#Can anyone be more clueless?
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okay i'm still very awake so you're all gonna have to deal with me red-stringing about character bullshit until i fall asleep. i Know i'm making a big post about this but i don't care
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why. this is the first instance of mark being designated as the one in charge when a higher-up (fred, in this case) isn't present. but why. they were only trapped in the slipspace fuckeryzone for a few days relative to normal space-time and i don't think anything drastic happens (with these guys) in glasslands? at least according to the wiki it doesn't. why did being integrated into blue team suddenly disrupt team saber's former command structure?
did they plan to kill mark off at the very start of this? was this all a long game to give mark enough of a foothold as an Important Character to make his death have more impact? does troy denning just like him more? how much weight did his personal preferences even play in this? why do the gammas suddenly start bantering when they're in danger and alone with a woman they just met? why do mark and ash seem to switch personalities every other chapter? why is this worse than i remember it being when i first read it a few months ago?
#this is only partially shitposting#the more i flip back and forth between all these books the weirder it gets#i know i'm reading too far into what's probably trivial nonsense#but boy oh boy do i want to make it make sense#also. there's a one-braincell quota for every denning novel#and only one character is allowed to have it at a time#listen. they're not Bad to read#they're mostly fun if you overlook the fact that highly-intelligent spartans#would PROBABLY not be clueless about the basics of forensic procedure#i don't even mind that mark is the one in charge in this era of novels#i like mark#but i want the Why#and i want to see the Why on ash's side of it too#tbh the boring answer is just. everyone agreed this was an acceptable direction#for the characters to go. and that was that#i mean halo canon continuity is a mess already given everyone who's contributed#but. gestures helplessly#ash reads halo#ash goes fucking insane reading halo#that should be the tag for these#can anyone tell what kind of day i've had?#can anyone hear me#halo#halo books#gamma company#mark g313#book: last light#character analysis hell tag#essay reference tag
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i am FINALLY making bracelets *\(^-^)/*
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#ignore picture quality! enjoy bracelets! hell yeah!#there’s 2 more bracelets and a necklace too :D#if anyone has ideas for what i can write on a bracelet let me know i’m clueless :(#i made a song one but#idk what else to do#i need word and colour combos ;-;#if anyone has ideas lmk!#(i will *absolutely* make and wear url ones if anyone wants their url on a random british girl’s wrist <3)
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I know that how much Phoenix suspected Kristoph is very vague and I like the idea he had very little clue but honestly the thing that makes me think he did is Trucy. Because I think there is absolutely no way Kristoph didn't want her dead. He tried to kill vera, child murder isn't above him. And Trucy was a far far bigger weak chain in his scheme than she was but she escapes him basically unscathed other than minus one parent, who lets be real was canonically a POS who tried to kill a woman over a poker game. She saw him give her the diary page. She has psychic lie defecting abilities and he is constantly lying. She's absolutely the biggest direct threat to his scheme.
I feel like if Phoenix genuinely trusted Kristoph he would have absolutely had the opportunity to kill her and tie up that loose end. Trucy's savvy and able to protect herself but she's also a child. It is a miracle she's still alive by AA4 and I think that has to be because Phoenix was protecting her because he knew he couldn't trust Kristoph around her.
