surface those feelings still were. He was strong enough to keep his worst impulses from overtaking him, but they would never fully be banished.

Bilbo had never confessed the secret of the ring he’d found in a musty, dark cave with a twisted, pitiful creature. But he felt the weight of it, as strongly as Thorin felt the shadow of Smaug that still twisted around him. They each had to guard against an outside force full of malice and darkness that neither would be able to ever truly escape.

“I…I understand,” said Bilbo. “And I will try my best to accept your gifts. Though keep in mind that I’m a simple creature. You give me comfort and the honour of your company, and that’s enough to keep me quite happy, thank you.” His lips twitched into a smile.

“Your tastes may be simple, Bilbo, but you are not. There was a time when I thought that too, but I was so very wrong. Come…” he pulled him gently. “Come to bed. In the morning, I will send instructions to the archive to prepare books for you. We have some for the young to help them read and write their tongue. That should allow you to get started as we await the arrival of your tutor.”

Bilbo took Thorin’s hand and hopped down from the chair. He gazed up at the dwarven king with warmth and fondness. “Thank you,” he said softly. And then he got up on his tip-toes and reached up to pull Thorin down. He kissed him sweetly, and then followed him back to their bed. Continue reading on Ao3

#fanfiction #ao3 #fic rec #bagginshield #thorin x bilbo #the hobbit bilbo #thilbo #thorin fic #the hobbit thorin #the hobbit #ao3 writer #the hobbit fanfiction

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you-heard-what-i-meant · 10 months

Text

Triple Frontier - Breathe Again

Just a little cute brotherly thing with the Miller Boys!

Posted on AO3 Here!

When Reader / un-named original female character (referred to only as "she" or "her" throughout) has an asthma attack, Will does his best to help her until Benny can get her inhaler. The Millers think about their unhappy childhood and how it's made them who they are today. Happy Ending!

Trigger Warnings: Asthma Attack. Character struggles to breathe. Reference to anxiety attacks, child abuse, domestic abuse, death of parents, alcoholism, drug abuse and a near death experience for both of the Miller boys.

I don't own the Miller boys unfortunately, and as usual my work is un-beta'd so my apologies for any mistakes!

Please don't repost, reproduce, sample, or lay claim to any of my work - I pour my soul into these works (and yes, it's cheaper than therapy!), and it's heartbreaking when people do these things!

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Breathe Again

It’s lucky that Will’s hands are twice the size of hers and he’s still built like a soldier - she’s gripping his hand with surprising strength, and a less robust person would be feeling their bones screeching in protest. His other hand is rubbing large, soothing circles on her shaking back as he crouches in front of her, wishing they’d found somewhere more comfortable for her to sit than the stony concrete they were running on. Will’s clear blue eyes are alert and monitoring constantly, but his smile is soft and encouraging. Somewhere in the haze of panic and oxygen deprivation, a thought drifts into her chaotic mind - no wonder the Miller boys could have their pick of the ladies… and the men.

Will is grateful she’s not wearing lipgloss, or any makeup at all, so he can properly assess the pink creeping from her cheeks into the whites of her eyes, and the grey-blue tinge just barely visible around her mouth and through her lips. Her free hand is clutching at her ribs so tightly he can see the bones of her knuckles shining pearlescent through her skin.

At some point he’ll need to make a judgement call - ambulance or not - and no matter how many brothers he’s held as they bled (his real brother unfortunately included), he never shakes the fear that he’ll make the wrong call or make it too late.

“Hey-“ his soft voice filters in through her ringing ears, her eyes snapping up to meet his. “ - Breathe with me, c’mon.” He manages to loosen her grip on his hand just enough to press her palm flat against his chest with his own hand over the top, and starts to take exaggeratedly slow, deep breaths. He focuses on keeping his heart rate as slow and steady as he can - a skill that he’s finely honed in his years spent behind a rifle.

Their eyes are still locked, his face relaxed despite the tension of the situation, his blue eyes crystal clear. There’s always something almost mischievous in his eyes, a kind of twinkle like he’s about to make a joke or flirt with you.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she starts to register the steady, strong thumpa-thumpa-thumpa of his heart under her palm, the flexing and relaxing of the firm muscles of his chest as he breathes. And he’s so warm. It’s captivating, and for a moment she’s not so focused on the way her lungs are convulsing and seizing inside her or the feeling of a strap being pulled painfully, crushingly tight around her ribs, or the immediate fear of oh God I’m suffocating I’m going to die. No doubt this was Will’s intention, as he notices the tiny change in her and murmurs soft affirmations that fan his breath across her face.

The almost intoxicating spell is broken by Benny’s running footsteps as he approaches from Will’s left, and the next second the younger man is dropping to a crouch beside them. His voice has a barely-detectable frantic edge under the steady exterior that’s been trained into him by the military - Will is better at hiding his emotions, controlling his fear, keeping his voice absolutely calm and even.

“The bag was in the locker like you said, took me a minute to find this though-” he’s holding out a small plastic inhaler, shaped like an “L” and with her name and date of birth identified on the printed label on the side. “- this was the only one in there.”

“Great, can you-” Will begins, but Benny is already yanking the cap off the inhaler and holding it out. “- Thanks. Alright…”

Will’s hand leaves her back and takes the little device, giving it a hearty shake for a few seconds, before holding it out towards her. Her hand shakily releases its grip on her ribs and grabs the inhaler, Will’s long fingers curling around her own to steady it as she forms her lips around the mouthpiece. As she depresses the little canister protruding from the top, both Millers watch her intently. The hiss of the inhaler is somewhat lost in the rasping pull of her breath as struggles draw the medicine into her lungs. Will’s fingers tighten slightly on her own and gently pull the inhaler away from her lips.

“Try and hold it in -” she manages maybe 2 seconds before her breath huffs back out in a rush, immediately replaced by another gasp of air and a round of coughing. “- Ok, let’s give it a few seconds to start working before the next one, ok?” She barely manages to acknowledge his words with a tiny nod of her head, so focused on trying to draw oxygen into her spasming lungs.

Benny’s eyebrows are drawn into the slightest frown of worry as he watches her continue to fight for breath. He’s holding the cap of the inhaler carefully in his large hand, making sure to only touch the outside as his free hand occupies itself by taking up the soothing motions on her back that his brother had been administering moments before. A few more ragged breaths pass before Will is guiding the device back to her mouth again. “Ok, one more time. Breathe as deep as you can-” click, hiss, inhale, “- great, hold it as long as you can.”

This time when Will pulls the inhaler away she manages nearly 5 seconds before her breath is leaving her in a whoosh again. He manages to wriggle the device out of her grasp and drops it into Benny’s waiting palm. The younger Miller drops his hand from her back just long enough to deftly click the cap back on before he returns to his gentle ministrations, inhaler gripped tightly in his other hand. Will still has one hand holding hers to his chest, but the other is now cupping her face as his thumb gently glides back and forth along her cheekbone.

