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lilartifex · 7 months

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Ink and Fictober 2023 Day #4: "Do you even know what this means?"

Inktober Prompt #4: Dodge

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Fandom: Original Work

Character/s: Bunch o' random superhero + villain OCs made solely for this story.

Additional Tags: Superheroes, Villains, OCs, Attempt at Humor, Comedy, Based on a Tumblr Post (which I now cannot find :') )

Summary: Everyone just has one of those days. You know, those days where everything just gets weirder and weirder and your luck gets worse and worse. In this case, it means a trio of villains-who-aren't-really-villains and a pair of superheroes whose Corporate office decides they want to try out a new strategy. This goes about as well as most Corporate plans when the head honchos have never actually had their feet on the ground.

Quick Note: This is probably the closest thing to crack-writing that I’ve ever written. I have six assignments due over about four weeks. Let me have my goofy story. :3

___

People become villains for all kinds of reasons.

Sometimes it’s for monetary gain. Sometimes it’s to stick it to the man. But sometimes, it’s because of a deep-rooted trauma through years of mistreatment, scorn or abuse at the hands of a cruel world that deserves to burn for eternity for what it has done.

And then sometimes it’s just because it’s fun. And a way to cause chaos when nothing seems to be going right for you, so you’re out to make it everyone else’s problem.

That was mostly what motivated Miss Behave. The city called her a villain. She preferred the term vigilante.

See, most people, if they had superpowers at all, just had these basic little quirks that made everyday life a tiny bit easier. Maybe they could carry twenty shopping bags at a time. Maybe they could run at fifty kilometres per hour and were efficient at daily coffee runs. Maybe they had just enough telepathic strength to stop their hot tea from spilling onto the person beside them and avoid the awkward apologies and social interaction that followed.

Miss Behave didn’t have that. Instead, she was cursed with continuous bad luck, which could only be curbed by redirecting it onto someone else. In school or at work that wasn’t too bad. She could make her lazy coworker deal with all the worst customers, or make her least-favourite teachers’ technology throw a fit all day.

But when she got to university, she found it hard to redirect her powers onto anyone. Her fellow classmates were suffering the same way she was, her lecturers were actually really decent people, and she didn’t have the heart to torture her already-stressed-out coworkers who were, more often than not, in the same boat as her.

So, she decided to redirect it onto people who made the world a crummier place by donning a costume and skipping along buildings on her nights off. It wasn’t her fault that she just so happened to accidentally do it to a few local superheroes who had now convinced the media that she was a menace. They just got in the way and then had their super-suits turn bright pink in the wash. They should’ve been more careful.

Now though, Miss Behave was certain that she mustn’t have been using her powers enough because tonight she and her little team were facing two new superheroes whom they’d never seen before. And on a Monday night, too.

“GEEZ! Freaky, watch where you throw that thing!” screeched her teammate, Brain Freeze.

Their other teammate, The Freak (AKA, “Freaky”) launched another brick at his assailant. “Oi! Do you have any idea how hard it is to control Gorilla arms?” he shouted back. “These things weigh a tonne!”

Miss Behave rolled her eyes.

Freaky could shapeshift, which, in itself was a pretty unusual ability. But when it was coupled with the fact that he could only shapeshift parts of his body and had pretty poor balance even without it, there’s little wonder he was kicked out of the Hero Program. Meanwhile, Brain Freeze could, well, freeze stuff. A pretty minor power, until he sneezed. And considering his almost constant allergies, life wasn’t exactly easy for him either.

The two heroes they were facing were a mentor-sidekick duo dressed in matching reds, oranges and yellows. Brain Freeze and Freaky were doing battle with the mentor, a tall guy called ‘Sunflare’. Miss Behave was facing off on her own against the sidekick, a brunette called Redflame. The names were kind of a giveaway to their powers, but she hadn’t actually seen either of them use them yet. The fight so far had been completely physical. And, other than the heroes’ initial introductions, strangely silent.

Miss Behave glanced up and noticed a small awning above them. It was weighed down with water that had accumulated during the afternoon showers, creating a dip right above where Redflame was standing. Redflame. Water.

Miss Behave shrugged. Easy enough.

She knocked the hero on her backside and concentrated, squishing her face into what Freaky called her ‘About To Mess Crap Up’ face. There was a nasty tearing sound and the awning above Redflame tore open, as if it had been waiting for a while and chosen this moment to inconveniently give way. Which it pretty much had.

Miss Behave grinned as Redflame glanced up sharply, realising the danger she was in. Then she raised a hand and the water just - stopped. It floated above her in mid-air like some sort of freakish bubble.

Redflame froze, realising what she’d done. “Oh, heck.”

Miss Behave recognised that voice. And those powers. “Wait a minute,” she cried in disbelief, “That you under there, Wavelet?”

Redflame hesitated. “Uh… no?”

Miss Behave was only vaguely aware of her teammates’ shouts as they were hurtled out of the way by a wave of water behind her. She was too busy staring at her nemesis in absolute bewilderment.

“It is!” she gawked. “What the Hell? So he must be -”

“Riptide,” came a deep, sour voice behind her. She whirled around, fist flying, but the older hero caught her wrist easily. Now that she was much closer, Miss Behave wondered why on Earth none of them had recognised the pair before. They were two of the most prominent heroes in the city and the only ones she and her teammates fought regularly. True, they were both dressed in completely opposite aesthetics and had different names, but still.

God, she was an awful nemesis. Even the fact that he had disarmed both her teammates and now had her in his iron grip couldn’t shake off her surprise.

“Why?” she managed, staring at him with wide eyes. “I just… WHY?”

“New strategy from the High Ups,” said Redflame - Wavelet - before her mentor could chime in. She’d always been talkative, even for a superhero. “They got it in their heads that we should give rebranding a go. Try and make ourselves out to be the opposite of what we actually are.”

“... Okay, I can see that,” said Miss Behave slowly, “But why?” At this point, she figured that the more she kept them talking, the more chance there was of her teammates getting their act together and getting her out of this mess. Also, she did genuinely want to know what was going on.

“To confuse our enemies,” said Wavelet monotonously, as if she was repeating memorised lines from a script.

Miss Behave had no idea what to say to that. But she had to keep talking, so she said the only thing she could think of, “Er… good for you guys, I guess?”

“‘Good for you guys’?” Riptide burst out. “Do you even know what this means?”

Mis Behave was taken aback by the normally calm hero’s outburst. “Um…”

“It means,” exclaimed Riptide with the air of someone who’d been waiting all day to complain, “That people expect me to set things on fire. With my WATER powers.”

Before she could reply, there was a shout from the street down below.

“Sunflare!” cried a shrill voice. “Sunflare, help! Brain Freeze’s blasts trapped my car in ice!” Miss Behave had a vague recollection of one of her friend’s stray blasts landing down there somewhere. “You need to get rid of it! My taxes pay your wages, you know!”

“AND WHAT THE HELL D’YOU EXPECT ME TO DO ABOUT IT?” roared Riptide. “THAW IT OUT SLOWLY WITH LUKEWARM WATER?”

Miss Behave gawked at him.

“He’s… having a day,” explained Wavelet apologetically.

“Right - Wave - uh - Redflame,” growled Riptide, hastily correcting himself, “You deal with this one. I’ll sort out… that.” He spun Miss Behave around and disappeared over the building, sliding down what she assumed must be a PVC pipe.

And that left Miss Behave and Wavelet staring at eachother.

“So…” Miss Behave began awkwardly. “Bad day at the office?”

Wavelet glared at her. “Oh come on! As if you don’t already know!”

Miss Behave blinked. “What?”

“You!” Wavelet flapped her hand at her. “You and your little… Bad Luck powers. You did this to us last time, didn’t you? Cursed us with your… thing.”

“Me? I didn’t do this.” Miss Behave’s day was just getting weirder and weirder. What the heck were they putting in superheroes’ diets these days? Unfiltered drugs or something? “Why would I curse you for something you did on - when was our last battle?”

“Wednesday.”

“Wednesday! Seriously.” Miss Behave shook her head. “You two are annoying, but you’re not THAT annoying.”

Wavelet stared at her. “But I - we thought all this was happening because of you!” she cried helplessly. “And we figured we were sent out to fight you because you’d used your powers or something to manipulate the Patrol Roster so you could gloat at us about your dastardly evil plans for the city and then world domination!”

“... You’ve really overthought this, haven’t you?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Miss Behave sighed and shrugged apologetically. “Yeah, sorry my dude, but that just happens. Corporate be like that sometimes.”

The sidekick stared at her for a moment longer. “You mean we could’ve just pulled a sickie and let someone else fall for the ‘swapping personas’ thing?”

“Yep.”

“Ughhhhhhhhh,” Wavelet moaned dramatically. She glanced down at her mentor, who was still trying to explain to a Karen that no, he could not thaw out an entire car with lukewarm water in under five minutes, and yes, the Superhero Initiative would be sure to cover all costs for the damages.

Miss Behave took the opportunity to glance over her shoulder, where her teammates were starting to get to their feet with a lot of grumbling and groaning. They had a lecture tomorrow, Miss Behave realised, and she hadn’t done the readings.

“You know,” Wavelet said hesitantly, “I think it’s safe to say we’re all just done with today. If I take him-” She jerked a thumb at her mentor below “-home, will you three call it an early night too?”

“Yeah,” said Miss Behave, thinking of her readings, “We will. We’re kinda done too.”

“M’kay, good.” Wavelet hesitated. “But don’t think we’ll let you off next time,” she added quickly. “This is just a one-time thing. Next time we’re back to fighting and there won’t be any breaks. We’re gonna actually arrest you.”

“Sure you will,” yawned Miss Behave absently. “Like you have every other time.”

Wavelet scrunched her nose but didn’t reply. With a last weary wave, she summoned a small stream of water from the air around her and slid down to collect her mentor.

Brain Freeze and Freaky finally managed to pull themselves to their feet and made their way over to Miss Behave. They had clearly heard everything. And they were arguing, as usual.

“I’m just saying,” said Brain Freeze as they approached, “That it wouldn’t be too bad a strategy. Nobody would be able to keep track of their powers and guess their weaknesses until they actually saw them in action. No point in giving away vital information in the very word people use to identify you, is there?”

“It would only last until people started seeing their powers in action,” Freaky reminded him. “Then it wouldn’t matter what they were called. Everyone would know it’s the opposite.”

“They could change their names and appearances regularly,” reasoned Brain Freeze.

“Yeah, but the branding, Brain, think about the branding,” argued Freaky. “How would anyone franchise them if they did that?”

“C’mon guys,” Miss Behave moaned. “I’ve had enough tonight. And I’ve got readings to do. Let’s just go home.”

༝ ˚ ｡⟡ ｡ ˚ ༝

Down below, Wavelet had convinced Riptide that they were done for the night and that the Initiative probably wouldn’t mind if they called in and said their new ‘strategy’ was a bust. She’d reassured him that the villains had managed to escape tonight, although it might be a while before they tried anything again.

He’d managed to calm the Karen down enough for the pair of them to slip off, but as they were about to go Wavelet caught the sound of voices drifting down from the rooftop above. She paused to listen.

“Yeah, I’m done too,” came The Freak’s voice. “Pizza at my place?”

“I’m just saying, it’s not a half-bad plan!” That was Brain Freeze. “Better than how I got MY name, anyway.”

A snort. “Brain, you chugged an entire Macca’s slushie and then got a two-minute brain freeze.” Miss Behave. Wavelet’s ears perked up. “If that isn’t deserving of a name, I don’t know what is.”

“I hate you guys.”

Wavelet listened as their footsteps slowly moved away, before turning to catch up with her mentor.

As she fell into step with him, she had to duck her head to hide her grin.

#fictober23 #writing #creative writing #writing challenge #inktober #inktober23 #inktober2023 #fictober #fictober event #oc #superhero #villain #attempted comedy

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braceletofteeth · 1 year

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Oh yeah I binged it in a couple days, it was a blast!

I absolutely loved officer Oh. Since he was a secondary character I was scared sth would happen to him if he got too involved :( also the drug lady. Not a good person but I loved her vibes and how she and her partner were the only antagonists that actually seemed to care abt each other (the other ones threw their allies under the bus at every opportunity)

Speaking of antagonists, I knew that guy was bad news the moment he said "you have beautiful eyes". Didnt predict the twist with his identity or anything and I even tried to rationalize that maybe it's common to compliment ppl to break the ice, make them comfortable for the session? Still when the reveal happened I was all "i knew you cant be trusted!!!" at him

I was surprised at how much I cared about the story and plot and characters other than the main 2, even though I basically started watching because I came from Strangers from Hell and saw the same actor + homoeroticism and was like fuck yeah sign me up

Glad you liked it so much!! ❤ I believe Bad And Crazy has a good comedy-drama balance, so it's light enough to watch in one go, but also meaningful enough to not be forgotten immediately after, if that makes sense.

About Officer Oh: you are not alone! I remember the fandom being particularly protective over him back when the show was airing. He was declared the cinnamon roll in no time. My favorite scenes with him were the ones with Inseon, the little girl from the first case 🥺 They were adorable.

Boss Yong and Andrei were like real family. They were fiercely loyal to each other, hence why Yong would willingly give up her freedom to avenge his death, despite, theoretically, having the option to flee instead. That's not the kind of emotionally driven decision we'd expect from her at first, frightening and sharp-witted mafia boss that she was, but Andrei was that important to her. They found their way into that lifestyle together, and he was probably the only one she had left, not to mention the only one she could trust and lean on. Their connection is not something that can be replaced easily, so I understand why she would go to such extremes after he was gone.

Oh, God, what was the name of that guy again... Ah. Yes. Yunho. It took me a moment, but I don't think I can ever forget it (I've cursed his name way too many times for that lol). Honestly, the first time I watched that scene, his "you have beautiful eyes" made me feel so uncomfortable and unsafe?? I wanted nothing more than to take Sooyeol and run. But I also remember coming here after the episode ended, to see what everyone else thought of him, and getting taken aback when the general reaction was "Does anyone get a little bit of a gay vibe???", in constrast to all my instincts blasting red signs that said Creep alert! Creep alert!

Trying to solve the mystery and identify Yunho along with the characters was a lot of fun (even when it was confusing, stressful, and we were all going mad in front of our little murder boards), and I had pretty much the same reaction as you did with the reveal XD Gotta trust your instincts!!

I got into the Lee Dongwook fandom through Strangers From Hell, and since then I've watched all kinds of things he starred at; some good, others not so much. BAC was full of surprises, and I have many good memories related to the time I was watching it, so I'd definitely put it up there as one of my favorites. Sometimes I really miss the gang 😔 (so much that, at some point since I started answering your ask, I also started my 2nd rewatch, so thank you for pulling me back in 😅)

Hope to see you next time Dongwook gets a role in a drama with homoerotic tones, anon! o/ Or because of any other stuff you'd like to talk about :)

Bye~💛

#answered

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empressofedge · 5 years

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So awhile back I hung this on my wall at work (because my job makes me crazy sometimes)

And my one coworker was having a bad day one day, so I put the same saying on a sticky note and stuck it to her wall.