#ace attorney#phoenix wright#kristoph gavin#trucy wright#aa4#Apollo Justice ace attorney#7yg#also i do just kind of prefer the idea of that this was a battle Phoenix knew he was fighting every day and knew he would probably lose#thats a more enjoyable angst for me#and it kind of makes a bit more sense for why he cut everyone off and isolated himself#like he knew that he was in the lions den and didn't want anyone else in there with him woth the exception of trucy who was inndanger anyway#and he knew he was the only one who understood this battle enough to protect her#but alternative explanations can include a krisnix one where kristoph genuinely didn't want to hurt Phoenix's daughter#but honestly my krisnix take is that he would because that man is possessive as fuck and wouldn't want Phoenix giving his attention to her#or it could be that Phoenix is clueless and trucy isnt and shes the one actually fighting the battle and protecting him#but thats also very very sad and i don't want to do that to her#maybe theyre both protecting the other but refusing to tell each other because they dont want to put the other in danger#that would be in character as fuck for the wrights#trucy fully in a ya adventure we cant tell our parents about the unspeakable horrors because then they'll get hurt#while Phoenix is trying desperately to just keep them both alive but doesn't want to put that burden on a literal child#idk i do genuinely just think its way way sadder if Kristoph is a known threat through most of the 7yg#but they know they cants pull away from him even as he poses a direct threat to them because that makes him even more dangerous#beanix
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I've just realised that when my mother dies, I'll be the oldest person in our family (as in, the people who are related to me who I'm in contact with/ever see at all). that's.... weird
#my sister-in-law is a few years older than me but she's also only in her thirties#and obviously not related to me#my dad's dead. my uncle's dead. my only grandma who I was close to is dead. we're not in contact with anyone else anymore.#the only other person I'd even know how to find is my cousin#that feels really weird. I'm not an adult. I'm completely clueless. I have no idea what I'm doing ever.#and still my mother only thinks about how hard it is for *her* that everyone her age has died... sorry but you don't think it might be hard#for us too? more than one person can be affected by that but sure you're the only one who is.#and her own mother died when my mother was 50! she had contact with all her extended family until then and she chose not to after that! so#she's the one who caused that but still we need to feel sorry for her.#anyway#maybe she'll live to be super old. that'd be typical... but it doesn't seem likely#idk. it's not like it'll make a difference. she's never helped me with anything so it'll be one less thing to deal with...#maybe I'll finally feel free then#or maybe it's too late for that#personal
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also quite the illustration in wags being like "'not asking permission' - wags" and plowing through someone expressing a physical boundary but he was already intending to use physical violence & violation & assumed corresponding distress as a tool to get his way....amidst the typicality, "correctness," permissibility of all that around here like five times an hour
#winston billions#and in all ways like the [oh well but at least it's Not That Bad(tm)] / some theoretical peak lasting physical harm....not that relevant#not unlike how billions didn't need to put all that effort into supposedly not yet going ''yeah prince is the worst ofc'' in s6#like oh he repeatedly took advantage of someone (not a cis man) he's ceo of; early 20s/abt the age of his kids so he could have sex#but then we have to be going ''oh but well at least it's Not That Bad'' like yeah wow & that doesn't matter That Much / make it That Good#it's all operating on the same logic & principles & that is the issue; there'll always be some theoretical worse instance....#and what's it do for what's deemed [worse instances] to then just use that against ''lesser'' instances#rian out here apparently w/no idea abt power but also somehow aware she has to assert Fault for it herself thinking emoticon#but also rian being clueless / continuing not to think abt shit at all / maybe thinking fucking an old man makes her Mature is all like#more stuff that doesn't quite coalesce into anything consistent & instead is all incompletely gestured at as some Explanation Aggregate#sorry i've noticed that this is a leaking bag of gravel labeled ''rian'' and not a character#anyways. and wendy Would do aba & ppl Do already give the organic aba & it's abusive. check the ''not abt ppl's wellbeing'' & the ppl who#get to be In Charge of anyone else & the ''corrected'' ppl Not getting to be treated as people#rian's treatment of winston....all the Aggressive behavior only allowed to Some & that serves to get those people's ways#all the demeaning treatment directed at ppl so that someone can try using them as a stepstool for their feelings / ego#&/or simply to try to get their [being a person] to stop being a roadblock to their existence aligning w/only what you want from them#next episode sure could be about how Actually This Place Is Horrible For Its Own Employees; it has been; it'll continue to be....#like a great time to deal with that. if wendy wants to consider if she's actually not doing anything Good here then like time for that too#might convince everyone else to (a) not quit for their own sakes & maybe even also (b) see wendy to make her feel better. again.#but maybe we still lose winston as the guy who (a) gets to peace out & (b) is just having one of the more miserable times over there#taylor's busier; sometimes in englander; no tmc niche; not close enough to tuk to chat; dollar bill's here; rian won't let him speak....#and whether taylor Themself being unable to convince winston to return gets them thinking abt things & stuff. not like they've been unaware#at all of this Environment being hostile & miserable lol but nobody just kind of matter of factly wanders out w/o Basically being pushed...#& it's been a minute since they were a fellow nonboss employee. & maybe Winston quitting just shakes up assumptions & then why not question#more things & like; even if they suppose they're fine enough for Now & Could be happy w/a billion or their own place or something like#maybe you too can just walk out you can leave w/o having been forced to some Crisis Breaking Point about it#and not spend years more at the sunk cost factory of more problems worse times etc etc....a concept#&/or idk maybe also just pondering like oh also the way people here or anywhere are negatively affected even if you werent paying attention#this is all still operating off the one theory though of course#but also the actual text of this post needs no further canon info or context to be True / about what it is lmao. wags die challenge
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this is probably going to be my new workplace's opinion on me given the way I am handling my name and how I am getting addressed.