“Great - you’re doing great.” The blonde murmurs encouragingly. Benny’s alarmed by how bloodshot the whites of her eyes are, but his anxious glance at his brother receives the tiniest shake of the head - Will’s silent acknowledgment of Benny’s communication and a response of ‘not now’.

Their unbreakable bond and “strange” silent communication is what had made the brothers the US Military’s most in-demand special ops team. They’d always been able to communicate in an odd, non-verbal way. It was almost a form of telepathy they’d developed as Will had essentially raised his baby brother alone, their father killed in combat when Benny was eight and Will was 13. Their mother had collapsed into a pit of grief that quickly led to violent drink-and-drug fuelled rages.

It had finally claimed her life a few months after Will’s 18th birthday. He’d joined the forces, and it had pushed her into a drugs binge so extreme she’d OD’d. Benny was 15 when he’d found her on the kitchen floor.

Will was legally old enough to be his brother’s legal guardian, and he was lucky his CO saw the potential in him - pulling strings to make sure Will could start his military career and still look after Benny.

But Benny had spiralled - causing trouble at school, fighting, doing illegal shit, getting arrested, fucking, drinking, drugs (both taking and dealing)… anything to quiet the demons in his head.

When Benny was 17 Will had found him unconscious and barely breathing on his bedroom floor after a drink-and-drug-fuelled-bender of his own. His instincts and brand-new training had kicked in and he’d flipped his baby brother onto his side, pounding his back and stopping him choking to death on his own vomit just in time. In the quiet, broken aftermath on the bedroom floor Benny had confessed to feeling relieved when they no longer had to sneak around their mother, lest she fly into a rage and Will take a beating to protect him. Will had softly, achingly admitted he was relieved that he no longer had to fear what she would do to Benny while he was at school or work, but that he would always, always take the hits to protect him, forever. He’d had a new danger to protect his baby brother from, but this time he couldn’t take the bruises in Benny’s place. They talked until the sun rose, and that afternoon Benny cleaned himself up and they went to meet Will’s CO.

They’d rapidly risen through the ranks of the forces together, making it to top-tier special ops in just three years. Will made good on his promise to protect Benny too many times to count, but especially 5 years later when he took 2 bullets that were destined to send Benny to meet their parents again. As Benny quietly cried next to his brother’s hospital bed - a sadly familiar situation in their childhood - he realised it was the first time he’d had cause to do so since their mother died.

Now, with his gaze entirely focused on her face, Benny feels the moment Will starts to relax. A second later there’s an audible change in the sound of her breathing as her chest finally starts to unlock, the strap around her ribs loosening and her lungs falling back into a shallow but steady rhythm. Benny trusts his brother - and his judgement - unquestioningly, and allows himself to start to climb down from high alert.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Will’s hands have moved to her shoulders. With every ragged breath she seems to slump more and more, almost as if bearing her own weight is getting too tiring, and what started as a comforting tactile connection is fast becoming a grip to keep her upright.

Benny shuffles to sit beside her on the stony concrete, his side flush against hers. He’s blessed with a body that works impeccably well, but knows from experience how exhausting an anxiety attack can be and expects that an asthma attack would feel similar. After all, they’re called “attacks” for a reason.

He’s used to them from his own perspective, but to watch someone he loves so much fight not to goddamn suffocate… It’s always prickled at the back of his mind that it must be awful for Will when Benny has his anxiety attacks, but now, with the flayed-raw feeling of terror, adrenaline, and helplessness, he suddenly has a whole new appreciation for his big brother.

She leans into him, and without hesitation Benny lifts his arm and loops it around the back of her shoulders, tucking her securely against his body. Will slides his hands down her arms and grips both of her hands in his own, folding himself to sit cross-legged on the ground in front of her. He finds himself suddenly captured by her surprisingly steady gaze, intent clear in her face. After a few seconds she speaks.

“Thank you. For looking after me.” It’s the first thing she’s been able to say since she came to an abrupt halt halfway through their run together, and her rasping voice is achingly sincere. She holds Will’s gaze for a moment, then twists to catch Benny’s eye too.

Will’s heart squeezes in his chest, and he has to swallow hard around the lump in his throat. He waits to catch her gaze again before he speaks. “Always, sweetheart.”

Benny finds himself unable to speak when she looks up at him again, his insides suddenly crowded with so many feelings that he can’t express them. He’s not entirely sure they’re all his, certain that some of it is the empathetic absorption of what she’s feeling, what she’s projecting. Fear. Relief. The echo of pain.

It occurs to him that this is how it feels to have a younger sibling. The responsibility. The terror when something’s wrong and you don’t know if you can fix it.

Their gaze holds for a long moment before he has to close his burning eyes, and he presses his lips to her forehead until he can push down the tight feeling in his throat. As soon as his lips leave her skin her head droops, coming to rest in the joint of his shoulder with his pec muscle holding her in place. He notices her hands squeezing Will’s in some unheard rhythm, feels the slight tremors that run through her body.

They stay that way for some time, until Benny’s ass has started to go numb and he’s wondering if she’s fallen asleep. He glances up and catches the glint in Will’s eyes - no doubt reading his mind again, and probably sympathising with his own numb ass. After a few seconds of unspoken communication, Will gives her hands a deliberately firm squeeze and Benny feels the weight of her head lift from his chest.

The older Miller sibling tilts his head slightly to see her face better. He can see the exhaustion in her features, the way she seems to struggle to focus on him like her brain keeps zoning in and out. He’s seen it before in so many situations, not least with Benny’s anxiety attacks.

He smiles softly, waits for her eyes to focus on his own, and gently inquires “How’re you feeling?”.

“Yeah, fine.” She answers far too quickly. A conditioned response. Will raises an eyebrow and holds her gaze with his trademark raised-eyebrow-smirk. She relents under his stare with a huff.

“Tired. A bit weird, y’know? My chest and my legs. But I’ll be alright after a shower.”

Will’s nodding, as Benny adds “You should probably eat too, and drink some water.”

She nods jerkily and drops her head again. Will catches his brother’s gaze again, and he hesitates a moment, clearly considering his next words carefully.

“... I know we were going out to eat with the guys tonight, but -”

Her head shoots up from Benny’s chest, almost colliding with his chin. “ - No, no, I’ll be fine. I just need to get myself sorted -”

Will rushes to reassure her “ - no no no, I’m saying that I’m more than happy to have an excuse to stay in.”

She doesn’t immediately shoot him down again, but neither does she agree. Benny can practically hear the cogs whirring in her head as she weighs her options - not wanting to be the one who craps off their night out, but ludicrously tempted by the idea of a more casual evening with their friends.

Will exchanges another look with Benny before giving her another get-out-of-jail-free-card.

“Frankie was making noises about getting take out and watching the new Mission Impossible movie on Sky. To be honest it sounds much better than a crowded, noisy bar.”

Benny jumps on the bandwagon. “Oh man, I was praying someone would take him up on that. I’m in.”

Will smirks, keeping with the easy banter. “Why didn’t you then?”