And then my other coworkers thought it was funny and now it’s gotten out of hand. Though I think Yang would appreciate some of the puns...

...there’s even been photoshop involved.

#yang xiao long #bumbleby #rwby #i just...#the cursed fandom stuff has made it to my office #with the photoshopped tang container #hmmm guess this isnt really bumbleby but oh well

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fanfic-scribbles · 3 years

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Crash Pad

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: You’re just minding your own business when the Winter Soldier crashes into your life. Literally.

Quick facts: Romance – established past Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes leading into Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff, slight mention of blood

Words: 7801

A/N: I started writing this a few months ago and almost finished when my life got fairly shook up. Still, I’m quite proud of being able to eke out an ending. For anybody who only cares about this story, feel free to skip this note, but for anybody following my other stuff: writing is going to be slow for the time being. My mom died and things are pretty topsy-turvy right now. Writing is still a comfort, but head to hands isn’t working the same right now. Thanks for your patience; I hope this is a pleasant read for you in the mean time <3

You’re getting ready for bed and have just turned off the living room light when you hear a clatter on the fire escape. You haven’t gotten over to shut the window yet and you wince at the thought of maybe coming face to face with a giant rat, or a raccoon, although you haven’t yet seen a raccoon and you’re pretty sure they don’t live in the city but it would probably be better than a rat the size of a raccoon–

What you get is much, much worse as a fully grown man falls through the curtains, knocks over a side table and potted plant, and crashes onto your living room floor with a wheezed (but emphatic), “God damn it!”

You freeze, unsure of whether to run or yell or maybe both. However the man flounders on the floor, unable to otherwise move much as he holds his side and– is that blood on your floor?

“Are you okay?” you ask despite everything.

He yanks his head back to look at you and grimaces. “Fuck, I–” He tries to get up, slips in what you are almost positive is blood, and slumps over with a little sigh and a handful of muttered curses that might be in another language. “I am really sorry about this,” he says lowly, like he's embarrassed to be bleeding out in a stranger’s living room. Then he shifts a little more and moonlight gleams on his arm. His very…shiny…completely metal arm, and you find a whole new way to be concerned.

You should have known the reasonable rent was a goddamn trap.

You take a few steps back, barely avoid hitting the counter, and flick the light back on without taking your eyes away from the man on your floor. He squints at the brightness and shows you a face that is, both fortunately and unfortunately, familiar. Fortunately because Captain America and the Avengers somehow got him pardoned for potential war crimes and treason even without him being present for any of that circus of a trial. Unfortunately because…war crimes. And treason. And that is definitely blood.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out and looks a little woozy. “There were sheets– I thought the building was empty.”

“The sheeting is for the building right next to us,” you say and sigh. “I’m going to guess you are not in favor of me calling an ambulance?”

He just blinks at you a few times. Maybe he is secretly a raccoon.

“Please don’t,” he says, some life returning to his eyes, and he looks you up and down. The rubber duck pajamas must put him at ease because, while he is still tensely holding his midsection, his shoulders relax a little. “I’m so–”

“Sorry, yes, I know.” You point at the bathroom. “I’m going to get the first aid kit and hopefully I won’t have to explain to the coroner’s office why Captain America’s boo bled out on my floor.”

You’re just opening up the cupboard that hopefully contains at least some band-aids when he calls out, “What the hell is a ‘boo?’”

Two old t-shirts, one and a half rolls of dusty gauze, and his own homemade stitch kit later, the man is finally all patched up. “How are you not passing out from blood loss?” you ask, eyeing the mess on the nice hardwood that has definitely just lost you your deposit. But there’s no corpse to deal with, so at least things aren’t as bad as they could be.

“I’m built pretty hardy.” He sits up a little more and groans. Before you can beg him not to split his side again, he extends his hand. “James Barnes. But you can call me Bucky.”

You shake his hand (gently) and tell him your name. “Do you let everybody call you Bucky, or just the people whose floor you bleed all over?” Something moving catches your eye and you sigh at the sight of your inexpensive (but still nice) curtains blowing slightly, showing off their new stains. “Floor and drapes…”

“I’ll clean it,” he says. “I can get blood out of anything.” He winces. “I…that sounds worse than it is.”

“I imagine getting blood out of anything is a good skill for an international spy-assassin to have,” you say.

Bucky scowls. And, you think, blushes a little, though how he has enough blood to do that you don’t know. You look at the spot again. It looks big to you but maybe you’re making a fuss over nothing. No, wait, there’s still dried blood on your floor. You’re allowed a fuss. “So you know who I am.”

“Your boy made it hard to miss,” you say.

He grumbles to himself, then says, “He’s always such a drama queen. I didn’t need to be pardoned.”

“Really,” you say and look at the bloodied handkerchief wrapped around a bullet he dug out of himself. “Looks like at least one other person disagrees with you.”

“This was Steve’s fight, not mine.” He huffs. “Story of my goddamn lif–”

He suddenly falls back and you reach out instinctively to catch him. He recovers quickly, wild-eyed and stiff and you scoot back just in case. He takes a few deep breaths and seems to force himself calm. It doesn’t look very effective and you’re honestly starting to worry. “You really–”

“I did not faint,” he snaps and maybe he has more blood than you thought, or maybe absolutely all of it has come to collect in his face.

“I was going to say you really need a hospital,” you say. “But yeah, you did.”

He grumbles under his breath and then, as if predicting your protests, stands up quickly enough to waver. Serves him right, you think, but when he scowls at you, you wonder if maybe he’s psychic too. “Try not to pass out on your way home,” you say, because if he wants to leave there’s really nothing you can do to stop him.

“Funny,” he says. He clears his throat and adds, much more sincerely, “Thanks.”

For the t-shirts, for the first aid kit, for not calling the cops, for not calling the Avengers so Captain America can hone in on him like a cartoon hound, for not bitching about the floor too much– the list is many and varied and so you give him a simple nod and hope you can get even a little bit of sleep tonight because work tomorrow is going to be hell without it.

He goes back to the window and before you can point out you have a perfectly good door, Bucky slips out onto the fire escape again. You shrug to yourself and go over to firmly flip the lock. You’ve done your part– in the event he slips and hits his head, someone else can be the good Samaritan. You’re going to bed and tomorrow this is going to feel like a weird dream, if there is even a single good deity in existence.

You’re not sure if it’s proof of or a mark against the existence of said single good deity when Bucky shows back up in your fire escape the next evening and taps politely against your open window before he lets himself back in, scooting your new plant just an inch out of the way.

“I have a door,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

“Your hallway’s too well lit,” he says, much more hale and hearty and obviously not suffering major blood loss. His hair even looks like he just got out of the shower, all soft and shiny and bouncing a bit as he twists his upper body to start pulling stuff out of a backpack hanging off one shoulder. “I got stuff to clean the floor, and a replacement first aid kit. You outta keep it better stocked, so I got you one of the good ones.”

“O…kay,” you say, for lack of anything better. There’s a hysterical laugh building up in the back of your throat as the Winter Soldier brings out some rags and a cleaning solution for your bloodstained hardwood floor, but you cough it out and say, “Thanks,” when the formerly-feared international assassin looks at you like you’re crazy before he gets on his hands and knees and starts scrubbing.

It’s not fair no one would believe you. You’re not quite sure this isn’t an elaborate daydream, but then, you like to think you’d imagine something more fun than this. You clear your throat. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No thanks,” he grunts, glaring at the floor and rubbing at the stain like it has offended him personally. It’s a little worrisome when he goes at it hard enough to maybe rub a hole right through the floor– you’d rather deal with the stain– but there’s a hard edge to his eyes that make you think maybe it’s a good idea for him to work it out in a productive, non-violent way. And if it turns violent, hopefully he has some home repair skills to make up for it.

You busy yourself with making tea, using the nice pot and the nice cups you never get to break out, and by the time it’s almost done steeping Bucky isn’t rubbing quite so hard and, in fact, seems to have made the stain do a disappearing act.

“Nice,” you say. “You want some tea? I made plenty.”

He lifts his head and tilts it as he squints at you, like he’s still not sure of you. But he shrugs, says, “Sure,” and stands up, rolling his shoulders. He looks down at the floor and nods appreciatively before coming to sit on the other side of the counter. “It’s almost gone; just a little bit more and it’ll be like I was never here.”

That last part could have been a decent joke, but he said it so seriously you just clear your throat. “Thanks,” you say and start pouring. “My landlord is going to have to find some other excuse to try and keep my security deposit.”

Bucky snorts but otherwise makes no noise. At first it’s nice, if a bit awkward, as you don’t really feel the need to fill the silence, but it becomes clear by the way Bucky glares at the plant sitting in front of him on the counter that something is eating at him. You’re not sure whether or not to pry, but it seems polite to at least ask, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he grunts and leans even lower to the surface of the counter.

You stare at him. “I appreciate what you did, but you didn’t have to come back,” you say gently, because a pissed-off former-assassin isn’t really a problem you want to have on your hands. “I’m not awful enough to actually expect you to clean up your own blood the day after you nearly bled to death.”

“What?” He blinks and then scowls and shakes his head. “No, it’s not that; it’s…” He picks up his cup and downs all of it, despite the fact that it was still steaming. Tentatively you pour him another cup, to which he says, “thanks,” before loading it with sugar again. “It’s good,” he says and this time he sips it.

“It’s one of my favorites. Very soothing,” you say. “Normally.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I wish anything was soothing. You know Steve almost ran into a goddamn minefield today?”

You didn’t know that, you don’t think anything the Avengers do is any of your business, really, and where does one even find a minefield in New York City– you don’t say any of that, but you apparently don’t need to, because Bucky is off like a shot saying more words than you’d have thought possible for him. All of it is ranting about what a reckless dumbass Captain America is, and a Brooklyn accent increasingly comes through, egged into existence by sheer aggravation. You sit and listen, transfixed not so much by the details (they’re too fleeting and sparse) but by how annoyed Bucky is with Captain Amer- with “Steve goddamn pain in the ass Rogers” and you’re never going to be able to see him again without snickering.

Bucky sighs heavily and rests his chin on the table. He looks very tired, all of a sudden. Maybe a relaxing tea and enthusiastic rant wasn’t the best combination. Then again, he also looks less tense, so perhaps it’s fine. “Why don’t you stop for the night and go get some sleep,” you say and take away his cup. “You can finish up tomorrow.”

He squints at you, squints back at the floor (that you honestly can’t tell is any different from the rest), and looks back at you. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” you say and stack the cups. “When you come back refreshed you can tell me why Steve Rogers can never walk past that animal shelter without ducking his head in shame.”

Bucky’s smile is lopsided and he shakes his head. “Maybe,” he admits and hops off the chair. “I’ll just…leave the stuff here then, if that’s okay?”

You nod and he quickly picks up and puts the supplies in the empty bottom space of your side table. He goes for the window.

“I have a-!”

And he’s gone. You roll your eyes. If Steve Rogers really is as much of an asshole as Bucky says he is, then those two deserve each other.

For all that the Captain America mythos has been debunked for you, you’re still brought up short when you suddenly encounter Steve Rogers the next night.

On your fire escape.

He knocks his head against the railing in his scramble to simultaneously get up and face you, curses, and lifts his hands defensively. “I can explain.”

You rub your face with both hands. They definitely deserve each other. “I doubt that,” you mutter and sigh heavily. Thank goodness there haven’t been any actual fires; you don’t know how you’d get out with all these buff superheroes hanging around outside your window. “Have you lost something?”

Captain America looks at the ground for a moment, and then flashes you a smile. “…Yes?”

God, he is a smartass. “Do you want to come inside or do you want to risk some Nosy Nancy from the building across the street seeing a big shadow and calling the cops?”

That would never happen, but he slips inside almost immediately and then there he is, in all his uniformed, shield-holding glory. It’s too weird to think about, and you step back to give him (and you) space while you close the curtains. “Thank you,” he says politely and looks around. “Your apartment is lovely; it’s very…green.”

You’re not sure why he hesitates, until you see him looking at your yellowing majesty palm. “He’s coming back,” you say and go to adjust the plant for lack of anything else your nervous hands can do. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No thank you,” he says and stands with his feet shoulder wide and his hands clasped down in front of him. It is perhaps the least comforting thing he can do and for one ridiculous moment you wish Bucky was here to be in between you. You wish the Winter Soldier was here. To protect you. From Captain America.

You clear your throat. “So,” you say and grab yourself something. “Do you lurk outside everyone’s apartment at some point, or am I just special?”

For all his military posturing, Captain America squirms like a schoolboy. “I swear I wasn’t– okay, I guess I was but not intentionally? I was…looking. For something.”

“Something you dropped?” you ask him.

“A person,” he says, staring elsewhere. For a moment you have a paranoid thought he’s staring at the space where Bucky had fallen in that night, but no, he’s just looking at the window. At least you remembered to change the curtains.

“Pretty sure you can see one of those without squinting into the grates,” you say.

“He might have passed through on his way somewhere else,” Captain America says. “Have you seen a man outside?”

“Other than you?” you ask. He blushes even harder than Bucky does– and think of the devil, you have a moment where you’re not sure what you should say, but quickly come to realize that whatever is going on between the two of them, you do not want to get stuck in the middle.

You’re prepared to lie your ass off, but he apparently takes your response as a rebuke. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make you feel unsafe.”

“It’s fine,” you say. Despite his previous answer, you lean into the fridge to get him a bottle of water. “I’m pretty sure Captain America isn’t going to murder me. And if you decided you wanted to, well, there’s nothing I could really do about it.”

He chokes on the drink he’s just taken. You instinctively lean in so you can slam his back but after a couple of hits he covers his mouth and waves you off. “Sorry, sorry,” he says and grabs a nearby dishcloth to wipe up what he just spit on the counter. “That was just…really dark.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m not the one lurking on fire escapes,” you say.

He rolls his eyes. The nerve. You laugh and he actually grins. Asshole. His smile softens though and he says, “I’m really–”

“Sorry,” you finish for him.

“Am I that predictable already?”

You shrug. You want to tell him it’s because he and Bucky seem very much alike in that respect. You want to but…you don’t. Whatever Bucky’s problem is, he seems to want to deal with it himself, and it’s not your place to get in between them and start snitching. “You seem the type. Don’t worry about it so much. You…look pretty worried. I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“Thank you.” His lips turn into a sad sort-of smile and he takes a slower drink. “I guess I am pretty worried. This man I’m looking for, he’s…important to me, and he’s been through a lot, and I just want to know he’s okay.”

You stare at him. He looks down. And looks down. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to babble like that,” he says and glances at you with a strained smile. “I don’t normally do that.”

“Hm.” You stare at him for several seconds and notice he is blinking an awful lot. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m a little tired,” he says, quietly, and some of the posturing seeps out of him and he lets himself slump a little more. He suddenly shakes his head and sits up straight again. “Thanks again for…” He looks around and settles for shaking his water bottle.

You hold back a laugh. “Sure. I uh…do you need me to call you a cab?”

He shakes his head firmly and, to his credit, he’s pretty excellent at pretending to be okay. You almost believe him. “I can get home all right.”