guy who is not necessarily nonbinary but also not NOT nonbinary. guy who doesnt fit into the binary-nonbinary binary. if you will
#welly talks#i have two names you see and they are both technically legally mine and i've gotten one group of people to call me one whilst not removing#the more conventional option for outsiders#and because they are both technically legally mine they aren't sure if it is just preference or if it's gender stuff but jokes on them i'm#not sure either#and the wonderful hr person onboarding me is for def. trying to gracefully sus out if i am trans and out so she can update stuff if i don't#want my more effeminite name to be used but i am being so unhelpful in my indecisiveness#for ref - i am#agender#and i am not actually going to tell anyone that unless it comes up because i am for def. wearing skirts and i don't want to have the#'why are you dressing girly but not?' convo with well meaning but gently clueless work buddies unless i have to
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Activism is not cold-calling.
Activism is not cold-calling, and this is critically important to understand.
I'm seeing a lot of posts on here about 'building bridges' and 'finding community,' and then (extremely valid) response posts saying "BUT HOW??" And I'm going to explain something that can be very counter-intuitive: there is strategy involved in community.
As a longtime volunteer labour organizer, I’ve taken and taught many trainings on the strategy of talking. Something that surprises a lot of people is the very first thing you do in a union campaign. You sit down with your organizing committee, take out pen and paper, and literally map it out. You draw a physical map of the workplace: where are the entrances, exits, break rooms, supervisor offices. Essentially, ‘where is it safe to have a union conversation.’ Then you draw another physical chart of your coworkers. You sort out who is union-friendly, openly hostile to unions, or somewhere in the middle, and then you plan out very deliberately and carefully who talks to whom and in what order.
Consider: If Vocally Leftist Jane walks up to Conservative David and says "hey what do you think about unions," David is going to shut down immediately. He's not inclined to listen to Jane. But if Jane talks to Moderate Jason and brings him into the fold, then Jason is a far more effective strategic choice to talk to David, and David may actually hear him out without an instant reaction.
IMPORTANT CAVEAT: If Conservative David turns out to be Alt-Right David, and could be dangerous to follow organizers, we write him off. We are not trying to reach Alt-Right David. We are trying to reach Conservative David, who may actually be persuaded to find solidarity with other employees as fellow workers. Jason is a safe scout to find out which one he is. It does no one any good if Leftist Jane (or even Moderate Jane who is a visible minority) talks to Alt-Right David and puts herself on his radar. Not only has she done nothing to convince Alt-Right David to join a union - she's probably actively turned him against the idea - but now she's also in danger and the entire campaign is at risk. NOBODY WANTS THIS. Jane was NOT a hero for doing this. The organizing committee was foolish and enacted a terrible strategy to everyone's detriment.
Where you can make a difference is with people who will listen to you. You having a conversation with your well-meaning but clueless Centrist Democrat Auntie, and maybe gently helping her understand some things the media has been glossing over, is way more strategically useful than you marching up to MAGA Neighbour You've Met Once and trying to "build community" or "understand" them. They don't care. They're impervious, dangerous, and cruel. But maybe your beloved auntie will think about what you said, and then talk to her friend Anna who IDs as "fiscally conservative" but didn't vote because she can't bring herself to get on board with Trump. Then perhaps Anna talks to her brother Nic who has MAGA leanings but isn't all the way there yet. Proto-MAGA Nic would not have listened to you, nor would he have listened to Centrist Democrat Auntie, but he might absorb some of what his sister is saying.
This is not a cop-out or an echo chamber. This is you spending your time and energy strategically and safely. You are not a useful activist to anyone if you’re dead. Anyone who is telling you to hurl yourself directly at MAGA assholes like cannon fodder has no understanding of the strategy behind community building, and you should feel comfortable writing them off.
Last point: If you are tired, emotionally devastated, and/or in danger: take a break. This post is for people who would feel better jumping into action, not for people who are too overwhelmed to even think about it right now. You are worth so much even if you’re not actively Doing Activism, and your rest is worth more than “a break period so you can recharge and Do More Activism.” We all deserve the individual dignity of being worthy of comfort, rest & safety just on the basis of being human, outside of whatever we're doing for others' benefit. To deny ourselves that dignity is to devalue ourselves, and that’s the absolute last thing any of us should be doing right now.