Benny shrugs just enough to slightly jostle her. “I know you old folk don’t get out much anymore, didn’t wanna get in the way of your retirement-club day trip.” Benny fires right back.

“You’re technically retired too, y’know.”

“Yeah but we all know I had to do that so the military wouldn’t notice I was letting you take all the glory for my genius.”

Will outright laughs, and Benny feels the slight tremor of her giggle through the side of his body as he beams at their success.

His grin softening, Will ducks his head to catch her gaze again.

“You ready to head back?”

When she nods and starts to untangle herself from Benny, he jumps in to assure her.

“Hey now, there’s no rush -“

“-Nah my ass has gone numb.” She murmurs, gratefully accepting the two pairs of hands that help her to her feet and steady her when she sways slightly, her eyes going unfocused for a moment.

“One of us can carry you -“

Benny never gets to finish his sentence. “- no no, I can walk.” She smiles sheepishly. “Thanks though.”

They both nod, but neither completely let go of her as they begin a steady trudge back to the Gym they set out from God only knows how long ago.

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Thanks for reading!

There may or may not be an alternative version of this scene in which we learn a lot more about the original female character, but it's currently banging around in my head and my spicy brain takes months to actually work through these things, so please keep checking back!

#triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fan fiction #triple frontier fan fic #william ironhead miller #benny miller #charlie hunnam #garrett hedlund #angsty fic #emotional whump #angst #whump fic #whump

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otpcutie · 7 months

Text

Otpcutie’s All Caps Bingo Masterlist — My completed @allcapsbingo fills, for round one.

A/N: I completed 11 fills, including a bingo!

1. Sulking (M, 2.1k) | Square: B4, too little too late

Summary (Winteriron): Steve and Sam are there for Bucky, giving him relationship advice while Tony is on a business trip.

Contains: A/B/O, brooding, Alpha/Daddy Bucky, Omega/brat Tony, D/s discussed, emotional hurt/comfort, misunderstanding, Beta Sam, Alpha Steve, background Steve/Nat, friendship, advice and banter, humour (more on AO3)

Links: Tumblr | AO3

2. Daddy’s Little Honey Bear: Chapter 1 (M, 12k) | Square: O5, nonsexual kink

Summary (Stony/Stucky): Tony has been working too hard, so his Daddy (Steve) ensures he takes a break and enjoys some little time. Bucky comes home early to spend time with them as well.

In this fic Steve, Bucky and Tony are in a polyamorous V relationship with Steve as the hinge. (Steve/Tony are in a QPR and nonsexual Cg/l dynamic. Steve/Bucky are married.)

Chapter Summary: Tony, with his Daddy’s help, agrees to take a (much needed) break to be smol.

Contains: nonsexual Cg/l (Daddy Steve and little Tony), fluff, affection, aroace Tony, QPR, polyamory, found family, little space (more on AO3)

Links: Tumblr | AO3

3. Daddy’s Little Honey Bear: Chapter 2 (M, 12k) | Square: N3, free space

Summary (Stony/Stucky): Tony has been working too hard, so his Daddy (Steve) ensures he takes a break and enjoys some little time. Bucky comes home early to spend time with them as well.

In this fic Steve, Bucky and Tony are in a polyamorous V relationship with Steve as the hinge. (Steve/Tony are in a QPR and nonsexual Cg/l dynamic. Steve/Bucky are married.)

Chapter Summary: Steve gets his babyboy comfy and settled in.

Contains: nonsexual Cg/l (Daddy Steve and little Tony), fluff, affection, aroace Tony, QPR, polyamory, found family, little space (more on AO3)

Links: Tumblr | AO3

4. Daddy’s Little Honey Bear: Chapter 3 (M, 12k) | Square: N1, domestic

Summary (Stony/Stucky): Tony has been working too hard, so his Daddy (Steve) ensures he takes a break and enjoys some little time. Bucky comes home early to spend time with them as well.

In this fic Steve, Bucky and Tony are in a polyamorous V relationship with Steve as the hinge. (Steve/Tony are in a QPR and nonsexual Cg/l dynamic. Steve/Bucky are married.)

Chapter Summary: Bucky comes home and the little space shenanigans continue.

Contains: nonsexual Cg/l (Daddy Steve and little Tony), fluff, affection, aroace Tony, QPR, polyamory, found family, little space (more on AO3)

Links: Tumblr | AO3

5. Daddy’s Little Honey Bear: Chapter 4 (M, 12k) | Square: B2, hurt/comfort

Summary (Stony/Stucky): Tony has been working too hard, so his Daddy (Steve) ensures he takes a break and enjoys some little time. Bucky comes home early to spend time with them as well.

In this fic Steve, Bucky and Tony are in a polyamorous V relationship with Steve as the hinge. (Steve/Tony are in a QPR and nonsexual Cg/l dynamic. Steve/Bucky are married.)

Chapter Summary: Bucky comes home and the little space shenanigans continue.

Contains: nonsexual Cg/l (Daddy Steve and little Tony), fluff, affection, aroace Tony, QPR, polyamory, found family, little space (more on AO3)

Links: Tumblr | AO3

6. Honey, I’m Home! (E, 2.4) | Square: I4, Daddy kink

Summary (Stucky): Steve plays housewife.

Contains: 1940s, cooking as a love language, housewife kink, fluff, panties, D/s, Daddy Bucky, praise kink, teasing (more on AO3)

Links: Tumblr | AO3

7. Steve’s Night Off, Chapter 1: Sparks Fly (M, 3.4k) | Square: I5, second chance at love

Summary (Stucky): Steve meets Bucky in a bar.

Chapter summary: Steve and Bucky hit it off.

Contains: unhappily married Steve, Steve cheats on Peggy with Bucky, older Steve/younger Bucky, Bucky in a skirt, lingerie, flirting, teasing, Daddy kink, dorks falling in love (more on AO3)

Links: Tumblr | AO3

8. Steve’s Night Off, Chapter 2: Falling (E, 4.1k) | Square: N4, size queen

Summary (Stucky): Steve meets Bucky in a bar.

Chapter summary: Steve takes Bucky to his hotel, where their sexual tension reaches a boiling point.

Contains: unhappily married Steve, Steve cheats on Peggy with Bucky, older Steve/younger Bucky, Bucky in a skirt/lingerie, flirting, teasing, Daddy kink, dorks falling in love, fluff, horny boys, smut (more on AO3)

Links: Tumblr | AO3

9. The Bait (T, 0.7k) | Square: O4, blind date

Summary (Stony): Tony goes undercover as an escort for a case.

Contains: Detective AU, grumpy Steve, jealousy, besties/work partners Steve & Bucky, pining Steve, Bucky is fed up with it, escort Peter, implied Bucky/Peter, pining, angst, love confession (more on AO3)

Links: Tumblr | AO3

10. The Upside (E, 2.8k) | Square: N5, Captain America Steve Rogers

Summary (Winteriron): Tony and Bucky give each other permission to get off while body swapped.