“Well, please make sure you do. I can think of a lot of people who’d be sad to think of you collapsing on the way home because you wore yourself down to the bone,” you say. “And from how you seem to worry about your friend, I bet you can think of at least one.”

He blinks, like he’s surprised, but a smile curls onto his face, warm and true. “Good night,” he says, and because you’re so nice, you don’t stop him when he goes back out the window. At this point, it’s beginning to feel like a lost cause.

“What did you say to him?”

“I know you don’t like the door,” you say, not even turning away from the plant you’re watering. Any time you put down the canister you forget where you left off and you are not going to kill these plants by overwatering. Not again. “But maybe you could at least tap on the window when you decide you’re going to enter my apartment.”

“Why do you leave your window open?” Bucky huffs. You can hear him sit at the counter behind you. “You know what kind of creeps can take advantage of that?”

You finish watering the last plant and turn to stare at him. “I’m starting to get an idea.”

Bucky scowls. “I’m not a creep,” he mutters.

“Polite society encourages doorways instead of windows,” you say. “It’s okay. Captain America, apparently, is also a creep.”

Bucky sits up straighter. “What did he say?”

“Not much,” you say. “He was squatting on the fire escape like he could make you spontaneously materialize. I invited him in for an explanation and after a little while he went on his way.”

“After a little while,” Bucky repeats and squints at you suspiciously.

You shrug. “He likes to vent to complete strangers, apparently. But I didn’t tell him anything about you, it doesn’t seem fair to tell you anything about him. If you want to know, I get the feeling you can go ask him.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but he stands up and stretches. “You said I bled on the drapes?”

“I already scrubbed that out, if you can finish the floor,” you say and go for the tea pot. “Do you like green tea?”

“As long as you do it right,” he says and starts scrubbing again. “I hate it all bitter.”

You go for the good matcha and start preparing it while he works out his frustrations on your floor. You glance at him a couple of times but he seems fully focused on his task, until you finish the tea and call him back to the bar.

“Steve Rogers is a pain in the ass and don’t let anyone tell you different,” he grumbles, but it’s soft and there’s a troubled look on his face as he takes his cup.

“Do you miss him?” you ask and blow gently across your drink.

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. Just as you're about to apologize for overstepping, though, he speaks. “It’s hard to go back when you’ve done the shit I have, you know?”

No. You have absolutely no idea what it’s like to live as a free man after decades of literal objectification and being used as a murder weapon for fascists. But it doesn’t seem very helpful to say that, so instead you say, gently, “I can’t even imagine.”

Bucky bobs his head and takes another sip of his drink. You’re delighted he seems to be drinking it fairly quickly, but also a little dismayed because a good matcha latte takes a decent amount of work and it’ll take a little time if he wants another cup. “I want to go back but I can’t yet. I wish he wouldn’t be so goddamn stubborn about it is all. Just because he thinks I didn’t do anything wrong doesn’t make it true.”

You nod, like any of this makes any goddamn sense to you. But maybe– maybe it doesn’t have to. Maybe Bucky’s saying all this because you’re an outside entity with no personal stake in, or knowledge of, what counts as treason, or what’s needed to lack culpability, or what it means to be an absent friend.

He rambles, a little bit, and though about half the words are proper nouns you don’t recognize, you nod along, and when he finishes his latte you make him another one, and when he leaves, you don’t mention the door. Even though you want to.

You’ve actually forgotten how nice it is to have someone come through the door. Case in point–

“Um, I hope this is all right,” Steve Rogers, dressed in casual civilian fare and holding a small pot of flowers, says as you can do nothing but stare at him. “I just wanted to stop by and thank you again for being so understanding. May I…come in?”

That snaps you out of your funk and you quickly stand aside. “Of course; sorry, I just…wasn’t expecting you.”

“I was just going to leave the plant with a note if you weren't here, but I’m glad you were,” Captain Rogers says and walks in, and sets the pot down on the counter.

You walk over to the fridge. “Would you like something to–” As you turn to finish the question you see him glance furtively at the window. Ah, of course. He looks down guiltily and you can’t help but roll your eyes and laugh. Well, he did come through the correct entrance and brought some pretty flowers. “All right, you did knock on the door this time; go sniff around the fire escape all you want.”

“I’m just checking something I forgot,” he says quickly and goes to the window. He’s only outside long enough for you to brew some tea and he comes back in just as you’re pouring his cup. It isn’t until he’s about to take a sip, however, that he says, “Oh– I know it looks bad, but Bucky– sorry, James Barnes– I swear he isn’t dangerous.”

“I know. I saw some of the trial stuff,” you lie. Well, you did see some of it, but it wasn’t until you heard Bucky mutter “Martha Stewart was right,” while fussing at some of the blood on his shirt that you felt safer. Strange as it is to think.

Steve relaxes his shoulders like some of the weight is off of them. “You have no idea how good that is to hear. You wouldn’t believe some of the things people say to me. I can’t really punch people anymore because I’m so much stronger now but it’s so tempting sometimes. At least when it’s online I can mime punching them.”

His annoyed tone allows you to laugh a little. “Maybe imagine the block button is a punch in the face?” you suggest.

He grins. “My friend Clint suggested printing out the most irritating comments and taping them to a punching bag. It didn’t really work but the thought was nice. The block button as a punch to the face though…”

The guy doesn’t really need more violence in his life, but he genuinely seems pleased with the idea, so you let it be. And when he starts ranting in detail about some of the comments he gets about Bucky, you make a new pot of tea– chamomile. For the both of you.

You don’t know how the flowers are dead already– it seems like Steve just brought them and they were so pretty you immediately looked up care instructions and followed them to the letter. Or so you thought. But now, only days later, you have a pot of dirt and withered petals.

And Bucky sulking at your counter.

“I told him I was fine,” he says petulantly.

You sigh and bring the pot over to the sink and think about what to do. “Did you tell him in person?”

“In a letter. He knew it was from me.”

The soil looks nice, so you’ll dig out the remains and try to plant some replacement seeds. Maybe that was the problem– maybe the flowers were sick or something. “Well reading and seeing are two different things.”

“He knows I cover him in fights.”

You slowly look at Bucky. His oh-so intelligent response is to bristle like a cat and go, “What?”

You roll your eyes. “He’s desperate to see you, knows you’re near when he’s fighting, and you wonder why he’s “so goddamn reckless?’”

Bucky just glares. Yeah, these two morons absolutely deserve each other.

You hope Bucky figures it out sooner rather than later.

He doesn’t, but he keeps coming by, as does Steve, and you resign yourself to hosting two pining idiots who keep dancing around each other.

Bucky drinks anything you give him without complaint. However he drinks the lattes and almost anything green tea a little quicker, though he tries to hide his cup from you when he does. Whether he’s ashamed of going through them so fast or embarrassed you don’t know, but you start to give him bigger cups, and that seems to help.

The first time you give Steve a cup of apple pie spice, he gives you a severe glare– which he then completely undermines by liking the blend immensely.

“I swore the next person who offered me apple pie would get popped,” Steve says, an amusing mixture of half-bluster and half-shame as he sips from the classic teacup you hope not to regret handing him.

“Lucky for me it’s not actually apple pie,” you say. “Do people really make that joke?”

The eyeroll Steve gives that is 200% sass. “You have no idea,” he says, deadly serious, “–how funny people think they are.”

This becomes…oddly normal. Listening to Steve talk about anything that’s on his mind, giving Bucky new tea blends just to see how he reacts to them; your apartment is no longer just you and a bunch of greenery that seems to wilt more often than not. Everything seems warmer, and better– even your plants seem healthier. (For that, though, you suspect Bucky is giving them a special mixture of something after you catch a glance of him messing with one of the pots. You want to ask him what he’s doing, but you don’t want to admit that he’s better at taking care of them than you are.)

It’s so normal, that you feel the silence only after the first few nights without a visit. They don’t visit every night, but they visit often enough that you know they’re off somewhere even without them telling you. For a couple of weeks you try to pretend the quiet doesn’t bother you, but you check the fire escape twice every night, and then once more before you go to bed.

The next time you see Bucky is during one of these checks. There was no tapping, no noise to otherwise alert you, he’s just suddenly back, sitting next to the window, hunched over in black clothes nearly blending into the darkness and staring out at nothing in the night.

“What’s wrong?” you ask and crawl out to kneel next to him. “Are you hurt again?”

“No,” he mutters and continues to glare at some imaginary point in the distance. “Steve was, though.”

It’s a little harder to swallow. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbles and buries his mouth further against his arms. “He’s fine, strutting around the hospital like a- like a- …” He huffs and sits back to wave his arms before he curls back in on himself. “But it was close, and he’s an asshole.”

“Mm,” you say. “Chamomile mint?”

He sighs heavily but he gets to his feet and starts to enter, only to stop and hold open the curtains for you.

“Thank you sir,” you say with only a hint of sarcasm and go on ahead to get the tea started. Bucky snorts but doesn’t say anything and you use the time the water needs to heat up to take care of some of your plants.

“Stop it.”

The snap comes so fast from Bucky you immediately stop what you’re doing. He doesn’t look as angry as he sounded, but he’s frowning pretty hard. “You're overwatering that one; jade plants are succulents. You don’t need to drown it.”

You look at the plant and set the watering can down. “Oh.” You knew that. You think. You’re just nervous. “Did you see him? In the hospital?”

“Briefly. I didn’t talk to him; just made sure he was all right,” Bucky says. “And he is. I wouldn’t leave him if he wasn’t.”

That does assuage some of your concerns. Steve is nice. You want him to be okay. And Bucky is– also nice, but god, they’re both so fucking frustrating. “You couldn’t have just–”

“Don’t start with–”

“I’m just saying–”

“And I’m telling you not to say–”

“I pay the rent for all that you sublet my fire escape; I’ll say what I want,” you manage to finish to Bucky’s consternation. You lift your head proudly and he frowns to one side. And then he…smirks. You’re not sure you like that.

“Crappiest space in the city,” he says and sits up. “You could at least get a chair.”

You roll your eyes and dole out the tea, fixing it the way Bucky likes. No sugar for this one, but plenty of honey. “If I ever have to leave for an actual fire, I’ll be in enough trouble trying to get around you.”

“Nah. I’d carry you out,” Bucky says and lifts his cup in a silent ‘cheers.’ He takes a sip and the sigh sounds content, so you assume you did it right. For a few moments a comfortable silence settles between the two of you as you sip warm drinks surrounded by greenery (that is mostly green) and life goes on in faint sounds outside the confines of your home.

Bucky sets his empty cup down with a sigh. “Do you think, if I show up to throttle him, that he’ll actually start watching his own fucking back?”

You give that some serious thought. “Will you give him time to moon at you first?”

Bucky sighs with disgust and flumps back onto the counter. “This is stupid. This all feels so stupid.”

You open your mouth because you do have a lot of opinions about honest communication and using innocent civilian apartments to dance around each other, but Bucky shoots you a glare to let you know that a, he knows, and b, he doesn’t appreciate it. You roll your eyes and go back to drinking your tea. It is a very good blend, and you’re not going to let it go unappreciated because two early 20th century boys can’t get their shit together.

Not that you’re complaining, really– you’re starting to feel like less of a disaster by comparison. Or maybe letting two strange men into your apartment makes you just as bad by default. You rub the bridge of your nose. Yeah, no one is getting out of this looking sane. You feel like that should bother you more than it does, but it’s just a fleeting thought before you go back to worrying about Steve and pouring Bucky’s cup back to full.

The next night when someone knocks on your door, you’re only mildly surprised to see Steve on the other side. And most of that surprise is because you can see fading bruises on his face, and also because he is holding a fairly big potted plant with tall green and yellow-edged leaves.

“Hi,” he says and lifts the pot slightly. “I got you a present.”

“Uh, wow; thanks?” you say and quickly step back to let him in, momentarily forgetting he can probably carry it around with ease. Steve places the plant on the floor near the end of your couch, where it actually looks fairly nice. He gestures at it proudly. “It’s a snake plant. The man at the nursery said it’s very hard to kill.”

“You’re not funny,” you say but you look at it appreciatively. It is nice, and you could do with ‘hard to kill’. Speaking of– “Should you be up? You look like you should be in a hospital.”

He shrugs and his face goes neutral. “I’m healing well enough that there’s nothing a hospital could do for me. And I felt so…restless.”

You nod. “Want some tea?”

“Please. I really like what you make,” he says and immediately takes a seat at the counter. Oddly enough, it’s not the one Bucky always takes. You don’t realize you squint at the space for too long until Steve looks curious and asks, “Is everything okay?”

You squint at the countertop. “Yeah, just…trying to figure out if that’s a stain or a spot.”

Thankfully there is a spot of spilled something and you quickly grab a towel and wipe it away. You think it’s a pretty good save, but Steve looks at you with a raised brow, like he’s figured something out. You freeze. “What?” What are you going to say? How is he going to react? What will you–

“Was that a coffee ring?”

You blink a few times, and then roll your eyes as your chest practically deflates. He smiles and winks. “I can’t believe you.”

“I am a layered human being who can drink many things,” you say defensively. “And if you want coffee you’ll have to ask another time. I’m not giving you anything with caffeine in it when you look like you got hit by a truck.”

“Train,” he corrects absently. “It barely clipped me.”

You sigh and go for the sleepy blend. One of you is going to have to bow out of this conversation due to exhaustion and at this point you don’t care if it’s you. However it might truly come in handy as Steve keeps looking out the window and shaking his foot. You set the cup in front of him and before you can ask what’s wrong, he takes the cup in both hands and blurts out, “I think I saw him.”

You look at the window and squint. “Seriously?”

“Not here.” Steve rolls his eyes. Like you’re the crazy one. He blows gently across the surface of the liquid and says, “Though it’s strange you’d think I saw Bucky out of your window.”

“Isn't that why you started showing up here in the first place? I distinctly remember someone with a big red, white, and blue shield lurking on my fire escape.”

“Oh, right,” he admits sheepishly, hunched over his cup. His eyes glimmer with mischief as he looks up at you through long lashes and asks, “Did I ever apologize to you for that?”

You’re brought up short by the amount of boyish charm this giant walking wall of muscle manages to pack into that look and you have to find your tongue to say, “I– y-yeah…”

Steve chuckles to himself and you give yourself a mental slap on the face. “Troll,” you mutter and sip from your mug. The liquid is piping hot and burns your tongue, giving you an excuse to grimace when Steve flashes you a beautiful smile.

You’re in trouble.

Not physically, not immediately, and perhaps someone on the outside might say you’re being dramatic about it, but they wouldn’t know shit about the situation. They wouldn’t know about how your hands felt as they slid over Steve’s when he handed you a new small pot of flowers; they wouldn’t know about the feeling of serenity that settled over you when Bucky abandoned some of his oh so careful control and rested his head on your shoulder for four long seconds; they wouldn’t know how it feels like you’re missing something until someone shows up at your door or taps at your window.

You’re falling in love with two people who have always been, and still are, desperately in love with each other.

Isn’t that just your luck.