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licherally how it feels to read the deconstruction of a story and everyone speaking so eloquently about character motivations and the way they act and talk and the whys of that and the bunch of details that lead to those conclusions meanwhile i can barely scrape a personality for my ocs
#reblogging a bunch of d:bh posts on my sideblog and realizing just how little i know of it compared to everyone else#and things in general. ngl i feel dumb! and embarassed! im stupid as shit man!#how am i supposed to have ocs if i cant even read a character any deeper than superficial things#well i guess i can read like a Smidge under the surface bc im not those people who see connor as a clueless bimbo or whatever#but like damn. i know so little about things.. and im so conflicted too.. like.#theres this sort of manic personality that always worms its way onto the personality of my ocs and they all feel too similar#but it also helps that i Still havent managed to write a world that i like either. it really doesnt help! people are a product of their>#>reality! and its like Wow. i really have fucking nothing to go off of huh. sigh...#i know its impossible to know how bad the writing is bc i didnt post or chat about it but. i feel like im trying to bite more thani can che#man i think i finally found the anti-hobby. i think i really lack everything you need to make good characters/worlds/stories#like knowing different people/diff perspectives. having watched/read other stories to learn from. i lack it all!#so much of what i want to do falls back into boring magic tropes. i think if anyone ever sees my vision im gonna be shot for being pathetic#^that someone is probably me as well but thats besides the point#dextxt#but also funny part of getting into d:bh and the fan-readings is that it helped to realize how bad the writing is lol#its not.. it doesnt seem to be terrible. but there are many flaws. and there are smarter people than me pointing them out all the time#like damn! if even so many games cant make a good story what is a nobody like me even gonna do! girl help im dying here!!
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What they do while you get ready (Scenario)
TF-141 as your boyfriends
Simon "Ghost" Riley who's the type of boyfriend to love watching you do your makeup, your hair rolled up in the curlers while you finish up putting on some lip gloss. You'd look back once in a while to see him staring intently. He definitely plans more date nights out where he knows you like the food. Adores it when you leave kiss marks but would grunt and try to hide it, you know he loves it, he can never hide the slight lifting of the corner of his eyes. He doesn't have the heart to wipe it off unless you tell him to. His heart warms up whenever he sees an elder couple, hoping that one day, that would be you two.
John Price who's the type of boyfriend to be absolutely clueless about makeup but is extremely competent when you ask him to get something. He's a little ashamed to be asking the salesladies for anything the first time but would grow accustomed and finds that it makes it much easier. Genuinely loves buying things he thinks would look good on you and see you try it on. Like Ghost, he likes it when you leave lipstick marks, specifically in darker colors that pop against the skin of his neck. Doesn't care if his knees would give out, he'd help you put on your heels, kissing your knee before he does.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick who is the type of boyfriend to hype you up, he has a sassy mouth so expect him to give you the biggest hype anyone can ever do. He's also a go-with-the-flow kind of lover, he wasn't into skincare but was into a little haircare before you but now whenever you do your skincare, he joins in. The type of man to tease and laugh at you for wearing a clay mask then sulk if you put it on him too. He kisses you even if you whine and say you just put on lipgloss, promising to buy you more if you let him kiss off the rest. He helps you style your hair especially if you curly it.
John "Soap" MacTavish who is the type of boyfriend to be going in completely blind when it comes to anything that's on your vanity, but the thing is, he's willing to learn and hear you so passionately talk about what oxidizing is, cool and warm tone and other things you've said. He has this sketchbook dedicated only to sketches and art of you, his muse. He finds himself making them while you're doing your makeup, a peaceful pastime while his girl is dolling up. His favorite sketch of you was you with hair curlers messily clipped up in your hair while you put the last touch of lipgloss on your lips.