Contains: body swap AU, found family, transguy Tony, flirting, teasing, mutual pining, boys in love, fluff, jerking off, smut (more on AO3)

Links: Tumblr | AO3

11. Starshine (M, 1k) | Square: G4, non-traditional Alpha traits

Summary (Stucky): Bucky takes care of his kitten after they’ve played.

Contains: Omegaverse, D/s, Alpha/Daddy Bucky, Omega/kitten Steve, beefy sub Steve, kitten play, fluff, aftercare, nonbinary Steve, Steve uses it/its pronouns (more on AO3)

Links: Tumblr | AO3

Card below the cut:

#allcapsbingo2023 #Winteriron #winteriron fic #stony #stony fic #Stucky #Stucky fic #all caps bingo #all caps bingo round one #otpcutie #bingo card #otpcutie fics #event Masterlist

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rose-edith · 2 years

Note

Just the the love I have!!!! Can I have a soft drabble please all cutesy ☺️☺️☺️☺️

Yes, you certainly may! Hope you like it!

Fluffy Drabble with Gibbs:

Gifs above & “That’s not fair. You know I can’t resist those eyes.”

The night was cold and dark, and yet for once, Jethro didn’t feel that emptiness of the abyss tugging at his heart. No, much like his hearth, a fire was blooming in his heart. With Lucy at his side Jethro sits back on the sofa, waiting for you.

You’d absolutely insisted on running out to the shops to grab some groceries, even though Jethro had offered. You’d batted away his insistence, saying you wanted to get something for yourself anyway. So you’d gone out into the rainy night.

Knowing her human was waiting for his lover, Lucy jumped up onto the sofa, and nuzzled her head on his arm, silently seeking affection. And Jethro was only too happy to give it, he stroked her head, praising and cooing at her sweetly. Lucy loves Gibbs, that much is apparent from the look of total devotion she gives him, and even the stony man’s heart melts as her paw lands on his pockets.

Her eyes are round, whirlpools of love and loyalty. “That’s not fair. You know I can’t resist those eyes.” Jethro sighs, but he’s not really put out- he’s smiling and stroking her. Then he pulls out a few treats from his pocket. “But just one.” He gives her one…and naturally another ones is given to the doggo.

“Ok, ok.” He chuckles, petting the pooch. “That was more like four, we’re stopping there!”

Jethro had been so busy playing with Lucy and giving her treats that he hadn’t noticed you’d arrived. You couldn’t resist staying silent and watching the scene- who knew Jethro could be so wonderfully domestic? Your heart felt like it was glowing as you watched.

You cleared your throat. “You realise she has you wrapped entirely round her little paw right?” You chuckle.

Upon hearing your voice Lucy pads over, greeting you with a nudge before burying her head in the shopping bags searching for a treat that you had admittedly gotten her. You shook your head with a smile, crossing the room to sit on Jethro’s lap.

“Lucy has got you trained well, never mind the other way around!” You joke, resting your hand over his heart. And Jethro agrees, he kisses your forehead.

Gibbs concedes; he’s definitely wrapped round Lucy’s paw. And he’s under your spell too.

#ncis #ncis x reader #ncis headcanons #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #ncis imagine #leroy jethro gibbs #mark harmon #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs headcanons #jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs headcanons #jethro gibbs imagine #jethro gibbs x reader #ncis reader insert #mark harmon is seriously sexy though #mark harmon x reader

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blairstales · 8 months

Text

Scottish Folklore: Water Bull (tarbh-uisge)

Not to be confused with fairy-cows, the water-bull(tarbh-uisge) is a completely separate water-type creature. While fairy-cattle live in the sea, the water-bull is instead associated with lochs.

“This animal, unlike the Water-horse, was of harmless character, and did no mischief to those who came near its haunts. It staid in little lonely moorland lochs, whence it issued only at night.” “Superstitions of the Highlands & Islands of Scotland” by John Gregorson Campbell (1900)

They are often described as black, with no ears, and may even still be wet with greenery from the loch stuck somewhere upon them.

The water-bulls might call out loudly as night falls, but not with a sound like a domesticated one would make.

“There is a folk-tale told in Lome of how a dairy-maid and a cattle-man, when on the point of leaving for the night the fold where the cows had been collected after milking-time, noticed a small, black, bull-shaped animal, velvety and soft in appearance, approaching the cows. Its bellowing they described as one of the weirdest sounds to which they ever had listened. It was ” like the crowing of a cock.” “The Peat-Fire Flame: Folk-Tales and Traditions of the Highlands and Islands” by Alasdair Alpin MacGregor (1937)

They are kind in nature, but opinions on them is split thanks to their habit of breeding with domestic cattle.

For folklore of people not minding the bulls, the cow and water-bull mixed-breed offspring would have short ears that appeared as if they had been cut off; leading to them being called knife-eared.” Otherwise, the calves were healthy and would be impossible to drown.

Bulls are supposed to have a natural hatred for water horses, so in one story in the Hebrides(see “Popular tales of the West Highlands” by John Francis Campbell, or this recording), a mix-breed bull was very carefully raised. When the bull was fully grown and a woman was being chased by a water horse, the bull was released to save her. He fought with the water horse, but after his horns were found on the shore, it is assumed he lost the battle. The horn was used as a gate bar for many years.

On the folklore of people hating the bulls, the folklore said that the breeding of domestic cattle and water bulls would result in stillborn births.

In one story, a herd of cattle kept having these complications, so the owner of the cattle gathered a group of people with weapons, and they attempted (unsuccessfully) to kill the bull. After a long chase, the bull jumped into a river, and mocked the efforts of the humans by occasionally surfacing where they could see it.

“…they went to the place where they were told he was, and run all together at him: but he was too nimble for their pursuit, and after tiring them over mountains, and rocks, and a great space of stony ground, he took a river, and avoided any further chase by diving down into it, tho ‘ every now and then he would show his head above water, as if to mock their skill.” “The History and Description of the Isle of Man” by George Waldron(1744)

As usual, if you want more quotes and audio recordings, you can find them at the bottom of the post on my website.

#scottish folklore #scottishfolklore #mythology #scottish mythology #fairies #fairy #fae #scottish #fairytypes #watertypes #water bull #tarbh uisge #WaterTypeFairies

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polizwrites · 8 months

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WIP Update - 16 Aug 2023

A slightly-below average writing week. I touched 5 fics (4 WIPs & 1 new work) for a total of 1900 words.

On Ao3, I posted:

Chapter Three of Finding Something Fresh - Beta!Sub!Bucky and omega!Dom!Steve have their first (non-sexual) scene together.

Chapter One of Seduction and Abduction; Collusion and Retribution - a Stony Pirate AU with Captain!Stephen kidnapping Anthony as an exchange/ransom for his first mate, James.

Both - Both is Good - a domestic fluff WinterPepperony ficlet featuring an inquisitive Morgan Stark.

I have 20 semi-active WIPs 😬 with my current deadlines being the Tony Stark This or That, Hot Bucky Summer and Stony AUgust events, which all wrap at the end of August.