In the end, Bucky takes your advice more to heart than you ever expected he would– you and Steve are quietly enjoying each others’ company, with you standing in the kitchen and Steve sitting at the counter as per usual, when the curtains move dramatically for Bucky to slip in, which makes Steve whirl around, and your hands jerk so hard from all the sudden surprise that your cup slips out and crashes to the floor.

“Shi-” You forget to watch your step and immediately catch a jagged shard that embeds itself right under the ball of your foot. “Ow, fuck!”

Your name is said in different voices but very similar tones of alarm and you suddenly find yourself gathered into Bucky’s arms, bridal style, and he carries you over to the couch. “Wh-” You swallow at the close proximity to Bucky’s chest and the way he holds you so effortlessly but so securely. “I’m fine; it’s just a little–”

Bucky sits down on the couch and doesn’t move you, which means you are basically sitting cross-wise in his lap. This is not something you need after your recent revelation, and it doesn’t get any easier when Steve comes back with the heavy duty first aid kit Bucky got you and gingerly takes your foot to examine the injury. His sympathetic look towards you gives you the warning you need to brace yourself before he pulls the shard out. It doesn’t hurt too terribly and he’s almost tender as he cleans your foot.

“Look at us, matching blood and all,” Bucky says lightly.

“It’s my floor I’ll bleed on it if I want,” you grumble, but you’re too distracted by how focused Steve is on fixing you up. “You…seem to be taking this well.”

“I knew he had been here since the first time I came,” Steve admits as he rolls the gauze around your foot. “There was a bloodstain on your floor still.”

“Seriously?” You had thought Bucky was being overdramatic about the supposed stain and humored him, but it…makes sense. Why else would he come back the next night. Why else would Steve continue to come by. And because Steve had kept coming, Bucky had kept coming, and…they won’t need to come back anymore, will they? They now have what they’ve wanted. Each other.

Someone says your name and you force yourself back to neutral as much as you possibly can. Steve looks curious though and Bucky says, “What’s with that look?”

“There’s no look,” you say. “And if there is, it’s only because you two have devised the weirdest meet-cute ever– decades after you actually met.”

“Hm.” Bucky continues to stare at you, but doesn’t say anything else.

They come back. And they both use the door.

You don’t know what you’re more shocked by– that Bucky and Steve, having come back to each other, are still coming around to you, or that Bucky is actually walking through the designated threshold. You don’t have a lot of time to think about it though because the place is…a mess.

“What happened here?” Steve asks as Bucky’s shoulders go up to his ears and he looks around the place like he’s going to find something unpleasant.

“It’s not that bad,” you say and glance around. You’ve cleaned out a few of the pots already and stacked them away in the closet, but some of the plants are still…slightly alive, for a little while. A couple are even doing fairly well– one of which being the snake plant Steve got you.

“What happened to the jungle?” Bucky asks, looking around shrewdly. You don’t like the sound of that. It feels so…probing, and raises your hackles. Why should he care?

“I wasn’t keeping them alive for very long.” You flick a yellowing leaf and keep your tone light. “I just got tired of it. What are…what are you doing here?”

You don’t look at Steve, but he clears his throat and his tone is similar to Bucky’s when he asks, “Is now a bad time?”

“For what?” You square your shoulders and face them. Like an adult. Like an adult who had two other adults just sort of crash into their life one day and start sharing space until such time as the two window-crashers decided they…didn’t need to come around anymore. “I’m happy you both found each other. You didn’t have to come back.”

Steve looks…well, he looks hurt. You don’t know any other way to describe it; it doesn’t show in his face so much as in his eyes, in the feeling you get watching the line of his shoulders lower. But before he can say anything, before you can explain yourself, Bucky speaks up.

“It isn’t like that,” he says.

You look down. It’s easier than looking at a man who feels rejected, and a man who has you completely pegged.

“What?” Steve asks.

“It’s okay,” you say, in perhaps the biggest bald-faced lie you’ve ever told.

“That’s not– no,” Bucky insists and lifts your chin. His fingers are warm and gentle and linger too long.

You pull back from his touch before you can embarrass yourself further. “You guys were literally circling each other.”

“Please.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to keep coming back here to be near Steve. I know where he lives.”

“And I leave my window unlocked,” Steve says. He aims a cheeky grin at Bucky and adds, “Guess I should have left it open though.”

“Shut up,” Bucky tells him but looks at you and says, “Point is: we weren't using you.”

Steve blinks. “Oh– no, of course not!”

“It’s all right,” you say, trying as hard as you can to assuage their discomfort even though you can’t put much into it. Even though you did very much want this meeting to happen, somehow you don’t feel very ‘all right.’

“No,” Bucky says and takes your hand in his. The flesh hand, which he runs up to the middle of your forearm. His touch is gentle and light, even when he grips. You can break away, but you don’t– you let him pull you in, close and closer, until there’s barely any room between you.

Steve crowds from the side and puts one arm behind Bucky, and one arm behind you. “If you only think we’re here because of each other, then it’s not all right,” he says softly.

“I know it isn’t– I know you weren't ‘using’ m–” You swallow hard. “And I know it’s not–”

They both swoop in for a kiss– for a kiss with you. Somehow they avoid bumping heads and the lip-lip-lip contact is barely there, with Steve at the corner and Bucky barely catching one side of your upper lip, but they're both there for a glorious moment that leaves you stunned.

“Oh…” you say, dumbly. You try to fight it, but a smile pulls at your lips. “Oh.”

“That good already, huh?” Steve asks quietly, slowly forming a small smile of his own.

You let out a little sigh that is immediately undermined by an uncontrollable laugh that swells from a bubble of relief at the base of your throat. “Bucky’s right, you are insufferable,” you say but you reach out to sweep your fingers in a gentle touch down Steve’s cheek and under his chin.

“You get used to it,” Bucky says.

You think about that. Even with how you’ve been, entertaining these two rotating planets over the last however many weeks or months, this would be an entirely new normal.

You think you can’t wait to get used to it.

#steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #captain america fanfic #reader insert #stucky x reader #mcu reader insert

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xxfaylinnxx · 2 years

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Hey...

Actually, I don’t know how to start this...wow all of this regret is really messing with my mental health. I’m even considering leaving the fandom at this point as it is just too painful for me to go on. I made many positive experiences and memories with ahit but also really, really negative ones. It has got to a point where the negative outweigh the positive. I love a hat in time with all my heart but all the effort and work just never pays off. The pain is so much greater than the sense of achievement and fulfillment. It feels like a toxic relationship, because I always come back to it even if it hurts me so much. And I don’t want to feel this depressed ever again. I’ve been in this fandom for 3 years now, I met many great people, made friends, learned so many new stuff. But it also caused me so many down phases, self-doubts and negative memories. I have never stayed in a fandom this long and don’t know if I’m ready to leave. Of course this is also not the only reason as irl stress and other problems are catching up on me. Overall I am feeling just awful for the last few months. But this was probably the last straw that broke the camel’s back.

If you are wondering what had happened, basically I missed probably my biggest chance. I provided art for the newest mod of the Creator DLC “Vanessa’s Curse”. I drew covers for it, icons and designed an outfit together with my commissioner. At that time no one knew what would actually become of this mod. So when out of the blue a few months later I had to sign an agreement I declined. They couldn’t tell me what was going on or why it was needed. I was too scared of sharing my personal information and didn’t want to be exploided. I didn’t trust the creator to my misfortune. So I messed up. They couldn’t use my art for it anymore because of me not signing the contract and had to replace all of it. Now it’s all in vain and all the time and effort that went into it for nothing. I am so deeply regretting my choices, for being so selfish and also for missing out this huge opportunity. This mod meant everything to me, it would have fulfilled one of my biggest dreams to work with the offical ahit/gfb. But it doesn’t matter anymore, it’s over. And I’m left with regret and dissapointment in myself.

Maybe you can understand my situation a bit more now, maybe you don’t. Maybe I just need some time but it won’t be easy no matter what I do.

#A Hat In Time #ahit #talk

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cafeinthemoon · 2 years

Text

Portrait of a Monk - Chapter VIII

Chapter 8/?

Wordcount 3,5k

Title The Perfect Bride

Fandom Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing Geto Suguru X reader

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warning (s): None

Tagging @darling-imobsessed @wasurenagusaa

(if you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just send an ask or a message 😉)

A.N.: Nevermind, I'm just the mediocre type of writer who throws spoilers on chapters' titles 😭 Not that it wasn't totally unexpected, but it's something I have to improve.

Anyways, here we're gonna have the backstory of a certain gift, self esteem exercises with therapist!Geto and the announcement of new characters. They will be important in the near future, with the Winter and some other stuff approaching...

Hope you enjoy it! 🥰

Things have changed since that conversation at your master’s private garden. You still weren’t sure of what to think or to feel about it, and if they asked you the only thing you would say is that your life became even stranger: though you were still in your role as his assistant and were still training as his apprentice, now you were also treated as a betrothed or a favorite lover.

As a worker in his house, you still owed him the same respect and diligence from before, but Geto-sama started spoiling you with little treats and unexpected acts of gentleness during your daily routine.

Sometimes, when he noticed you were too busy or too anxious, he would stay and work with you, whether talking or in silence in order to calm you down, and other times he would even release you from your tasks and finish them for you. Like the modest soul you were, you would always try and reason with him, saying that it wasn’t necessary since you’ve always managed everything by yourself, but Geto would not accept such excuse.

- This is the least I can do for my y/n-chan – he would claim with a kiss on your forehead or on your lips – After everything she has done for me.

During your training sessions, the levels of difficulty were maintained or improved, but your master was now more attentive whenever you seemed tired or got hurt.

There was one time when you were engaged in a physical fight with one of his curses and made one wrong move; the spirit ended up striking you and you fell on the floor, right after complaining of a deep ache on your left ankle. Geto immediately stopped the fight and called the curse back, then took you in his arms and went to the nursery.

In the end, the injury wasn’t as serious as it seemed – it was more of a shock – and the master who treated you was able to heal it in seconds using a complex reversed technique, however your training was interrupted for an entire week and your activities were limited in a way that you were basically allowed to go from your bed to the porch, and then back to your previous place. During that period, Geto would see you from time to time and ask how you were feeling. He would also make sure your meals were served at the same hours during the day, and sometimes would even bring them to you.

When you questioned him if stopping his own activities to check on you so often wasn’t a burden since you weren’t really sick, he just laughed.

- Are you asking me if I do not have anything else to do besides taking care of you? Yes, of course I do. But the other things can wait. Not only this, but I have no plans to go out for the next days, so it will not cause me any trouble to be with you, my dear.

You were on your bed at that time, and he was sitting beside you. Before you could protest, he leaned in and gave you a kiss on your temple. He then summoned one of his curses, a small one with a pair of yellow wings, and ordered it to stay near your room’s door.

- I’m going to leave it here for good measure – he explained – Send it back to me if you need something. I will be in my office.

You gave up on arguing and just replied with a soft “Yes, Geto-sama”. He kissed your lips and then left.

Since you weren’t used to stay idle, those days felt like eternity to you, except for the times you were reading, fixing some of your clothes or spending precious minutes with your master, sometimes engaging in calm conversations while you were on your bed, other times sitting quiet on the porch during the cold mornings, your feet protected by socks dangling over the grass, your head leaning on his shoulder, your eyes closed as he had his arm around you, the comfortable fabric of his clothing warming your body until you fell asleep again, only for him to take you back to your bed.

In the end, you thought you took a well deserved rest, but when you were fully recovered – in Geto’s opinion – you were more than ready to get back to your old, active routine. He would still tell you to not overwork yourself whenever he had the opportunity, but since nothing bad happened, he finally accepted that you were back to your normal again.

***

If you already sensed that your master was drawing strict lines between you and the other people in his house, now that he exposed his feelings for you, there were no reasons to restrict such behavior anymore. He would keep you by his side for even longer periods and would demand his children to “pay you the respect you deserve”, as he used to say: no suspicious look or trivial comment towards you would be tolerated, and if he dreamed that one of these things happened, he wouldn’t hesitate in disciplining the responsible for them; as expected, things could get harder in this sense if the people involved were men.

You knew that this over protection would rather lead to more problems inside the family than solving the already existing ones, but trying to discuss this with Geto-sama was useless: he did things as he pleased and would only tighten the ropes, convinced that with this any disturbance would soon pass.

One day, a gloomy Saturday when the rain kept you inside the house and you haven’t much to do, you were sadder than normal, thinking of this. You were organizing some books in his office, alternating between sighing and checking the titles when you heard the door slipping. You turned you head toward it, knowing it was him.

You didn’t need to open your mouth for your master to see you weren’t well.

- Is this dark weather bringing you down, my dear? – he closed the door behind his back – Or is there something else bothering you? – and with a slight change in his tone – Something that has nothing to do with the rain?

You shrugged and put the book in your hands on the shelf.

- It’s nothing that could be solved right now, Geto-sama. So talking about it would be a waste of time.

He approached the table from where you were picking up the remaining books and started working with you.

- A waste of time? What are you talking about?

Finally, you confessed you were feeling lonely. You were tired of sensing the avoidance in people’s manners, of the consciousness that you probably had no friends among your master’s children and that they didn’t like you for the position you were in.

- They’re afraid of me, not only because of my role here but mainly because of my technique. I can feel it – you looked away, hopeless – They will never respect me if they continue to see me as a distant, dangerous individual, no matter how many times they get punished for this.

Your master didn’t show annoyance with your words or dismissed your worries, suggesting that you were seeing a problem where there was none. Instead, he thought of the case for a moment, then turned to you with the enigmatic smile that used to precede his surprises.

- If this is the way you feel… I guess you are going to love what I have for you now.

You swallowed.

- For me? How so?

He took the last book from the table and put it in the shelf.

- In the next days, we will be receiving new children in our house, my dear. Two of them are girls, cousins, one or two years younger than you. Nanae and Makoto are their names. My intention is that they make you company and work under your supervision, in order to relieve you from the less important tasks and give you more time to dedicate yourself to the essential ones. Their personalities are opposite to each other, so you will have to find out the best way to deal with this, but I think it will be fun to you – he giggled – Despite that, they are smart and have good disposition, and are eager to meet you.

You couldn’t see your own eyes at that moment, but you were sure they became bright when you heard that. Did your master notice how the isolation was affecting you and your performance and decided that getting you adoptive sisters was the best thing he could do to help you? Perhaps. If that was the case, it meant that he indeed took your words seriously, but preferred to surprise you instead of just come up with verbal agreements.

Well, did it matter now? He came with a solution for your problem, and saved from boredom at the same time. You could only thank him now.

- Thank you for listening to me, my Lord – you replied with a smile – They will be very welcome here.

He laughed.

- I know. When they were informed that they were going to live here with you, they were so excited that I had to tell them to be patient. Also...

He took one step closer to you and held your chin with the tips of his fingers.

- It’s been a while since I’ve seen a genuine, spontaneous smile on this beautiful face. I just couldn’t let things this way – he caressed your cheek, then left a brief kiss on your mouth – I had to do everything in my reach to bring it back.

***

Another thing that you thought you’d never get used to was Geto-sama’s habit of bringing random gifts from the outside world for you without any reason: you were just there at home, minding your own business and he would suddenly approach and put a small package in your hands.