A/n: Hello my loves, guess who's back? 😉
Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @callsignsnowpunisher @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @duck-a-doodle @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @poohkie90 @drewsmusee @aleixis @yveevie
#cod x reader#aethelwyne lia writes#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#cod headcanons#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost x you#141 x reader#task force 141 x reader#price x reader#141 x you#soap x you#john soap mctavish x reader#kyle gaz x you#kyle gaz garrick x you#gaz x reader#john price x reader#captain price x you#price x you#john soap mctavish x you#john soap x reader#kyle garrick x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x plus size reader#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 scenarios#tf141 x you#john price x plus size reader#soap x reader
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# “I BETTER WATCH MY FIVE FOOT TWO MOUTH? FIRST OF ALL” ── .✦ ( batboys w a short!reader ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )
dollish note ⋆౨ৎ: as a girl who’s about 5’10-5’11 I might’ve fucked this up but we shall have hope and trustt && also I have about like a lot of inbox requests I need to get too so that’s that but this is in honor of my pookie @cup-of-doodles 🙂↕️ tags: (batboys x reader)
© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )
DICK GRAYSON ── .✦
"Fun-sized? More like FUN-UNSTOPPABLE."
Dick lives for the height difference. He’ll 100% rest his elbow on your head like you’re his personal armrest until you glare at him, and suddenly he’s apologizing with puppy eyes.
Picks you up constantly. Not always for a reason. Sometimes you’re just walking next to him and boom you’re airborne.
“Dick, what the hell put me down?!”
Jokes about getting you a “baby seat” for his car. You respond by threatening to hack the GPS and set it to only play the most annoying sound on loop.
When you try to kiss him and can’t reach, he dramatically gasps, crouches down, and says, “My bad, m’lady. How rude of me to be so tall.”
JASON TODD ── .✦
“Half my size, double the trouble.”
At first, he doesn’t comment on your height. Then one day, you can’t reach the top shelf, and he LOSES it.
“You want me to install a ladder here? Or...should I just carry you around on my shoulder?”
Loves how perfectly you fit into his side when he throws an arm around you. Calls you “pocket-sized rage” when you’re mad.
Teases you relentlessly but deadass threatens anyone who tries to make fun of you.
One time you tried to push him out of the way during an argument and he didn’t budge. You almost fell before he caught you but looked up at him, and he just went, “Gravity’s a bitch, huh?” “JASON PE-“
TIM DRAKE ── .✦
“Do you think if I put you in a hoodie, people would mistake you for a sack?”
Will absentmindedly hand you his coffee cup from the top shelf without realizing you can’t reach it.
You: “Tim, can you help?”
Tim, turning around: “Oh-oh my God, I’m so sorry.” (Immediately grabs it for you and then spends five minutes apologizing.)
You once climbed onto the counter to grab snacks and he caught you mid-typing something on his laptop. Stood there like: “Should I help or see how far you get?”
He finds it absolutely adorable when you wear his oversized hoodies. They drown you, and he’s obsessed.
DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦
“Tt. You are…compact. Efficient for battle.”
At first, he acted like your height was irrelevant. Then he caught you glaring at a shelf that was too high, and he silently handed you the item. No comment. But his smirk? Loud.
Calls you “miniature” during arguments. You kicked him in the shin once for it.
LOVES how easy it is to pick you up and physically move you when you’re in his way. You tried to fight back the first time but realized it was easier to just vibe.
Secretly thinks you’re the cutest thing on the planet but will deny it forever. The only time he slipped was when you fell asleep curled up on his lap, and he whispered, “You’re like a kitten.”, “What?” *cue damian acting clueless like huh?👁️👄👁️*
#jason todd#jason todd x reader#batboys#dick grayson#dc#dick grayson x reader#red hood x reader#red hood#nightwing x reader#nightwing#nightwing imagine#nightwing headcanon#jason todd headcanon#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson headcanon#red hood imagine#red hood headcanon#tim drake x reader#tim drake#tim drake imagine#tim drake headcanon#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne#damian al ghul x reader#damian al ghul#red robin headcanon#red robin x reader#red robin#dc x reader#robin x reader
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You try to find Bucky a date but he only has eyes for you
a/n: playful Bucky and "clueless" reader are my new fave
word count: ~800
warnings: fun fluff, teeny bit angst
・゚✫* 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 。✭・゚
“Do you have any preferences for a partner?” You sat next to Bucky on the sofa in the common room, determined to find the perfect date for him upon request from Sam.
“Well, I’m very particular when it comes to my type.” Bucky clasped his hands in his lap as he eyed you opening your notes app. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of dating anyone. Well, anyone that wasn’t you to be clear. There was a reason he’d yet to ask anyone out since working here. The same reason he chose to entertain your attempt to set him up. He liked spending time with you.
“Particular is good. More details mean I can find the perfect person for you.” You beamed at him and Bucky cursed under his breath when his heart did the somersault thing.