See below cut for what I’m working on/planning to work on - arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc. As always, feel free to send me prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding any of these projects or any other WIPs I’ve got out there. Interaction really helps feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

Seek & Destroy Collab

After reading @psychiccatpanda‘s amazing Morguna and the Green Queen, I got the itch to explore the Soldier’s POV and talked Faustie into collab’ing with me! We’re working on a new part of the series, and I’ve contributed about 900 words towards the 2500-ish we have so far. Going to see if I can squeeze any of my BBB squares into this fic.

Hot Bucky Summer [BBE_HBS] (Ends Aug 30)

Another @buckybarnesevents event, this time with weekly smexy prompts. My goal is to complete at least two fics/chapters per month for this challenge and have actually filled/will fill three of the 4 weeks for June and July so far.

Week Eleven - “Give me a color” + Green/Red/Yellow – Posted Chapter Three of Finding Something Fresh last Friday - with Beta!Sub!Bucky and omega!Dom!Steve working on pre-scene negotiations. It crossed over with SVB Comforting Insecurity and came in at 1216 words.

Week Twelve - “Who’s My ___”+ Good Boy - I think this will work well with Chapter 5 of Technicalities, which goes back to Steve POV. This would post 8/23 - and with only 237 words so far, I need to get a move on this!

Week Thirteen - FREE WEEK - another previous prompt use - Week Nine’s “How do you want me?” + Tied Down crossing over with ACB Alexander Pierce and CABB Licking Lips squares for Chapter Four of Finding Something Fresh. This chapter will post 8/25 and is drafted at 1116 words.

Tony Stark This or That [TSTOT_23] (Ends 31 Aug)

Excited to see this event (hosted by @tstot ) come back! When you sign up, you get a card with 10 prompts in pairs - so to complete the card, you create five fanworks. I have four prompts posted and one WIP

* 1a - Love Letters brainstormed with @somesortofitalianroast and Meg during the @buckybarnesbingo Discord party and will be combining this with my BBB Fireplace prompt for a 1980′s No Powers WinterIron fic where they discover that someone’s writing them both the same love letters. Started poking at this and have 129 words towards a minimum 600 due by the end of the month. Targeting to post on the 30th

Stony AUgust (Ends 31 Aug)

This weekly prompt challenge is run as a part of the @stonyauniverse bingo, but you don’t have to be participating in the bingo to play along!

Week 1 - Profession - Chapter One of Falling For You - see TSTOT Disaster above.

Week 2 - Time Period – Posted Chapter One of Seduction and Abduction; Collusion and Retribution which crossed over with my SAUB AU: Pirate and TSB Historical prompts for a Pirate Captain!Steve/kidnapped!Tony fic. It came in at 969 words and I have Vague Ideas of where to go next...

Week 3 - No Powers - working on an established Stony fic that crosses over with my SAUB AU: Cruise Ship, TSB Retirement and CABB Anniversary Date squares. I'm 763 words in to Set A Course for Adventure and they're just now getting to the ship. 😁 Hoping to wrap this up somewhere between 1-1.2k as a one shot with a potential Stuckony sequel at some point.

All Caps Bingo [ACB_R1] (Ends 30 Sep)

I’ve got seventeen completed fics, four WIPs and will be pursuing the One Fill, One Bingo Challenge for Row 5. “Man, shut the hell up!”, Alpha Bucky Barnes, James Rhodes, Humping, Competitive Idiocy

* N2 - Sex Toys - Filling this with the upcoming Chapter Five of Finding Something Fresh - Beta!Sub!Bucky and Omega!Dom!Steve enjoy their first sexual scene together.

* G1 - Isaiah Bradley - Planning to add more to The Fist, Defeated. (possibly present day)

* G2 - Nesting - This works with the upcoming Chapter 5 of Sugar-Coated Pill where Bucky and Tony finally get together. I’m combining it with my TSB “Are you there yet?” and WIB Blowjob squares. It’s sitting at 1229 words and is slated to post on Friday the 18th.

* G3 - Established Relationship - planning to fill this with Chapter 2 of Half of the Flesh and Blood That Makes Me Whole - a Bucky POV remix of at least the first part of Take What Was Wrong (And Make it Right), which is current sitting at 52 words. I’m expecting at least one more chapter, possibly two, depending on how far I want to take the remix.

* O3 - Pararescue Sam Wilson - Wrote a remix of Falling For You from Sam’s POV as a crossover with @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt: [#FFF212 Gotta Go Fast]. Braking Their Fall came in at 607 words and will post to Ao3 before this event is over.

* O4 - AU: Domestic - filled this with Both - Both is Good. This crossed over with my WinterIron Pride Prompt Party Day 20: Both Are Good prompt - with Morgan asking her daddy if he loves Uncle Bucky like he does Mommy. It came in at 443 words and posted this morning.

Sam Wilson Bingo [SWB_R3] (Ends 15 Oct 2023)

I have five fills and one WIP - I need to work on cross fills between this and the All Caps, Bucky Barnes and Captain Bottom bingo!

* B4 - Natasha Romanoff - Maybe add on to my Card Sharks drabble, where SamNat & Steve conspire to create a polycule with Bucky? this idea crosses over nicely with my BBB KINK: Seduction mission square

* N5 - James Rhodes - filled with Braking Their Fall - see ACB Pararescue Sam Wilson above.

* G3 - Joaquin Torres - possible expansion of A Rising Star

WinterIron Bingo - [WIB_R1] (Ends 16 Dec 2023)

I have thirteen fills completed and two WIPs for this brand-new bingo event that I’m helping mod! Along with crossfilling against my other bingos, I’m going to try to combine my B column squares for the Iron Soldier badge (complete a bingo with a single work). – Alpha Tony Stark, “That was not my intention.”, James Rhodes, Alpine loves Tony and Blind date. (Tony POV remix of A Sugar Coated Pill?)

* N1 - Bucharest – I think I can fold this into a future chapter of My Love is Vengeance - where a young!Tony and a recovering!Bucky have been kidnapped by Hydra, who still thinks Bucky is the Soldier.

* G2 - Eye contact during sex - This will come into play in Chapter 6 of A Sugar-Coated Pill, where Bucky figures out what making love really means, with Tony’s help. It’s crossing over with BBB KINK: Gentle Sex and is up to 312 words.

* G4 - AU: College Students – looking to expand Beaten to the Punch with some backstory on Bucky and Tony as science camp counselors to fit with this square - will also cross over with my WFB Volunteering Together square.

* O2 - Blowjob - Chapter 5 of A Sugar-Coated Pill – see ACB Nesting above.

* O5 - Gentle – use this poem as inspiration?

Stucky’Verse Bingo Round 1 - [SVB_R1] (Ends 22 Dec)

Nine fills, three WIPs and a couple of ideas.

* A1 - Harem - crossover with CABB Secret/Forbidden Relationship - Bucky and shrimpy!Steve are both concubines - they love each other more than their lored.

* A4 - Fairy Tale Curse - this seems custom-made for a continuation of Beyond the Beast😁 Nothing written yet, other than some Vague Ideas.