When you asked him what made him buy it, the answer was always the same:

- I was passing by and noticed it. It reminded me of you and I decided to bring it – and with a giggle – Don’t I have permission to spoil my y/n-chan?

And the discussion would end here, for he would only insist with you to open it and tell him if you liked it.

Most of the times, the gifts were ornaments, but he already brought you a little of everything. There was one time when he bought you a book; in other occasion, you noticed he was observing you with more insistence than usual, and when you questioned him if there was something wrong with your appearance, he just denied; later that day, when he came home with a Spring dress, you understood he was in fact taking your measures.

If the gifts were something like an earring or a necklace, Geto would never miss the chance to put them in you, which seemed to bring him the pleasure of someone who dresses up a doll. This sensation would only get deeper as he brought more elaborated and expensive things, but seeing the contentment of your master was a priority for you, so you never questioned it or asked him to stop.

The apex of the gifting habit came when, one morning, he arrived at your room’s door and called you to his office.

- Good morning, my dear. I hope you are well.

You were still making your bed, something that you used to do with your door open. You startled with the greeting, but straightened up and replied with politeness.

- Morning, Geto-sama. I hope the same to you.

- Can you come with me for a moment? – he beckoned you – There’s something waiting for you in my office.

You swallowed; there he goes with another treat, you thought. You didn’t like to leave your tasks unfinished, but you followed him anyway.

He slipped the door closed with a soft movement once you stepped into the office, then went to his table and took something from it, so fast that you only saw what it was when he turned back to you: a delicate, black box in rectangular shape, adorned in all its sides with golden flowers.

Geto called you closer and put it in your hands. If you were already enchanted with its beauty at distance, now that you had it under your reach you were marveled: the flowers would come together to a specific spot in its front, culminating in a golden button that could be opened with a click. It was the work of a master, you knew it. And to think that something so fine, so well designed was now being held by you made you tight your grip around it little bit, so scared you were of letting it fall.

- So beautiful… – you murmured to yourself; then, raising your eyes to your master – Is it for me?

Geto smiled at your incredulity.

- Of course it is! Why do you think I am showing it to you?

You passed your fingers upon the box’s cover, still finding it hard to believe that such a gift was bought for you.

- Thank you so much, my Lord... But what’s inside it?

You were so stunned with the appearance of the box that you didn’t even think of opening it, so Geto patiently indicated the button.

- You will only find out if you open it.

You pressed the button and it released the cover. You pulled it up and it revealed the finest hairpin you’ve ever seen in your life. Lying over a layer of red velvet, the object was as golden as the flowers outside the box; attached to it there was a rich imitation of a bouquet, where each flower had their petals represented by a jewel of different shade, all of them framed by silver.

You took it from its vessel in a hesitating gesture, and he took the box from your hands to put it back on the table.

He turned back to you with a cheerful smile and asked for the hairpin.

- Now, let’s see how it looks!

He passed his hands around your head and reached your hairpin. You felt his fingers unbinding it from your hair and then passing it to you over your shoulder; you took it and let him continue.

When his fingertips started traveling through your scalp, untangling your locks, you closed your eyes, absorbing each movement, each gesture. You remembered the day when he kissed you and recognized the meaning of the flower he put in your hair in what he was doing now: he was keeping you for himself, taking care of you, adorning you as the precious being you were. But, unlike that day when the idea of your importance left you ashamed, today you embraced it, thanking it for existing.

Finally, he took all your locks and arranged it in a bun, tying it up with the new hairpin. With his index finger, he released one thin lock from your nape, and two others on each side, before your ears.

Your master just took a few minutes in this work, sometimes in silence, other times mumbling some song you didn’t know, but you felt like you’ve been there for hours. When everything was over, you blinked twice as to wake up from a dream.

You felt Geto’s hands over your shoulders.

- If my y/n-chan could see herself now – he smelled your hair and left a brief kiss on the top of your head, to not mess the bun – But she’s going to do it soon…

You didn’t reply. You tried to disguise the warmth raising up to your cheeks when he passed by you and turned around the table. He opened a small drawer on it and took a rounded object with him: a mirror.

After signing for you to follow him, he entered in the office’s bathroom. You left your old hairpin on the table and went right after him, soon understanding his purpose: there, you could use the mirror on the wall to cross its reflection with the one you were holding, making possible for you to see the final look.

When you did it, it was with enchantment that you observed the colored flowers blending with your own hair shade, setting it off in a way your old accessory never did. It was funny that you always thought that an object like a hairpin should only stick to its primary function, which is to hold one’s hair together, but this new one came to change this concept of yours and make you see yourself in another way, a better one: for the first time in your life, you thought of yourself as pretty, as the sweet thing your master claimed you to be.

You might have been quiet for so long that he started to get worried.

- Is there something wrong, my dear? Didn’t you like it?

You quickly corrected the mistake.

- Oh, no! It’s not that I dislike it. Actually, I loved it… – you looked into the small mirror, touching your hair with hesitation – I was just thinking... in which occasion I could use it? I have no idea! – you sighed – Maybe because it is not really for me, my Lord.

You heard him giggle right before he took the mirror from your hands and put it upon the sink. You were now looking into the mirror in front of you, and Geto was one step behind you; through the reflection, his eyes met yours, reading in them what you had no courage to reveal in words: that you felt that he was trying to make you fit in a place that wasn’t yours, that pretty things were only for the pretty ones, not for you, and that you should be ashamed of what you did one minute before, thinking of yourself differently.

Such judgment, you saw, was disappointing to him.

You observed while his hands slipped all over your arms and reached again for your shoulders, narrow in comparison to them. However, this time they didn’t stop there: one would go through your collarbone, its fingers dancing on the edge of your simple cleavage, while the other would grope through your neck and find your chin, measuring the shape of your jawline.

- How can you suppose that, my dear? That something so beautiful is not for you when each day you look in the mirror and find this face staring back at you? – his thumb caressed your lips, then your cheeks – Take a look at this mouth, these eyes… Tell me if these are not the traits of a fairy or a doll, so lovely is the manner in which they were designed!

Your eyes widened a bit with those comparisons. He spoke with such firmness that you were almost believing in them.

- Yes, I know that, with the amount of responsibilities that were put in your shoulders, you barely had the time to think of these things, but seeing you acting like this makes me so sad… So let me ask you a favor, hm?

- A favor? – you inclined your head a bit to the side.

Geto leaned toward your ear and whispered in it.

- Start thinking a little more softly about yourself – he kissed your earlobe – Start seeing yourself the way I see you. Can you do this, y/n-chan?

- I…

- Promise you will try, my dear – he mumbled in response – For yourself and for me. After all… I just brought the perfect gift for the perfect bride.

This time, nothing could have been done to conceal your reaction to such words. You had each detail of it in its entirety for you and for him to watch: the immediate widening in your eyes, the thin gap between your lips when they spreaded, no sound coming out of them except for a gasp, all the little traces of confusing emotions that crossed your skin, dictating your expressions, your raced breath – all of this was exposed to you and was enjoyed by him, who would not take his eyes off you for a single moment.

- What do you think? – he continued with his whispered talking – Would it be good if I made my y/n-chan indeed mine, and if I became hers in yet one more sense?

Since you remained quiet, Geto went on alternating his monologue with gentle kisses on your hair, sometimes approaching his nostrils to sense its perfume, this time not so concerned about undoing your hairstyle.

His hand was still holding your face. You put yours upon it and turned your lips to kiss his palm, then rubbed your cheek on it, seeking for its warmth.

- If that happened, Geto-sama… it would be wonderful.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk ff #jjk fic #jjk geto #geto #geto suguru #geto x y/n #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n

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berlinini · 2 years

Text

we made it (2021 version)

So this is longer than I intended and if you read the first sentence and ask yourself what the fuck is this, you can skip to the important part aka the end. TLDR: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for an incredible year in this fandom, 2021 would have sucked (even more) without you, Louis & Louies i love you so much ❤️

So I'm at the point in my NYE "celebrations" where I decided to listen to Fireproof in honor of that time in March-April 2021 when I would listen to that song obsessively because it just conveyed my mental state (there's something about blasting "I think I'm gonna lose my mind" at the beginning of the work day from your dining-room-turned-home-office). There were many songs that I would go and listen on repeat later on in a probably unhealthy manner, like Louis' cover of 7 for the whole month of September (somehow "I need another year lone" felt right to me 2 years into a pandemic), Zayn's entire and thankfully very long discography this summer, Sam Fender's Last to Make it Home this fall and more recently Arctic Monkey's One for the Road. My weird consumption of music apart, what these things have in common is that I associate them strongly with different periods of this year and they are all songs that I've discovered thanks to this fandom. Anyways, when there isn't much going on, at least we have music and nature.

It really isn't an understatement to say that this year has been completely changed for me when I discovered Louis' music and joined tumblr and this amazing amazing fandom. So many of my memories this year are linked to being here, with the things Louis did or the stuff that happened on louie tumblr, and the endless fun I've had with people I met here.

I'm not joking, if someone asked me the highlight of 2021, I would reply AFHF. I have such vivid memories of watching the festival on blurry streams on August 30, and all the emotions I felt in my living room, and doing the same a week later with an amazing documentary and an HD version of the concert. It was peak Serotonin Boost™️ for my pandemic brain. Thank you Louis!!! Thank you for being such an incredible person and artist, you make it so easy to be your fan! Now release new music. I will also remember 2021 for the fun Euro content it provided (and my first interaction with @shutterbug2012), how I was secretly hoping England wouldn't get eliminated, watching the finale in a bar during my vacations and being so torn about cheering for Italy.

I will remember the excitement every 28th of the month, the merch drops, the monthly check-in tweets, the awesome fandom projects we've had for Hallouween and to celebrate Louis' 30th birthday (s/o to @louisprojects), the tag games (s/o to @seasurfacefullofclouds1 and @venusrobots), the random horny asks (s/o to @silverfoxlou #flatfingers and to @crankydee's cursed images), the zouis breakdowns (no thanks for @louis-in-red @itsallaboutzayn and @icarusfallsforwalls), the louie love letters, the daily what's-Val's-breakdown-of-the-day (@bluelightsaber never stop ilysm) and the awesome GIFs and edits that never fail to amaze me (s/o to @longhairedlouist91 and @quetzal-28 moodboards, @fruitylouis mindblowing gifs and @stormyhale manifesting edits). Special mention to fan fic writers and rec blogs (@allwaswell16 and @quelsentiment) for the endless tabs I have open on my computer and that weird moment a coworker asked me what I was reading at the moment and couldn't exactly tell the truth. I even want to thank the unhinged anons in my inbox for making me laugh out loud a few times, and the 'normal' anons who allowed me to ~discourse~.

Thank you to everyone who is part of the fandom and who's here to support Louis as he's preparing to take over the world ❤️Thank you for welcoming me, thank you for sticking around and for making cookies out of crumbs. Thank you for being here, for interacting with me, for following me.

If you've made this far, I want to wish you a Happy New Year!!! 🎉

☀️2022 is the year of Louis Tomlinson and of Louies 🤞

✨ Faith in the Future ✨

#sorry 🙃#louies i love you #happy new year #faith in the future ing for 2022 to be better and filled with loutent #anyways bye ✌️#tumblr user berlinini

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mystic-sky · 3 years

Note

This is just a request, but do you think you can write something short about gojo meeting his s/o who is a poc and how he’d react to her curly hair 🥺👉🏾👈🏾 the fandom is still pretty new so there’s not a lot of poc drabbles out there if any at all.

Here you go bby, I hope you enjoy 💕✨

Summary: An AU where you’re a sorcerest whose stationed in Japan due to the National Sorcerer Exchange Program I just made up lol. Even though it’s your first encounter Satoru is a big flirt, as usual✨💘

Word count: 1.7k

It was annoying, being one of the few special grade sorcerers based in Tokyo. Satoru Gojo often wished he could duplicate himself at least three or four times, just to reduce some of the workload stress he had. The older he got, the more he wished he wasn’t the strongest- and that’s a pretty surprising statement on his end.

He felt he couldn’t catch a break. Between special grade work, his students and now looking after Yuji Itadori, who hysterically swallowed a special grade object, he had a lot on his plate.

It was hardly a burden for him. He only wished he could be in multiple places at once. This way, he could make sure the higher ups wouldn’t mess with his students, who meant so much to him.

In sight of the increased special grade activity in Japan and several other countries, the first ever Sorcerer Exchange program was implemented by higher ups across the world. It would ensure that special and first grade sorcerers were evenly spread out and or placed in regions that needed special attention. Satoru wasn’t particularly fond of anything the higher ups did, but this idea wasn’t so bad.

“A government funded, international sorcerer exchange program,” Yaga informs Satoru, who sits across from him, idly drinking his tea.

“And how does this work exactly?” Satoru raises a brow at Yaga before dropping cubes of sugar into his cup, stirring loudly.

“For 6 month spans, high level sorcerers who applied to the exchange will be stationed in different countries to regulate curse activity.”

“Sounds like it pays more. Nanamin might like that.”

“It does, depending on your skill level.” Yaga sits back in his seat. “We’ve already received a few sorcerers from America, Africa, China, Russia-”

“All special grade?” Satoru interjects.

“Currently the exchange program only allows special and first grade sorcerers. Considering the high levels of cursed energy around the world this year, it would be best if we avoided any casualties by placing inexperienced sorcerers in the wrong places.”

“That reminds me. You’re prohibited from participating, considering we’re a red area. Until cursed activity improves here you won’t be allowed to participate.”

“Aww c’mon, you guys suck.” Satoru cocks his head back, sighing loudly.

He already traveled a lot for special grade missions but never for more than a few days. Now there was a whole six-month program and he wasn’t allowed to participate in it? Then again, he couldn’t leave Yuji here with the possibility of the higher ups trying to hurt him again. He promised himself he would protect all of his students.

“There are several meetings I must attend tomorrow and I’d like for you to be there. Don’t be late.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Satoru is already up and gripping the handle on the office door.

“I’ve also decided to assign a co-teacher to your first years, for your shorter stationed trips every now and then. She’s an extremely talented special grade from the exchange program. So you needn’t worry of a repeat of the detention center incident with Yuji.”

He had already swung the door open, towering above your body in the door frame. Your nose is barely touching his jacket, and hand almost touching his chest as you were attempting to knock. You take a step back, a bit startled.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I tried to knock,” you say, looking up at the blindfolded man in front of you. “I’m looking for Masamichi Yaga?”

Satoru is startled by your flawless Japanese, considering you’re clearly not of Japanese descent. He took note of your tan skin and big, curly hair that was pinned back in certain spots to display your face.

What a cutie.

“No, I’m Satoru Gojo. Principal Yaga’s the one sitting behind me.” He’s not entirely surprised by your appearance, considering he’s traveled all over the world to fight curses. “And you are?”

You almost think he’s flirting, considering how smooth the question was. Also, you’re now recognizing who he is, cheeks reddening a bit.

“I’m (Full Name). You’re the special grade I’m going to be subbing with for the first years! I’ve heard great things!” You politely bow a bit.