Then he decided to shrug it off. “If you think so.”
Seemingly nonchalant, he watched you prepare some bullet points on your phone, itching to reach out and smack the thing from your grasp so you could hold his hand instead.
“I am the perfect matchmaker, Bucky. You should be glad I’m helping you. The amount of feedback I’m given for my relationship expertise is unmatched.”
“Think I should check your references, doll,” Bucky smirked. “Cause you never once went on a date since I’ve been here.”
You stared at him blankly and Bucky took the opportunity to look at your lips. And just as he suspected, they looked perfectly kissable today.
“Coaches don’t play, Bucky.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, making Bucky chuckle.
“Okay now, favorite hair color?”
“I do enjoy a nice y/h/c,” Bucky answered immediately. He knew you’d not let this go, so he might as well play into it. He knew exactly who his type was, so the questions shouldn’t be too hard.
“Preferred height?” You typed away and Bucky stood and held up his hand to the spot he knew your head ended when you stood next to him. “Abooooout this tall.”
You glanced at him swiftly, nodding and typing the info like a machine. Bucky chuckled again. You were so invested, he could probably say your name as his preferred one in a partner and you’d write it down without question.
“Perfect eye color?”
“Y/e/c.” You froze in your tracks for a second and then you proceeded to type.
“Wait,” Bucky said, grabbing your face with his metal hand and looking into your eyes with furrowed brows. “Y/e/c with those beautiful speck in ‘em. That’s what I like...”
He watched as your pupils switched between his and Bucky wondered if you’d finally caught on. He wasn’t trying to hide it, after all. However, all he got was another moment of intimate eye contact before your jaw slightly pressed against his hand with the next question tumbling out of you.
“Preferred occupation?” There was the hint of a smile on your lips, and Bucky couldn’t have missed it. Maybe you were even wittier than he thought you to be.
“Hmmm....” He tabbed his chin now embracing the game you’d invited him into. “I’d die for a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.” He let go of your face. “Maybe an avenger even - I think that would be perfect for me.”
Bucky turned back slightly, now watching you out of the corner of his eye, heart hammering in his chest yet again. Your fingers typed furiously on that phone of yours and his hand began to sweat. It was fun while it lasted, now he’d have to go back to serious.
“Bucky-“ his heart dropped when you whispered his name as you watched your notes. But then you put your phone down and grabbed his hands. God, this was worse. You’d let him down easy - somehow he wanted you to be clueless again. “I think I may have the perfect candidate for you.”
That’s when he finally found the courage to look at you again. Firstly at your hands which were gently wrapped around his and then your face, where big eyes were watching him from below.
His chest deflated when he saw the unreadable expression in your eyes. “You don’t have to-“
Bucky didn’t get to finish his sentence because warm pillowy lips were pressed to his and catapulted him into a state of utter shock and disbelief. After a few seconds of freeze mode, your fingers squeezed his gently, as a reminder that this was truly happening. And before any more time could have gone to waste, Bucky’s arms wrapped around you with an urgency that had settled deep in his bones. Maybe you weren’t so clueless after all...
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#m shorts#bucky barnes drabble#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes imagine#winter soldier imagine#winter soldier fluff#james bucky barnes#the winter soldier#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan imagine#bucky x y/n#bucky fluff#bucky x you
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chapter 7: the rebound a bridgerton au
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pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader
summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?
warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, description of injury, concussion, blood, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly
chapter summary ⸺ after the arrival of your dearest brother, you pursue a new angle to the season, one to prove that you, the diamond, will not be scorned. new opportunities with duke nanami arise and with it jealousy and bitterness fester in the ballroom. (6.8k)
prev. the house party | next. the lake
general masterlist | series masterlist
Once again, dear Reader, this humble Author finds herself vindicated. Country house parties, as ever, remain the fertile soil from which the most delicious scandals bloom. And today’s revelation is no exception.
Yes, indeed, you read it here first: the dashing and ever-elusive Lord Satoru Gojo will not be marrying Miss Itadori, this season’s most celebrated diamond. The murmurs have already begun spreading like wildfire, bringing sighs of relief from hopeful ladies and knowing smirks from their watchful chaperones. The eligible Duke-to-be’s sudden return to certified bachelorhood is, no doubt, a development many find most agreeable.