* B3 - Tied to a Bed – Chapter Five of Finding Something Fresh - see ACB Sex Toys above. 😁

* B5 - Comforting Insecurity - Chapter Three of Finding Something Fresh - see HBS Week 11.

* D4 - Edging - Probably Chapter Five of Technicalities.

Bucky Barnes Bingo - [BBB_R5] (Ends 10 Jan 2024)

I’ve got eleven fills, three WIPs, and a couple more Vague ideas.

*B2 - KINK: Seduction Mission - might add a new chapter to Card Sharks - where Sam/Natasha and Steve finish what they started to get Bucky onboard for a poly partnership.

* U1 - Never the fall that kills you - I’ve got a WinterIron hanahaki fic idea for this that I want to play with.

* U3 - Fireplace - see TSTOT Love Letters above

* C2 - Yelena Belova– The plan is to use this prompt in the next chapter of Peresmešnik, (aka Three Avengers and a Baby), which is currently sitting at 1100 words (400-ish of which are mine).

* C5 - Marriage of Convenience/Pretend Couple - next chapter of Lady Natasha’s Consort and Lord Steve’s Companion. Not quite sure where to take this next at the moment. 😕

* K3 - Magic - Aro!Bucky sickfic idea?

* Y1 - Gentle Sex - In-progress Chapter 6 of Sugar-Coated Pill – see WIB Eye Contact During Sex.

* Y3 - Alpine - see WIB Iron Soldier combo.

* Y4 - Forgotten Things - using this for Chapter 4 of You Can’t Stop It With a Gun - it’s sitting at 116 words at the moment.

* May Adopted - Insomnia - finally got this filled with The Dead of Night, which also filled last week’s Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF211 An Old Friend] along with my JBB FREE square. It came in at 317 words and will post to Ao3 before this event ends.

Tony Stark Bingo Round 7 - [TSB_R7] (ends 15 Feb)

Six fills and two WIPs, with a couple of ideas in play.

* S1 - Galaxy - possibly use in final chapter of Never More to Go Astray ?

* S4 - “Are you there yet?” -upcoming Chapter 5 of Sugar-Coated Pill – see ACB Nesting above

* T5 - Shawarma - possible crossover with SAUB Canon Divergence – Battle of New York-related?

* A2 - KINK: Concubine - possible crossover with SAUB Gentle Dom

* A4 - Historical - see Stony AUGust Week 2: Time Period above.

* R1 - Animal Transformation - DemonPanda shared a fun prompt on the WIB server - Tony as a short-haired werewolf who needs to cuddle his pack members for warmth.

* R3 - Retirement - filling this with Set A Course for Adventure - see Stony AUgust Week 3: No Powers above.

* R5 - Doppelganger/Evil Twins - this will probably cross over with my Stony AUniverse AU: Crack square as I have a semi-silly idea for it, inspired by seeing a T shirt of mine in a mirror.

Stony AUniverse Bingo [SAUB_R1] (ends 15 Feb)

Another brand-new bingo I’m helping co-mod! Three fills, three WIPs and several crossover ideas already!

* S2 - AU: Crack - see TSB Doppelganger/Evil Twins

* S3 - AU: Wings - see ACB Established Relationship

* S5 - Accidental Baby Acquisition - see BBB Yelena Belova

* T1 - AU: Fantasy - CoffeeOwl shared a really cool dragon!Steve/indebted!Tony prompt in the ACB Discord server that I may be playing with for this.

* T4 - AU: Canon Divergence - see TSB Shawarma above.

* N1 - AU: Spy - I want to expand on/add backstory to Keeping All My Secrets Safe Tonight from the Stony Drabbles challenge.

* N2 - Mutual Pining - crossover with CABB Royal Knight?

* N3 - Gentle Dom - see TSB KINK: Concubine above

* N4 - AU: Pirate - see Stony AUgust Week 2: Time Period above.

* Y2 -AU: Cruise Ship - filling this with Set A Course for Adventure - see Stony AUgust Week 3: No Powers above.

Captain (America) Bottom Bingo - Round 2 [CABB] (ends 28 Feb 2024)

I signed up for a 3x3 card for this bingo and have two fills, one WIP and a couple of crossover ideas.

* A1 - Licking Lips - Chapter Four of Finding Something Fresh - see HBS Week 13

* A2 - Secret/Forbidden Relationship - see SVB Harem

* B3 - Royal Knight - see SAUB Mutual Pining.

* C1 - Anniversary Date - filling this with Set A Course for Adventure - see Stony AUgust Week 3: No Powers above.

Post July Break Bingo [JBB_23p] (Ends Apr? 2024)

@julybreakbingo is running another event to tide participants over with a 2x3 non-fandom-specific card - I got mine earlier this week and am checking it over for potential crossovers.

B2 - Character’s personality is split into two different beings – I’ve never played with Bucky & the Soldier being two different people, but this seems like the perfect opportunity! Will see what might be a good crossover on BBB or WIB (or even SVB)

C1 - Touch Starved – another good fit for a Bucky-centric fic. (either Steve or Tony)

Warm and Fluffy Bingo - [WFB] (no end date)

I got my card from @warmandfluffybingocards back in February but really hadn’t done much with it - however, I’m picking it back up for some crossover possibilities!

* O5 - Volunteering Together – see WIB AU: College Students

————

On other creative fronts: I have a Robot Monster Stuffed With Character figure in progress for an upcoming con. I will be making an announcement about commissions sometime this month so if you’re looking for one of a kind gifts for birthdays or other celebrations, check out Stuffed With Character over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 150!). These soft stuffed figures are mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design requests for any fandom!

#writing stuff #wip wednesday #wip update #shameless self promo

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flourpedal · 2 years

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Reflections on AFTG

I know people want soft domesticity for two gnarled, broken boys becoming men, but it’s clear that that’s not what ends up happening. Andrew doesn’t smile, or laugh, and Neil doesn’t need him to. Let’s not forget that Andrew’s emotions are so explosive that he has violent outbursts and commits premeditated murder. Or the fact that when Riko’s arm is broken and when he’s shot in front of Neil, Neil’s reaction is joy. A big smile. Like yes, he’s high on the relief of freedom, but he’s still thrilled by a death (of a monster, but a death) that happens right in front of them.

Neil and Andrew don’t believe in redemption, so grappling with their existences in each others’ lives, and the roles they play with and for each other is interesting. They don’t redeem each other; they don’t want to. They DO want to survive with each other. Andrew isn’t ice to Neil’s burn, he’s the hand the slaps the ice away and lets Neil suffer it without distraction. Neil isn’t the warmth that melts Andrew’s heart, he manipulates Andrew, and Andrew lets him, because he’s kind of in Neil’s thrall. And they’re both so fucked about physical touch, and sex, and desire. They’re like a stone and a tree next to each other on a mountain. Not connected, not of the same material, but both weathering things the same, and neither one of them is warm.