“I know.” His grin large and cocky as he steps out the way, allowing you to walk in. “No need to be so formal though.”

You’re slightly put off by his attitude, but principal Yaga interjects quickly.

“(Last Name), come in. I’ve been awaiting your arrival. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Yaga is on his feet now, bowing towards you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I’m excited to work with you all.” You say as he motions you to sit and have some tea.

Satoru has found a reason to stay in the room, plopping down beside you and taking up his tea he had previously abandoned.

“Thanks for sending Ichiji to the airport to help with my belongings. I brought so much stuff, I hope it wasn’t too much for him.” You brain flashes back to Ichiji struggling to hold all of your luggage outside the baggage claim.

“Pffft, feel free to call on him whenever you want. That’s what he’s here for.” Satoru assures you, flashing you a toothy grin. You get the feeling that he probably made Ichiji’s job a living hell.

“I must say, Ms. (Last Name), your Japanese is remarkable. How did you become so fluent?” Yaga asks, filling your cup.

“I’m flattered. I taught myself what I could before attending (insert random ass college name in Japan) University. I’ve always admired Japanese culture so I studied it pretty hard. I can also speak (Native language, if you have one) and (two other languages of your choosing).”

“Wow, your Japanese is better than most locals.” Satoru chuckled. “And you’re pretty too. Lucky me.”

You shifted in place on the sofa. The most powerful sorcerer known to man was sitting beside you and he was complimenting you.

“Thank you,” you say loosely, picking up your teacup.

“Ahem,” Yaga interrupts, earning a tiny snort from Satoru.

“He hates it when I flirt.” Satoru whispers as he leans over towards you. Your face feels a bit hot, and you decide it’s from the steam of the tea in your face and not the handsome man leaning a bit too close to you. You set the cup down after the lightest sip.

“I hate to get down to business so soon Ms. (Last Name), but I’d like for you to get settled in as soon as possible. I’ve mapped out a few assignments for you this week. This is your first.” He slides the first report across the table.

“There have been several reports of abnormal cursed energy in Shinjuku City. It’s likely a special grade. I’d like for you to get to the bottom of it. It shouldn’t be a problem, considering your level of expertise. I’ve forwarded the documents to you as well.” The glint in his glasses makes you chuckle a bit. You flip through the report briefly.

“I skimmed this one on the flight. Whatever it is,” you begin, taking out your phone, “seems to be luring children. This corresponds with the rise in missing childrens’ cases I read about in Shinjuku.”

You place the article on your phone down on the table for principal Yaga to read. You liked to do your own research on locals news to see if curses had any sort of correspondence with a certain area’s events.

“You think a curse is kidnapping children?” Satoru suggests.

“It’s just a hunch. It’s nothing I haven’t encountered before.” You bite the nail on your thumb, realizing the inevitable.

“Unfortunately, if I’m correct, those children most likely aren’t alive.”

You stand up, firmly.

“I trust you’ll take care of it then,” Yaga hands your device towards you.

“Most definitely,” you look at your watch. “And I’ll be done before dinner.”

You offer the principal a smile before you slip on your trench coat, eager to take on your first mission.

“By all means, it can wait until the morning after you’ve rested.” Yaga persists.

“Nope! Not when children are potentially involved. I can’t risk it.” You straighten your clothes, and bow once more. “I’ll report back soon.”

“(Name) doesn’t let jet lag stop her from doing her job. What an admirable woman.” Satoru cooed.

“Well, Gojo-san, it was a pleasure meeting you.” You begin to wave but Satoru is on his feet, and right behind you, making you stumble back again.

“Oh no, I’m coming with you.” He grins. “I’ve gotta see what the most powerful special grade sorceress is capable of in person.”

While you had heard of your own nickname before, you hated when people called you that. You tried your best to be humble about it. There’s always new ways to improve your cursed technique, even if you don’t know how yet.

“So you do know who I am,” you shifted your stance, hands on your hips.

“I’ve heard a few things,” he says slyly. “But I’d like to see them first hand.”

“Hmph, alright then. I suppose you can show me around Shinjuku. It’s been a while since I’ve been there.” You flip your hair, making your way towards the door.

“And it’s your lucky day, I feel like showing off.” You say, peaking over your shoulder.

“Great, it’s a date.”

You stop dead in your tracks, just two steps out of Yaga’s office.

“What?”

“Even after four years of university in Japan? I said, it’s a date.”

The door shuts behind him, and his grin is even more smug.

The audacity.

“You’re not going on a date with me unless you ask me properly.” You roll your eyes, swaying down the steps. So this was Satoru Gojo.

“C’mon sweetheart, we’d be iconic as hell— the strongest man and the strongest woman? We’d be unstoppable.”

“I don’t even know what you look like underneath that thing.” You say, motioning towards his blindfold.

Oh , but you lied. You’d seen his Instagram.

He was a selfie fanatic. That and a cake fiend.

“Wanna see right now? Will it change your mind?” His voice low and steady behind you.

“I’ve got a curse to excorcise.” You roll your eyes, speeding up ahead of him. It didn’t help much considering his legs were so long.

“You know you wanna,” he bends down, voice deep in your ear.

“I’m not listening~

You’re far ahead of him now, attempting to hide the heat on your face and hearing deep chuckles echo behind you.

“Ah, this is going to be the best six months ever!” He laughs heartily.

A small smile crept on your lips.

Maybe it would be.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x POC reader #jjk gojo #poc fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo sensei #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo saturo #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #gojo x satoro x reader

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woodrokiro · 3 years

Text

Bar Service (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Characters/Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: Bartenders--especially bartenders around the corner from her apartment--are strictly off limits. Restaurant AU. Written for @ichirukimonth . TW warning for mentioned child abuse.

She doesn’t think much of the restaurant a few blocks away from her new apartment.

She always passes it to and from her work commute, of course. Maybe from time to time she glanced over, musing how it looks cute enough--a great place to take a date or some friends....

Before Rukia remembers: 1. She doesn’t have the time or capacity to date, and 2. She has no friends here yet… And probably won’t for a while, considering her lifelong difficulty making them in the first place.

It’s fine by her, honestly. She likes throwing everything she has into her job, loves doing her best to earn a smile or laugh from her patients. That’s enough social interaction for her, and at the end of the day she can go home, pour a glass of wine, switch the television on to some silly drama and order takeout without mourning the “loss” of a Friday night.

So for the first few months that she’s living in Karakura: no. She doesn’t even think about stepping foot in Amore e Morte.

Until she gets a particularly bad case at work.

The fact that it was a foster child case alone makes her heart hurt--but of course, there’s always more with these sort of situations.

A little girl named Hina, aged eight but looking so much smaller waiting there in her office. The social worker sitting with her--a woman named Rangiku, who Rukia knows a little and actually quite likes--squeezes Hina’s tiny hand before pulling Rukia to the side, quietly explaining the situation.

Physical abuse from her former home where she had been for a year. Her teacher kept noticing bruises in odd places and finally called CPS, who did nothing for two months before the behavior escalated and Hina ended up in the ER.

Her new foster mom is a real nice lady, says she hasn’t been acting out or anything but… Rangiku shrugs, flashing a reassuring smile when the little girl looks their way. You know.

She knows.

So Rukia does what she does best: she goes to the little girl, introduces herself by her first name, and focuses on her work until she can sob angrily in her car at lunch break.

And when her workday is done, when her emotions are fried and she’d really like a drink or three anywhere but her lonely apartment--she sees the restaurant’s sign, glowing warmly in the dusk light.

Amore e Morte. Love and death. A weird name for a restaurant, she thinks, and wonders if the owners either don’t know Italian and thought the name was cool or are just uppity snobs.

If you’d stop being so cynical you might go out and actually enjoy life. She can practically hear Renji’s voice scoffing in her ear now.

She parks her car at home before walking back over to the restaurant.

The outside of the restaurant is nice enough, but the inside is… Well. Lovely.

Brick walls painted white make the entire place look minimalist yet cozy. A couple of trendy paintings hanging sparsely through the restaurant makes the environment chic, but not overbearing. A few hanging lanterns bring just enough light to let everyone see where they’re going, but otherwise candles are utilized at each of the tables for a romantic touch.

Rukia sees by the sheer number of couples there that it is indeed a good place to bring a date.

And by the looks of one dish smelling deliciously of chicken and bell peppers that passes her by in a waiter’s hand, the food isn’t too bad either. Rukia’s mouth waters.

“A table for one, miss?”

Rukia startles from her musings, feeling rather silly as the bright and cheery hostess smiles patiently back.

“Oh! No, I don’t think that’s necessary. I wouldn’t want to take up one of your tables. Do you have bar seating?”

“Of course! Right this way.”

The hostess leads her into an adjacent room that sits tucked away from the main dining room. There’s still a couple of tables in this room, and two of the eight bar stools are occupied but it’s so much quieter here, the noise of the dining room a mere buzz. She breathes a small sigh of relief as she takes the stool at the far end. She wanted to be out and about, just… Not that out and about.

“Our bartender Kurosaki-kun will be taking care of you. I believe he’s just in the back talking to Chef, he should be right back.”

Rukia thanks her, taking a glance at the menu.

She quickly finds out Chef Yasutora Sado’s menu inspiration is Mexican-Japanese fusion cuisine, which is… Interesting, considering the restaurant’s name is Italian. In any case, she’s fascinated. Rukia by no account considers herself a foodie, but the thought of blending traditional Japanese dishes with Mexican spices and turning them into something like sukiyaki tacos makes her stomach growl.

“Can I get you something other than water to drink?”

Her gaze flickers from the menu to the well-toned arm extended out toward her, pouring a glass of water. Her eyes move up the arm to the man it’s attached to.

A handsome guy, she’ll admit: if it wasn’t for the obviously bleached orange hair, the sword tattoo on his forearm peeking out from under his rolled sleeve, and the fact that he looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

If she had to pick him out from a crowd, there’s no doubt she’d know him as a bartender. What a walking cliche.

“Yes, I’ll take--” She didn’t even take a glance at the drink menu. She looks down quickly. “Sorry. Can I get a matcha mojito?”

He nods, his hands suddenly flying through liquors and shakers and mixes to make her drink. “You ready for food, too?”

“Any recommendations?”

“Everything.”

She snorts. She’d be irritated by the subpar service if it wasn’t for his small smirk at her response.

“Seriously, everything’s good here. If you get something you don’t like, drinks are on me.”

“Risky.” Rukia lifted an eyebrow. “You place that bet with every customer?”

“Every single one.”

She highly doubts that, but she appreciates the trust in his workplace nonetheless. She orders a couple of small plates, and he tends to his other drink orders while she sips her own.

The food, when it comes out, is… Infuriatingly good. Infuriating because she would have loved to have scored a couple free drinks off the arrogant punk bartender, but she’ll have to swallow her pride because the sukiyaki taco is absolute divinity. She sips her second drink, already accepting that she’s gonna have to admit to him she’ll be paying full price for everything she ordered.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like she’ll have a chance to gloat. From what she hears next door, dinner service has picked up and with that: drink orders. He’s doing as well as he can--hands expertly flying through the liquors, garnishing the cocktails with an expert flourish before passing them on to a server--but she can tell he’s feeling the stress, particularly when he reads his second to last ticket in the rush.

“Fuck,” she hears as he rolls his eyes, stalking over to the wine cabinet. A server comes by, concerned.

“You need anything, Ichigo?”

He waves a hand, not turning to look at his coworker. “No, no I’m fine. Just annoying when I don't open a bottle before rush, that’s all.”

The server scuttles off to tend to her tables while Rukia watches him bang a (very expensive looking) wine bottle on the counter, clumsily ripping into the foil with an opener. At one point he cuts his thumb, and he half-hazardly wraps a paper napkin around it while he tries helplessly to pull the cork up. The wine opener doesn’t grip the bottle steadily a couple of times, she waits on baited breath to see if he’ll break the bottle. After a few dangerous-looking test runs, he manages to hoist the cork up, cursing out a “fucking finally” at the sound of the cork popping.

The whole thing must have taken ten minutes.

Maybe it’s the matcha mojitos finally hitting her, but she can’t help it. She laughs.

He shoots her a wild look and she covers her chuckles with the back of her hand.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not--it’s not funny. I just… That was the most atrocious opening of a wine bottle I’ve ever seen.”

Ichigo stares for a moment before scoffing, turning back to his (finally opened) bottle and pours the wine into a glass. “Yeah, well… I don’t do wine service here, lady.”

“Excuse me? That’s ridiculous. You’re a bartender.”

“Exactly. Bartender. I do cocktails, not fancy wine stuff.”

“Let me guess, you consider yourself a mixologist.”

“Don’t ever call me that. Ever.” He’s shaking his head as he moves on to his next order, but oddly enough Rukia feels like she knows he’s suddenly having a good time. “Like I said, I don’t do wine etiquette and all that. That’s for the servers.”

“I’m just… It’s hard to believe you’ve made it this far in a nicer restaurant’s bar without knowing how to open wine.”

“Not that far. I’ve been here for like, six months.” He shrugs at her inquisitive stare. “Old buddies with the chef. I bar backed in college where he was a line cook, so… And if he ever got sick of me, my sister is his sous chef. Then again, she’s more likely to fire me than he is, the brat.”

“Especially with you not knowing how to open a fine vintage.”

“Get over it. When it’s not busy I get one of the servers to help me.” He looks down, having seemingly forgotten about his paper toweled thumb. “Shit. Hang on, I gotta get a bandaid from the back--”

“I have some, if you want.” Rukia starts digging through her purse. “If there’s not some restaurant code for the kind of bandage you’re supposed to use, of course.”

“If it looks neater than a shoddy paper towel job, ‘should be fine. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Here.”

He stares at her outstretched hand. She stares back, getting more irritated as she waits.

“What?”

“... It’s a Chappy bandaid.”

“So?”

“So why are you a grown ass woman carrying around Chappy bandaids?”

“They’re for my patients, for kids.” She’s telling the truth, technically. To say she also quite enjoys Chappy as a character does not need to be mentioned. “Do you want it or not? Swallow your manly pride or go looking for an ugly beige bandage while your tickets pile up again. Tick tock.”

“Fine! All right, already.” He takes the bandaid and starts unpeeling the paper adhesive. “You a pediatrician or something?”

“Child psychologist.” Suddenly Rukia remembers Hina’s sweet face and feels terrible for not thinking about her once this entire dinner.

“Jesus.” Ichigo’s shaking his head, pressing Chappy to his cut.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fact that it’s such a weird response to her revealing her profession, but Rukia can’t help it. She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

If he’s uncomfortable with her sudden hostility, he doesn’t show it. He shrugs. “It’s just… I can imagine it’s a hard job. Sometimes, anyway.”

Oh.

“Oh,” she exhales. “I’m sorry, I--yes. It can be, yes.I just… That sort of response I’ve only ever gotten from people that don’t believe in the importance of mental health. ‘Shrink talk’ and what have you.”

“Nah, I believe it.” He’s finished his job of covering his wound and moved on to his next drink order.

She’s abashedly stirring the ice in her glass when she barely hears him say: “I had to go to a children’s therapist once, as a kid. Helped me a lot.”