But what, pray, has caused this sudden turn of events? The dissolution of an arrangement so seemingly perfect? Alas, even this Author—a tireless seeker of truths—has found the particulars elusive. Was it a clash of personalities? A misstep at the ball? Or perhaps, a secret grievance unearthed during those long, candlelit evenings at the country estate?
What this Author can confirm is that the ballroom whispers point to Lord Gojo’s own doing, based upon the countenances and actions of the pair at the ball. Did the ever-charming lord tire of his diamond’s sparkle, or has he found a more alluring treasure elsewhere? The possibilities are endless, and so, it seems, is the intrigue surrounding the pair.
One thing remains certain: while Miss Itadori may have stumbled in this engagement, she remains a diamond among gems—brilliant, resilient, and admired. What paths now await her are anyone’s guess, but if this Author knows anything, it is that diamonds shine brightest under pressure.
As for Lord Gojo, the question lingers: will his rakish reputation survive this latest scandal unscathed? Or has he, at last, met a match too dazzling even for him to outshine? Rest assured, dear Reader, this Author will remain ever-vigilant, pen poised and ready to uncover the truth.
⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS
You could have had a bit more tact when informing Sukuna of the events of the past few days, for the reaction you gained made you realize that you may have made a misstep.
“What?!” Sukuna roared, looking at the three of you with fury. Yuji jumped, while you and Choso grimaced. “He did what?!”
“Now, now, brother,” Choso stood up nervously to pat his younger brother on the shoulder. “It is all good and well, for I have arranged for a better match for our dear sister—”
“A duel!” Sukuna bellowed, standing up from his seat on the couch to stomp his way to the door. “I will challenge that Gojo fellow to a duel—” It was only until Yuji ran and tackled him to the ground that he was waylaid to God knows what he was going to do to Lord Gojo. You and Choso could only watch the scene, too perforce to the strength of bulls that your brothers had to be able to interrupt.
A few scratches and awfully purple looking bruises later, Sukuna and Yuji were seated on the couch once again, thanks to Choso’s plead for nonviolence. It was then that Choso started explaining what had occurred in the season so far. “Mother insisted,” he sighed, shaking his head. “She seemed to have struck a mutual…entente with the Duchess of Gojo. It was only a matter of time before Mother forced her ways. Now that it has not redound in her favor, I have even more rationale to have my…way with Sister’s matches. For God’s sake, Sukuna stop glaring at me Mother left me behind on the first ball—”
Sukuna did not stop glaring; in fact, he chose that moment to take a long slurp of his tea while staring fiercely at him while Choso shifted nervously. After a long bout of silence, he finally offered, “I understand Mother can be very pushy, and that you, Choso, are not fierce enough to withstand her.” Choso did not even protest, just offered a deadpan. “But I, however, will not be a feather to a simple blow of the wind that Mother is. It is time our dear sister lived up to her reputation, what she has prepared so hard for.” He looks upon you with a soft gaze—that is, a soft gaze for Sukuna. “No matter how tactless Gojo’s estrangement was, Sister will recover, so long as her morale has not lessened. Sukuna’s head turned sharply to you, “It has not weakened, right Sister? He has not left you heartbroken?”
You could hear your heart as you looked at your brother, dumbfounded. His perceptive gaze disarmed you, but you blurted out a “Of course not” and turned to hastily grab a pastry from the table next to the loveseat you were seated at.. When you looked back at your brother, you jumped as his gaze lingered on you then nonetheless turned to glare at your brother when Yuji opened his mouth, undoubtedly ready to irritatedly remark on his denseness.
No matter, you think to yourself. Whatever you feel about Gojo is of no matter. The visit at the manor was only a delay and a small obstacle for your season. It was time to attend to the matter at hand: finding a husband.
The dewy grass kissed the hem of your nightgown as you wandered to the old swing set on the far edge of the manor grounds—a relic of your childhood, weathered but enduring. The creak of the chains was a sound that had long since embedded itself in your memory, a reminder of simpler days when duty had yet to tighten its grip.
You had not been able to sleep.
The house was still, the hush of midnight settling over its grand halls and sprawling grounds. Yet sleep evaded you, your thoughts as restless as the autumn breeze that stirred the curtains of your chamber. In the quiet, the weight of your obligations pressed heavily upon you, a familiar but unwelcome companion. Deciding that solitude under the stars might grant clarity where the confines of your room could not, you slipped on a shawl and had ventured outside.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the quiet, low and teasing. He was seated on a swing with his big frame illustrating a comical sight on the small seat. His silhouette was faintly illuminated by the dim glow of his cigarillo, and the faint ember cast fleeting shadows across his sharp features, making his smirk all the more pronounced.