They’re not exactly good to each other, or kind. But they don’t ask each other to be things that they’re not. Neil will ask Andrew to do things, and Andrew will do them because he likes Neil and he’s bored, but their love will never be a warm, kind soft thing. It will be a stony, zen kind of acceptance. Except for when they kiss, and Andrew’s soul shows up. But even that hurts Andrew. It hurts him. It’s genuinely hard for me to imagine what they feel for each other, as someone who wants to be healthy and works being healthy. These two aren’t healthy, don’t want to be healthy, will never be healthy. I don’t know if that makes their bond “more soulful” - I don’t think it does. I think Andrew’s lack of ability to feel deeply is a death. It’s tragic. I don’t want it for myself. But it’s better that they have each other.

#andreil #aftg #neil josten #andrew minyard #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king's men #aftg reflections #nora sakavic #aftg extra content

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kandisheek · 3 months

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FIC REC WEEK 1 – STONY FAVORITES

Love Bites by cowboyhorsegirl

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 3,147 Tags: Getting Together, Body Worship, Domestic Bliss

Summary: Five ways Steve has bitten or has wanted to bite Tony.

Reasons why I love it: A collection of time stamps of their developing relationship that feel very real and make my heart melt every time I read this fic. Steve's characterization in this is especially amazing, the way his developing feelings for Tony are conveyed with so few words is really great. Some parts of the fic are hot as hell and others will give you cavities, they're so sweet. Smut, fluff, angst, this one has it all!

Falling Backwards (Till it Turns Me Inside Out) by Aeraneth

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 5,706 Tags: Villain Steve Rogers (kind of), Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence

Summary: It’s Nomad against the Avengers, a Hydra patch on his shoulder, a gun pointed at Iron Man’s head, and a doomsday machine running down the clock behind him. He’s the only one standing in the way of them saving the world. Steve doesn’t know how he got here.

Reasons why I love it: This one is so criminally underrated, it makes me want to cry. Not only does Aeraneth absolutely nail the tone, they also used a really cool format wherein the story is told backwards, kind of Memento-style. It works beautifully, and the plot along with the Stony in it is just absolutely delicious. Definitely a must-read if you like angsty fics with a happy ending!

In the mood for a melody by BladeoftheNebula

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 1,858 Tags: Space AU, Soulmates, Meet-Cute

Summary: Another day, another lonely night in space port. Weary traveller Tony meets his destiny in a quaint little bar on Manhatta.

Reasons why I love it: This fic combines so many things I love (which makes sense, because Neb graciously wrote it for me, hurhurhur) – aliens, musician Steve, incredible world building, so many little jokes and touches that really bring the world together. Add to that soulmates and a nod to future tentacle fun, and you get one very happy Kandi. I love this fic so much, so please go read it and give it some love!

Try To Remember by Last_Chance_Anna

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 8,884 Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Grief, Mother's Day

Summary: Steve starts thinking about his mom as Mother's Day approaches. Tony helps him through it. Two chapters of love and support.

Reasons why I love it: Steve's pain here is so visceral and heart-breaking, and Tony as the supportive boyfriend just warms my soul. I love Sarah Rogers as a character, and seeing a fic that so lovingly commemorates her is amazing. Definitely a must read!

In Our Arms by tinystark616

Pairing: Steve/Tony, Steve/Armor/Tony Rating: E Words: 2,594 Tags: Armor Kink, Anal Sex, Threesome

Summary: Having a threesome with Mark 42 was Tony's idea. Of course, he enjoys watching Steve with the suit more than he thought he would.

Reasons why I love it: Armor porn? Fuck yes. This fic is not only scorchingly hot, but I really love the fact that Tony can see not just his outside point of view but also what the armor sees as it's fucking Steve. It's the perfect mix of smut and sweetness. Give this fic a read if you like incredible armor fondueing!

#marvel #stony #fanfic #fic rec #fanfic rec #fanfiction recommendation #a year in fanfic recs

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matchbookarmy · 11 months

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🔁 & 💯!

Thanks for the ask. I answered the reread question here.

7. a fic that made you think #writer goals

Okay....soooooo... sometime back I talked about rereading a fic that I couldn't in good conscience recommend as a Stony fic. But I am going to go ahead and rec it here, because it really is that good. So, be forewarned, this is not a happy Stony fic, and it does not have a happy ending. But it is really really really good, if you are a Tony fan, and want some top notch character exploration. As long as you don't mind hurting because this one's gonna hurt.

Black Right Hand by Diomedes

Rating: Mature

Summary: Destiny never marks him false. It’s Tony who learns all the wrong lessons. Soulmark AU: People are born with soulmarks: bloodline marks and soulmates. Very rarely do more appear or do they fade. Tony's do. This messes with his perception of love irreparably.

Why I'm Reccing: So, as I was going through my bookmarks looking for something that I hadn't already recced, I got like one sentence into this one and I was like....oh....this is that one. Because this fic lives in my head rent free. This fic absolutely set the standard for me in terms of a darker, self-destructive Tony characterization, and I haven't been the same since. (This fic also set the standard for me on Tony's relationship with Jarvis, and I will accept nothing less. We stan Jarvis on this blog.)

Look, I know a lot of people want to read happy fic, and I get that, so this fic will not be for everyone, but when I say that this fic is stunning, I do not say that lightly. This fic is poetry. It is art, it is music, it paints a beautiful and heart wrenching painting from the very first line, and it honestly takes my breath away.

This is a story of a Tony who is hurt by love pretty much from the moment he is born. This is the story of the many loves of Tony's life, the good, the bad, and the (very) ugly. This is the story of being hurt by love, over and over and over again. That's it, that's the fic. There's no upside here, just pain. Pain that you feel deep in your soul, but it's okay, because it's beautiful.

Tony loves as best he can with his defective heart but it isn’t enough for Destiny to hear him. He never considers that his mother’s mark faded because he’s nothing like her at all. See, Tony is nothing like Maria who loved so much she bent the will of Destiny. Instead Tony is marked with the names of those who love him.

Then he gets to watch, one by one, as they stop.

It hurts. It hurts a lot. But it's worth it.

Trigger warning for depictions of abusive relationships (both child and domestic) but none involving Steve. (Though again, this is not a happy Stony fic.) Also this is MCU canon complaint, up to and including Endgame.

#fic rec #tony character study #soulmate au #not a happy ending #hurt (very little comfort)

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lemonsandstrawberries · 2 years

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Second Step

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

summary: Steve continues to enjoy his latest discovery of Tony being ticklish (and so does Tony), and then Tony comes up with a scheme.

length: 1 374 words

a/n: a second part to this fic, but can be read as a stand alone fic too. cheerful and domestic Stony! feedback, reblogs and likes are welcomed and needed!

—————

Second Step (part one, part two, part three)

"Tony, move your legs."

"Nah."

"Come on, I want to sit here."

"Sit elsewhere."

"Okay, fine."

"Wha - wait! Hahaha!"

Tony squirmed and kicked when fingers ran over his soles in quick, chaotic patterns. He bent his legs and pulled them closer to himself to guard from wandering fingers.