She raises her head to look at him. He hasn’t changed his facial expression, nor is there any change to his body language as he continues to do his job--but as a psychologist, Rukia can’t help but wonder whether she’s the first person he’s ever told this to.

“Me too. When I was a child, I… A therapist had helped me, too.” She raises her glass and clears her throat. “To recognizing childhood trauma, I suppose.”

He lets out a short laugh at the sudden dark joke, a sound so quick and so… So nice she can’t stop the fleeting thought that it’s a sound she’d like to hear more of. She shoves it away.

Bartenders are absolutely off limits.

He raises the glass that he’s mixing a cocktail in. “Yeah. Cheers.”

Later when she finally picks up the check, she pauses.

“Excuse me.” She waves Ichigo down, maybe just a tad tipsy. “You got the check wrong.”

He frowns, taking the bill from her and scanning it. “What are you…”

“You forgot to put a drink on there. My third one.”

It clicks and he rolls his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

“It’s on me.” He slides the receipt back to her.

“But I didn’t dislike any of the dishes!”

“Take some advice, will you Doc? If the restaurant staff didn’t put something on your bill and you still got it, chances are: we wanted to give it to you.” They lock eyes for an intense moment before he clears his throat, looks down to wipe his (suspiciously clean) bar. “‘To childhood trauma,’ and all that. Now stop yapping so loud about it. You want everyone in the restaurant to hear about me giving out free stuff?”

She shuts her mouth at that, but one small detail about what he said is bothering her.

“It’s not ‘Doc,’ so you know. I have a name. It’s Rukia. Rukia Kuchiki.”

“Okay. Whatever, Rukia.” He turns around and waves his hand. “And I’m Ichigo. Just pay your damn bill and come back soon or whatever.”

And with that: she guesses she has a new spot.

#bleach #ichiruki #irmonth2021 #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #my stuff #may or may not be multi chapter if I'm being reeeal #but this was fun so maybe

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

sukirichi’s 2.4k milestone event

weee another milestone and nooo i couldn’t wait for 2.5k because i’m so excited and happy, thank you so much! ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ including HAIKYUU this time around yeeeee! also i don’t have a restaurant aesthetic anymore, just kind of goofing around now! REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

before you request...

please read about my writings first! it will include the stuff i write and don’t write about. i’m more flexible in nsfw works, so if you really want to try for a kink, just send me in and if the idea is up to my liking, we’ll see how it goes!

please be patient and nice! if i don’t like the tone of your request or if you’re ‘demanding’ me, aka, “hey, write this for me, this concept...” your ask will immediately be deleted!

no requesting of the same idea to other writers please!

please keep in mind i don’t do too much canon-heavy plots, aka really specific canon events and how they lead up to one another. i don’t read the manga for both jjk and haikyuu ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ

I do not do headcanons anymore. I’m not good at them LMAO.

i feel a lot more laid back in my writings now, so i’ll only be taking requests that i want to write for! the accepted requests will be listed down below as i organize them

you may refer to my first milestone event if you want more ideas for AU requests! you no longer need to include the numbers/spices/ingredients format used in that. just send whatever idea you want ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU. whichever idea i love the MOST will be turned into a series just because I want to try new things hehe!

— characters i can write anything for (nsfw & sfw)

: gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, fushiguro toji, choso, ryoumen sukuna, nanami kento

: suna rintarou, kageyama tobio, tsukishima kei, miya twins, kita shinsuke, oikawa tooru, ushijima wakatoshi, bokuto koutarou, akaashi keiji, tetsuro kuroo

— characters i can only write sfw for

: itadori yuuji, inumaki toge, okkotsu yuuta

: kenma kozume

— characters i’m MOST eager to write simp for

: fushiguro megumi, choso, naoya zenin, ryoumen sukuna, gojo satoru

: suna rintarou, kageyama tobio, kita shinsuke, oikawa tooru, akaashi keiji

accepted requests: (only accepting the ones that interest me for now!)

favorites marked as ⭐

RYOUMEN SUKUNA: hello love!! i know it LITERALLY just came out but would you consider a pt 2 or a drabble for sweet lies? where megumi either catches her and sukuna or she genuinely starts moving on uasdfghj i'm convinced that megumi heard her fucking sukuna in the bathroom <3 anyways pls feel free to ignore me too

RYOUMEN SUKUNA: Ma’am , i beg of u ,,, spare husband! sukuna x wife! reader drabble. I just read your arranged marriage AU and lordddd i’m obsessed. How long did it take for him to take her virginity 😳? i’m so curious as to how that went down read here: black magic [02]

⭐⭐ RYOUMEN SUKUNA: Yooooo how about Rockstar Sukuna seducing his manager ehehehehe~

⭐ RYOUMEN SUKUNA: Ok but... pirate captain Sukuna 👀👀👀 I’m havin some Thots ngl 🥵🤤 I can’t decide whether reader should be the first mate and they’re a kickass Power Couple 💪😎or if she should be a stowaway who gets found out and has to pay for her passage with her body 😩😉

OKKOTSU YUTA: We both be weak for yuuta and toge😩 congrats 2.4k btw. so i'll request that for the event! poly!yuuta and toge. i see that you only write sfw for them so fluff. u can think of anything you want for it..and yes we simp for both of them i love them sm🤧

⭐ OKKOTSU YUTA: Hi saw that your request are open and congrats for the 2.4k !! 🎊 if possible can i please request yuuta having a girlfriend that's his childhood friend? (So like instead of rika it's y/n and she doesn't die) that loves to dote on him cause that boy needs some love. Thank you!! <3 | kiss me more

⭐ OKKOTSU YUTA: Hi can i request a scenario in which inumaki and okkotsu gets hit with a curse(?) That makes them a clone but the clone is a kid and seeing their gf taking care of the baby please thank youuu

INUMAKI TOGE: Toge's S/O being so sad that even when he says "smile" it doesn't work( also saw that in TikTok)

⭐ INUMAKI TOGE: Hi can i request a scenario in which inumaki and okkotsu gets hit with a curse(?) That makes them a clone but the clone is a kid and seeing their gf taking care of the baby please thank youuu

INUMAKI TOGE: We both be weak for yuuta and toge😩 congrats 2.4k btw. so i'll request that for the event! poly!yuuta and toge. i see that you only write sfw for them so fluff. u can think of anything you want for it..and yes we simp for both of them i love them sm🤧

⭐ INUMAKI TOGE: Hi! Congrats on 2.4k!!🤩 For the event, may I request an au where reader is Yuuta's sister? Can be gn/fem reader anything is fine. And they fall in love with Toge? Fluff fluff fluff please🥺Maybe they meet one day when she went to visit the school? Or she's a new sorcerer. Aahhhh I can't think of anything so I'll leave it up to your wonderful mind😌 Thank you! And again congrats! | crush

INUMAKI TOGE: SUKI OMG SIREN AU WITH TOGE AND DEAF READERHis voice hypnotizes all who hear it but she’s unaffected and he’s shook lmao 😂 She teaches him human sign language so they can communicate 🥺 maybe when he realizes he likes her he brings her seashells and other shiny things from the sea floor and it’s so cute 🥰 just 🥺🥺 siren Toge 🥺🥺🥺 (DEBATING)

GOJO SATORU: Hello dear Suki! 🤗 congrats on your more than deserved milestone 👏🏼🥳 I know it’s not the restaurant aesthetic anymore but still, thank you for being a Michelin-star chef spoiling the fandom with your food 🤤👀 I’d love to request the following: ingredient 66 with sugar 8 & 9 and Gojou as cherry on top 🥰 some heavy angst with a happy / smutty ending. additional 🍪 for inspiration - „Best friends don’t look at each other the way you look at her. You never know what will happen, tomorrow might be too late“. Have a lovely day dear 💕

GOJO SATORU: Congrats on 2.4K!!!! May I please request a fic where the reader has like. Zero reaction to Gojo? And he’s kinda shook bc people either adore him or hate him, but here’s reader acting like he’s just a normal dude. And he starts falling for her bc he’s never experienced that before

⭐ GOJO SATORU: a reader that likes Gojo but immediately says N O P E bc they clock that he’s at risk of breaking their heart so they just try to avoid getting close to him despite being a teacher stuck with him a lot of the time. And Gojo is just like ??? But I like you??? Why are you always avoiding me? “I’m tired of you acting like I can’t commit to something. Committing to you is easy.”

⭐ GOJO SATORU: ♡Soft nsfw scenario with s/o and gojo while outside is snowing read here: cold

⭐ GOJO SATORU: Ohoho~ another milestone! Congrats~Can I get Vampire!Satoru x Monster Hunter!Reader where he “proves” to her that all of his victims came willingly(I think from the AU choice you’ll know exactly who I am lol 😉)

⭐ GOJO SATORU: hello! first and foremost, congratulations on reaching 2.4k! i love your writing and its just oh my goodness <3 your stories made my heart squeezed! second of all, i'd like to propose a request for a story. fluff/angst (up to you! your way of writing is just superb) mixed with nsfw gojo satoru. a modern business tycoon au where he just lost his wife and is overprotective of his 1 year old toddler. you're his new staff in the office and is treated badly bcs you know, new staff. one day, you stumbled upon your boss and his baby in a shop, who wont stop crying and he took an interest in you when you managed to calm his kid down. he hired you as his babysitter + made you move into his estate. from there, your life changed! also, thank you for accompanying my days with your stories, it's marvelous! 💕

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ NAOYA ZENIN MY BAE: okay i thought you might like this idea for the event (or maybe not lol) - naoya coming home to his beloved little housewife and feels like giving her a treat for being such a good girl.,,.,, read: man's gonna re-arrange your guts and have some soft moments with you after (not that he would ever admit that shsghshsj) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ | good girl

NAOYA ZENIN MY BAE: Stage magician Naoya and his cute little assistant, where every other trick works to undress or strategically rip her outfit so he can show off his little bunny to the crowd before fucking her brainless backstage

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ NAOYA ZENIN MY BAE: listen ,,,,, ur naoya hate fic goes crazy stupid may i add something. naoya being overprotective like reader is so pretty and many of the clan men look at them a lottttt and naoya out of nowhere will kiss you in front of them or will grab them in front the maids and workers. then reader becomes mad and they get into an argument and then hate fuck :D lmaoo (THIS REQUEST PLEASEEEE SEND ME TO HEAVEN) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ NAOYA ZENIN MY BAE: Omg Suki! Congrats on the 2.4k! So uhmm I decided to take a break from the Kita/Naoya twin au angst 👉👈 idk if you are still accepting requests but HAS ANYONE EVER MENTIONED OR HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED SUGAR DADDY NAOYA????? 🥺 -🌸

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI: Megumi being insecure about his eyes because they are a very light green colour( like in manga) so he wears blue contacts( I saw that on TikTok and... big brain energy)

⭐ FUSHIGURO MEGUMI: SUKI, HI! First of all, congrats on 2.4K you absolutely deserve every single milestone coming your way 💞💞If it’s not too much to ask may I request a one-shot with megumi where he’s jealous that his fem!crush is spending more time with Itadori and sees how she enjoys his company a lot but it’s purely platonic? Reader likes megumi too and they both need that push in the right direction?Thanks so much if you decide to write this 🥺💖 I seriously love your writing and your big brain sm

CHOSO: Could you write something with Choso and the reader that has a toxic mother (if that actually exists. She controls everything the reader does, and plays with her mind/ feelings making her feel like she's the bad one)?But after a fight with the mom, the reader has enough and just leaves deciding they will finally do what they want, ending up at a tattoo shop, where Choso is the tattoo artist.Ngl, i'd like this to be nsfw because i am thirsting for this man ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)Don't really have kink preferences but if you could include size and breeding kink then i'd be hella thankful ☺

GETOU SUGURU: Yo how about a Victorian AU with Gentleman Thief!Getou and Debutante!Reader nsfw 👀👀 maybe she hears something in the dark and goes to investigate and gets pressed to the wall with a knife at her throat 👀🥵

FUSHIGURO TOJI: can we get a part two of the "lessons learned" toji fic 👉🏽👈🏽 maybe him fucking and overstimulating her so hard she cries and begs for mercy but no mercy will be given. maybe he uses the same handcuffs she used for him on her 🥰 maybe some manhandling cause im a hoe for letting a man throw me around

⭐ KAGEYAMA TOBIO (fckin finally): kageyama tobio x reader fic for mutual virginity loss? maybe they just haven’t had time with him being a fancy schmancy volleyball player, maybe there’s just nerves, i don’t know! i’ll leave it up to u babe <3

⭐ SUNA RINTARO: hi!! congrats on the 2.4k HEHE just wanted to request a suna and tattoo/flower shop au? idk just the thought of tattooed suna is like. mm yes

⭐ SUNA RINTARO/AKAASHI KEIJI: hi suki!! i’m so excited for your event! so i rarely ever see someone else who loves both akaashi and suna so i was wondering if you could write something for them! maybe apocalypse au?? or roommate au?? i was thinking y/n could have a relationship/be fuck buddies with one of them and some smutty exhibitionism happens with the other watching, and then some pining that ends in a threesome if you write those! if not, then just a smutty n filthy little love triangle that you can choose an ending for lol (a happy one would be nice bc my heart can only handle so much angst, but really it’s up to you and what inspires you!!) tysm for doing this event and always working so hard <3

⭐ OIKAWA TOORU: hi i love your writing!! can i please request work au (boss oikawa x secretary fem reader?) with degradation and him fucking your in the window 😭💗💗

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu #gojo satoru #fushiguro megumi #ryoumen sukuna #uhh im lazy #to tag #THANK YOU FOR THE MILESTONE <3 #sukirichi #suki: 2.4k milestone event

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ravensbug · 3 years

Note

hi so i can came from another tumblr user and i wanted to ask if maybe you could do a lin x pregnant!reader? i completely understand if you’re not comfortable with that, because the other user wasn’t but i just wanted to ask. thank you!

Little One

Fandom: Legend of Korra

Ship: Lin Beifong x Pregnant!reader

Request: Yes

Prompt: No

Word Count: 1277

A/N: Ok, first off I am SO SORRY this took so long. This semester has given me an even bigger workload and then more stuff has started happening that’s just stressing me out. Totally am not trying to recall my mother’s stories about how her pregnancies were with my sister and me. I didn’t really know I needed this version of Lin in my life until now. Don’t know if this exactly what you were looking for, but I hope it is.

Summary: You’re in the last week of your pregnancy and you’re due any day now. Lin has been staying home with you for months, not even going to the station at this point. But of course, the one time she does go, you go to the hospital because of the baby. Thankfully everything goes the way it should and Lin arrives right after.

Lin had gotten Kya to come over to the house so you weren’t left alone. You told Lin that you would have been fine by yourself, but you knew having Kya there wasn’t a bad idea. You were due anytime in these next few days and having someone with you in case something happened is smart. Of course, Lin hadn’t left your side for the past 3 months.

You were surprised that Lin Beifong, the woman who was practically married to her job, hadn’t gone into the precinct in 3 months. It was flattering, but you knew the amount of work she would have to deal with when she got back. Even with Saikhan running things in her absence.