"Hah. And now I have a place to sit," Steve said in a pleased tone, sitting down on the couch and taking the place where Tony's feet had been resting.

"Hmp." And just to make a statement, Tony dumped his feet down, back into Steve's lap. He didn't see Steve's smirk but could definitely feel it and eagerly waited for what would happen.

The quick tickling over his feet wasn't a surprise, but Tony still laughed loudly and quickly turned around from his lying down position on the couch, facing his boyfriend.

"Come on, that's not fair," Tony complained, bringing a pout on his face, but smiling deep down. That was exactly what he had counted on and getting it was so rewarding.

"Hm?" Steve smiled, seemingly oblivious to what just happened. It was just a little teasing of his ticklish boyfriend, something Steve discovered not so long ago and took great pleasure in. Each time it happened, Tony acted indignantly but always came back for more. Steve didn't go too deep into it, just finding it cute, even if for Tony, the gesture and meaning behind and the bonds it formed were much more complex. Patting the space on the couch next to him, Steve encouraged Tony to come closer, which he did, very cautiously as if expecting another attack. It didn't happen, and Tony cuddled into his boyfriend's side, Steve's arm wrapping around him. That was nice too.

"Popcorn?" Steve offered Tony a bowl with freshly popped seeds, generously salted and drizzled with warm butter. A perfect snack for a movie night. Tony took a handful and asked JARVIS to start the movie, the familiar theme of Harry Potter starting.

Halfway through the movie, when it was cozy and warm from being cuddled into Steve's side, Tony reached his hand into the bowl, just to scrape the bottom.

"Huh," Tony took his hand out and eyed his butter-covered fingers, sparkling with salt. "We need more popcorn," he said, popping a finger into his mouth and enjoying the fatty, savory flavor.

"I made the first batch, now you make one," Steve bargained with a grin.

"Pfff. Do you even know me? I should not be allowed into the kitchen. Am I right, JARVIS?"

"That's correct. Sir is not very capable in the kitchen."

"Told you," Tony grinned, happy with JARVIS taking his side on this one.

"But you are capable of reaching to the cabinet and taking out a bag of chips, right? Or..." Steve faltered, eyeing Tony's whole length, which seemed a lot smaller when he curled his feet under himself.

"Hey!" Tony yelped in offense, putting his feet down on the floor, "I can reach to my cabinets, okay?" he said in a challenging tone. Maybe not the top shelf without additional help in a form of a stool, but he was perfectly tall enough to reach the bottom ones, where all chips, pretzels, and other salty snacks were stored. What was kept on the top shelves, he had no idea, probably some old mugs or things he didn't use anyway.

"Okay, okay," Steve laughed, finding the indignant attitude funny. "Then go get us chips," he patted Tony's hip, encouraging him to move.

Oooh, this would be such a good opportunity to be a brat and get some more of that lovely attention... Just say no, cuddle back into Steve and wait for it to happen.

Tony didn't want to push his luck and make Steve suspicious.

"Okaaaay..." Tony drawled the word and stood up, heading into the kitchen. He didn't go far when out of sudden fingers dotted along his sides and up to his armpits, making him jump. "Aaah! Hahhaha, no!" Tony shook himself away and darted, hearing Steve going after him. "Steve, don't!" he yelled, some cheerful panic taking over him. Steve just laughed, on pursuit.

"It's fun having a boyfriend, right?!" he even yelled, just to mock his escaping boyfriend.

Yes, very fun, and Tony was very grateful that Steve couldn't see the dopey smile on his face.

***

The next morning, Tony stretched lazily in the bed, still giddy and happy from yesterday's affection. The smell of pancakes told him that Steve was already in the kitchen, busying over breakfast for them. Maybe he could stay in the bed a bit longer, fake being asleep, and have Steve, hopefully, tickle him out of the bed. That would be pretty great, but Tony felt that he shouldn't be too greedy, to not let Steve too early on that piece of knowledge. But maybe, maybe he could do something else instead...

Quietly, Tony walked into the kitchen, his bare feet not making a lot of sound. What he saw, made his heart do a little flippity-flip motion and get flooded with love, but then his mind got control back and sent a signal downwards, some hot feeling stirring inside him. Steve was standing in front of the counter and back to Tony, a very bare back, clad only in light blue pajama pants. Vigorously, Steve was whisking the pancake batter, the metal hitting the sides of the bowl and he was so focused on his task, he didn't notice Tony behind him. And oh, boy, it was a lucky morning for Tony. He didn't know anyone who could look so effortlessly hot, with all muscles perfectly defined, biceps flexed, and yet so sweet and domestic. Tony felt really lucky.

And he needed a lot of luck with what he intended to do.

Step by step, Tony came closer, hands reaching forward, inching closer to Steve's side. Just a quick pinch to see the reaction. If it would work, wonderful. If not, Tony could always say he just wanted to cuddle. Well, if it would work, he could say he wanted to cuddle anyway, because, yeah, he wanted to cuddle. But he also wanted to test if Steve was ticklish.

Closer, closer...

And for some reason, Tony chickened out, not that good kind of cheerful panic running over him. Maybe he needed more time to get the courage to be the delivering part. But he was so close anyway, so he lowered his hands and put them over Steve's hips -

"GAH!" Steve yelped, almost splattering the batter and jumping forward, smashing his hips into the cabinet. Tony immediately drew his hands away and took a step back, eyes widening at what just happened. When Steve turned around, his eyes were equally wide.

Oh. Oooooh.

Slowly, Tony started to smile, one corner of his mouth going higher than the other.

"Oh, really?" Tony said in a husked-out voice, crossing his arms and looking intently at his boyfriend. Hah, ticklish hips. That was a new one.

Steve put the bowl down, not breaking eye contact with the other man. "You don't want to start this fight with me, Tony," he warned, his eyes equally challenging and focused.

Tony started to calculate his chances. Steve was wearing basically nothing, torso exposed, while Tony was in a tank top and drawstrings pants. Definitely better protected. On the other hand, the lack of clothing on Steve pointed to a serious disadvantage for Tony, which was a lot of hard muscles, strong arms, easy to hold him and do what he pleases.

Just, what good were all those muscles when they were under a bare, ticklish skin?

"Maybe I do want to start this fight," Tony said, and just as he finished, Steve leaped, Tony screeching in panic, not expecting this to go down so quickly. "Changed my mind, changed my mind!" he tried to backtrack, but it was too late, and he was already in a tight hold, fingers wriggling into his sides, ribs, belly, everywhere, as if to prove a point. Seemed that clothes were no protection and he felt every teasing touch as if he wasn't wearing anything. "Noooo! Hahahahaha!"

And Steve just smiled, enjoying the show.

The second step was made.

------

<---- First Step / Second Step / Third Step --->

ps. If you didn’t notice, I freaking love freshly popped popcorn. begone with that already popped sold in bags dry stuff!

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #superhusbands #tony stark is ticklish #steve rogers is ticklish #domestic fluff #fluff #domestic #fanfiction #fanfic #tickle fic

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