Lin hadn’t told you the reason she had to go out today, or how long she would be gone. You assumed it might be some time since she had Kya come over. However, Lin always wanted someone with you at all times. Like she didn’t say it 20 times a day anyways.

“I really shouldn’t worry about why she’s gone out, but I can’t help it.” You walked around and sat down on the couch carefully. You had grabbed a snack, even though Kya had offered to grab it for you.

“It’s reasonable why you worry, but she’s fine. I’m pretty sure she’s more worried about you than herself at this point.” Kya reassured you.

“Kya, like she’s ever worried about herself? That woman literally gave her bending away to protect the last airbenders and didn’t want an ounce of respect from it.”

“Selflessness. The main definition of your wife,” Kya playfully rolled her eyes.

“Yeah. Sometimes I love her for it, sometimes I hate her for it,” you sighed.

“At least you don’t have to add being her healer to all of that. I wouldn’t know how you two would be together if you were.”

“I’m very persuasive, Kya,” you smirked. She laughed in response, but she knew it was true. Lin’s told her a few stories while being healed.

You two continued talking and you snacked while Kya talked. It was nice to talk to someone different although you would never get tired while talking with Lin. You would let her go on endless rants about work or things she liked. She would apologize, but you loved it when she would talk about something so passionately, even if she was upset.

Kya was in the middle of explaining something to you when you felt an awkward sensation. It felt like a pop and you didn’t know why it happened. That was until a few seconds after.

“Kya….” you interrupted her.

Kya didn’t need to say anything when she looked and saw the expression on your face. You both knew your water had just broke.

“Right, ok. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

“What about Lin? She doesn’t even know. What if she gets home and we’re not here?”

“I’ll make sure that someone finds her. Right now I just need you to worry about yourself and the baby. Not so much the baby, that’s more of my job.”

Lin knows you would scold her for going to the station when you were due any day, but she really couldn’t handle not being there anymore. Even if it was just to check in on things. However, checking in on things soon turned into her actually doing some paperwork.

“Chief, you should really be home with your wife. This paperwork can be done by someone else.” Saikhan was standing in front of her desk as she was working on a simple paper.

“Just this last one and I’ll be out of your way Saikhan,” Lin argued.

“Lin, your wife is due any day. Go home.” He waited for Lin to finish writing whatever sentence she was on and took the paper from her.

“Fine. But you better get that done correctly.” She stood up to leave the precinct. As she grabbed her coat one of the officers open the door with a face full of mixed emotions.

“What is it?” Lin and Saikhan responded at the same time.

“Cheif, your wife,” he had to pause to catch his breath. “She’s gone into labor.”

Most of the senior officers hadn’t seen Lin run out of that building so fast since the last time someone had tried to kidnap you. Even then, some thought Lin was moving even faster now.

Lin had promised herself she wouldn’t go speeding to the hospital if this had happened, but she wanted to so badly. She definitely cursed at the spirits for doing this to her because thoughts of things that could go wrong while she wasn’t with you were running rampant in her mind.

It had taken her almost half an hour to get to the hospital. She also cursed at whoever designed the city that way.

Lin practically barged into the main entrance and everyone looked her way. She wasn’t mad, she would never be mad about this happening, but most assumed that she was since they didn’t know her like you did.

She took a deep breath before asking the desk nurse where you were.

“She’s in room 204.” The nurse pointed down the hall. “Oh, Chief Beifong! They’re fine, just go in quietly.” That information was enough for Lin to put it all together and she smiled.

“Thank you.” She turned and started walking towards the room you were in. She had the widest grin on her face and she felt so giddy and excited.

When she turned the corner and got closer to your room she willed herself to calm her nerves. The nurse had said to be quiet when entering and she had a few guesses as to why.

The door to your room was slightly ajar, enough for Lin to see the edge of the bed as well as your feet under the blankets. She quietly knocked on the door before opening it more.

Kya stood up out of the chair she was sitting in at the sound of Lin knocking. You and she looked over at Lin, who had this wide grin on her face.

“Told you someone would tell her. Didn’t take too long for her to get here.” Kya smiled. She made her way out of the room to give you two privacy.

The baby was currently asleep in your arms so you couldn’t really move. You also didn’t want to move because you were still sore.

“You can come over here and look at her y’know,” you smiled.

“Her?” Lin asked but she didn’t need you to elaborate. Both of you didn’t want to know the gender of the baby because it could get out before it was born and then there would be expectations and press everywhere.

Lin walked over and finally got to see the baby’s face. Her daughter’s face. She was so beautiful and innocent. Lin said she hated little children and even babies, but right now there wasn’t a single bit of hatred. How could she hate anything right now?

“Did you decide on a name? I know you were still looking at a few for a girl,” Lin asked.

“Yeah, I did actually. Kya and I talked a little about it. She’s got plenty of experience helping narrow down names.”

“What did she help you pick?” Lin asked.

“I settled on Keena.” Lin smiled at your answer. That was one of the ones she had liked the most, but she chose to leave the naming to you.

“Perfect,” Lin smiled. “I love you both so much.” Lin gave you a kiss and lightly kissed Keena on the forehead.

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shuttymcshutfuck · 3 years

Text

So deeply hurt

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker/Sasha James (polycule)

Type: Hurt/comfort

Word count: 2,039

TW: crying, hiding pain, fever, internalised ableism

A03 link

Now that he was closer Jon could tell it was a bad day. He could see the tension in Tim’s jaw, the way he swayed ever so slightly when he stood before righting himself, the fake smile he’s plastered on.

or: Tim's having flare up so they have a movie night.

Set vaguely in S1 or S2 but Sasha doesn't get not!them-ed.

As much as Tim joked around and slacked off, he was very rarely late. Especially not almost two hours late. Jon tried to relax as much as possible but with the concerned glances from Martin and Sasha every few minutes through the window in his door and the constant ticking of the clock in his office it was getting harder by the minute. But he had to stay professional, Elias couldn’t know about their relationship. Jon wasn’t ashamed in the slightest, he just didn’t want to get them all fired. Although, that didnt mean he hadn't sent off quite a few messages to him. All of which were unanswered. He was typing another when he heard a voice curse at the top of the stairs. Trying to look as casual as possible but presumably failing miserably, Jon grabbed his cane and rushed to the bottom of the stairs.

“Tim?” Through the fluorescent lights he could barely make out Tim sitting at the top of the stairs, crutches lying next to him. “Do you need a hand?” He tried to keep the worry out of his voice. They’d all agreed that none of them would make a big deal if Jon or Tim were using their aids. He wanted to respect that as best he could since he knew how bad it felt when people would keep pointing it out.

“Ah, no need. I got this!” Jon watched as Tim slowly slid himself and his crutches down each step before using them to stand. Now that he was closer Jon could tell it was a bad day. He could see the tension in Tim’s jaw, the way he swayed ever so slightly when he stood before righting himself, the fake smile he’s plastered on.

“Well, that was one way to do that. I’m sure Martin or Sasha would’ve been able to help.”

“Na, it’s alright. This building’s just inaccessible as shit. I doubt we would’ve been able to all fit together on those weird ass stairs anyway.”

“Well since you’re here now, there’s a statement on your desk I’d like you to look into after you’ve finished compiling the research from yesterday.” Putting his professionalism on as much as he could, Jon went back to his office leaving Tim to get settled at his desk. He shot Martin a quick text to keep an eye on him and tried his best to continue with his work.

Recording a few statements helped distract him for a bit even if he knew that they were all fake. Floating lights, a ‘disappearing’ man and walkie talkie feedback that sounded like words. It wasn’t long until a knock at his door brought him back to the present. “Come in.”

“Hey,” Martin, of course. “I’m going to the breakroom to make myself a cuppa, do you want one?” Jon never understood why Martin always lowered himself when he entered a room. It was like he was trying to take up the least amount of space possible.

“Yes, thank you. I’ll come along, I need to stretch my legs anyway.” Perfect, a completely professional reason to talk to him in relative privacy. “How has he been?” Jon set his cane beside him as he sat at the breakroom table, watching Martin go through the practiced motions of making tea.

“I’m not sure, he looks a bit peaky but he seems alright.” It was days like these that Jon struggled with boundaries the four of them had set. He knows that if Tim needs help, he’ll ask for it. But he also knows how stubborn you can become when you’re in pain, how frustrating it can be, how hard it is to ask for help. “In other news, I was thinking of having a movie night at mine tonight? Tim and Sasha are down, fancy it?” Jon brought himself back, this is something he could do. Something that would help.

“That sounds lovely but why don’t we have it at mine?” Jon took the cup Martin handed him and sipped, perfect as always.

“Uh, sure.” Martin looked a bit hesitant, probably because Jon usually doesn’t offer up his flat if Martin’s already offered. They all know Jon prefers their flats to his because then he can kidnap a jumper or cardigan to feel safer once he has to leave.

“It’s just, my flat’s closer and I think it’s best for Tim and I since there’s a lift.” He wasn’t lying persay, the lift would be better for the two of them but that wasn’t the only reason. He had supplies for bad days at his house. Heat pads, painkillers, ice packs, you name it. And he knew Tim was going to need it. He’d crash soon enough, most likely when they were all finally settled at Jon’s, so he needed to be able to help once Tim let them.

“Oh right, of course. Sounds great, I’ll let them know.”

-----

It wasn’t long until Tim popped into Jon’s office, struggling with the door slightly. “I’ve got that research for you, Boss.” Jon gestured to one of the seats in front of his desk which Tim took quickly. He pulled the file from his bag once he sat down and had his hands free again.

“Tim, I- um. Is there anything i can do?” Jon tried to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to sound patronising.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” So he was still in the stubborn stage, great. “I’m all set for the last hour work wise if that’s what you’re asking.” He stood and Jon could see him hide a wince.

“Okay, I’ll let you get on then. Thank you again for the research.” All Jon got in return was a nod before Tim was out the door as fast as he could be.

-----

The journey to Jon’s flat was nice for once, mostly due to Sasha driving them all instead of having to take the tube. But even just sitting mostly in silence it was comfortable. As soon as they were in his flat he wandered off to get changed into comfier clothes, urging them all to do the same. Once they were all back in the living room he spotted Tim in a familiar jumper, specifically the one Jon was looking for as it was nice and cosy but he left it with Tim. He looked like he needed it more than he did.

Stocked up with snacks and tea, bundled up in Jon’s duvet that he’d asked Martin to bring through, movie night began. After finishing La La Land per Sasha’s request and Howl’s Moving Castle per Martin’s request they decided to order some takeout.

“Tim, do you just want your usual?” Sasha was over at the table, notepad in hand with everyone's orders but his. The only answer she got however was a groan. Jon gently moved him off of his shoulder where he had been resting his head and it was only then he felt the heat coming off Tim’s skin.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Can you wake up for a minute for me please?” Jon watched him blink slowly and he swore he had fallen in love with him all over again.

“Is he alright?” Martin moved the duvet off of their laps and knelt at the feet of Jon and Tim. “Love, you’ve got a bit, uh-” Martin's gaze fell to Jon’s shoulder and when he followed he saw what Martin was clearly holding back a laugh at. Tim had drooled over his shirt.

“Martin, can you go into the cabinet in the kitchen, grab some painkillers, water and the thermometer for me please?” Martin’s face dropped so Jon rushed to calm him. “He’s okay, I think it's just a flare up. Take a breath, Love.” Jon watched him do as asked and head over to the kitchen. “Sasha, just order him his usual as long as it’s not too spicy.”

“Gotcha, I’ll be back in a minute.” She placed a kiss on Jon’s cheek then Tim’s, frowning slightly at the heat before heading to the bedroom to order.

“So, how are you really feeling? All of it, okay?” Jon kept his voice low and soft, channeling all the times Martin had calmed him down from a nightmare, all the times Sasha had comforted when the knock on his office door sounded too familiar, all the times Tim had helped him home once everyone had left because the pain was so bad.

"I'm alright, just being a drama queen as usual." Jon watched as Tim’s eyes filled with tears.

" Tim ." It seemed that Jon had finally chipped at his stubborn exterior just enough to let Tim breathe.

“I…Awful, it just hurts and I’m so tired, I don’t-” Jon pulled him into a hug as he finally let the tears fall, running a hand up and down Tim’s back while the other cradled his head.

“It’s okay, it's okay.” They sat there, Jon whispered sweet nothings until Tim’s sobs had calmed enough that he could speak “What hurts, Love?”

“Everything but my hips hurt the worst. It’s like they’re shooting pain down the rest of my legs.” Tim pulled back slightly and Jon let him, wiping away Tim’s tears with his thumb.

“Got them Jon, but if it’s a flare up then why do we need the thermometer?” Martin’s eyes flickered over Tim’s face and Jon could tell he was holding back his mother-hen instincts. He trusted Jon and it made his chest warm to think that he trusted Jon enough to let him lead.

“I’m just hot stuff, what can I say?” The joke made them both smile, breaking some of the tension.

“Sometimes during flare ups you can get low grade fevers, I just want to make sure it’s not too high.” Jon explained as Martin kneeled back at their feet.

“Alright, okay.”

“Martin, it’s okay.” Jon reached out and took his hand, the worry practically radiating off of him.

“I know, I’ve just never been around either of you when you’ve had a flare up before and-” Jon’s eyes fell to his lap, guilt slowly seeping into his bones. He could tell Tim felt the same, squeezing his hand slightly before interrupting Martin. “You have actually, as much as I don’t want to admit it, we are relatively good at hiding them. Which isn’t necessarily a good thing.”

Martin looked to Jon and he nodded. “Right. Well, we can talk about that later.”

“Okay.” He turned to Tim. “Is it alright if i take your temperature, love?” Jon was pretty sure that he would say yes but it was still good to ask, to make sure Tim was comfortable.

“Yeah, alright.” Martin handed him the thermometer and Jon put it in his ear, waiting for the beep before taking it out again and doing it to the other ear.

“Hmm, 38.1 and 38.3. Not bad but still could be better. Let’s get some painkillers and water into you. Sasha’s ordering food just now so you’ll have that soon too.” Tim took them without issues but seemed uncomfortable when Jon mentioned dinner.

“I’m really not hungry just now.”

“Nausea or just no appetite?” Jon didn’t want to force him to eat if he felt nauseous but he needed some form of food in him if he was going to take more painkillers.

“Appetite.” Good, that’s something at least. Something he can work with.

“Why don’t you try some food and if you don’t want what we’ve ordered I’ll make you some toast?” As much as he hated that Tim was in so much pain it felt nice knowing what to do for once. Pain was something he was familiar with, something he knew so much about that it was instinct to him now.

“Alright.” Jon stood up and motioned for him to move along the couch slightly and he complied. He got them situated so Tim was lying down with his head on Jon’s chest and legs over Martin’s lap. He felt Tim curl into him and sigh contentedly. “Jon?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” Jon ran his fingers through Tim’s hair, watching as his eyes started to shut again.

“Of course, love. You know I’m always here.”

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonathan sims #cane user jon #tim stoker #tim stoker uses crutches #martin blackwood #sasha james #s1 polycule #jonmartimsasha #my writing

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