The unexpected sight of him startled you for a moment, though you quickly masked your surprise. You drew your shawl tighter around your shoulders, the chill of the night settling into your skin, and stepped closer. “And here I thought I was the only one who sought refuge in our old playground at such an hour,” you replied lightly, though your voice carried the faint weight of sleeplessness. “What brings you here?”
He took a long, deliberate drag from the cigarillo before discarding it into the damp grass, the embers hissing softly as they extinguished. Straightening, he gestured to the empty swing beside him. “Thinking,” he said simply. “And you? Or do I even need to ask?”
You hesitated for only a moment before lowering yourself onto the swing, your fingers grazing the cold chains as you pushed back slightly. The seat creaked beneath your weight, swaying gently with your movements. The motion stirred a familiar ache of nostalgia—a reminder of days when life felt less complicated. “What else could it be but the endless circus of expectations Mother has so kindly bestowed upon me?”
The bitterness in your tone was impossible to conceal, and Sukuna chuckled darkly. He reached up to push a hand through his disheveled hair, his movements purposeful, almost theatrical. “Ah, yes,” he said mockingly. “The marriage parade. The grand auctioning of one’s life for the sake of the family name. What a fine role you’ve been cast in, dear sister. I don’t envy you.”
You gave a dry laugh, your voice quiet yet tinged with resolve. “Unfortunately, dear brother,” you began, staring into the star-dappled sky, “it is my duty to be wed.”
Sukuna turned to you sharply, his brow furrowing. “It is not your duty, least of all when it robs you of your freedom.”
A protest began to form on his lips, but you held up a hand, your expression soft yet resolute. “Let me finish,” you said, your tone firm but affectionate. Taking a deep breath, you continued, “If I were to grow old into a spinster, there would be no one to take care of me. You and Yuji would inherit our lands and manors, and Choso is the viscount; there would be no space for me except with some of our aunts.”
At the mention of your aunts, both of you shuddered involuntarily. The thought of their overbearing presence, their sharp tongues and endless criticisms, was enough to unite even the most quarrelsome of siblings.
“You cannot take care of me forever,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the ground. The swing swayed faintly as you spoke, the motion as restless as your thoughts. “One day, you—or any of our brothers—might choose to start a family with someone you love. It would be intrusive of me to remain dependent on you all.”
Sukuna scoffed, his voice rising slightly with indignation. “You know better than anyone that I aim to travel the world. I cannot be chained to a family or a manor—not now, not ever.”
You turned to him, your eyes softening as you regarded his familiar fire, the same defiance that had always set him apart from the others. “Sukuna,” you said gently, your voice tinged with fondness, “you may do as you please, and I would never wish to impede you. But I cannot rely on you indefinitely. You deserve to live freely, to make your own choices without the burden of my future weighing on your conscience.”
Once again, silence enveloped you both, broken only by the faint creak of the swings and the rustle of the wind through the trees. Then, Sukuna eventually broke the quiet with a heavy sigh. “Then we must make sure to do well and find you a husband on your terms.”
You turned to him, brow arched in curiosity. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk, “that you must stop playing the part Mother has assigned you. Demure and meek may be what she wants, but it’s hardly the truth of you. Besides,” he added, leaning closer as if to share a conspiracy, “do you think the kind of husband you’d want would fall for such a facade?”
His words caught you off guard, and you frowned slightly. “Are you implying I’m to frighten potential suitors away?”
“Not frighten,” Sukuna corrected, his tone amused. “But consider this: if a man is drawn to meekness, might that not suggest he wishes to dominate or control? Would you truly wish to tether yourself to such a person? Or would you rather find someone who can appreciate your independence, who will meet you as an equal?”
His reasoning gave you pause. The image of a husband who might respect your will, who might value the sharpness of your mind and the strength of your character, was tempting—if not entirely what you needed. “And how, pray tell, do you suggest I go about finding such a man?”
Sukuna’s grin widened. “Start by being yourself, unapologetically. Let them see the wit, the fire, the resolve that I know so well. Let them see you, and if they can’t handle it, then they aren’t worth your time.”
You smiled faintly, your heart lighter from his words. After all, this scheming was due on your part; you were only grateful this shift occurred with Sukuna as your humble advisor. “It’s a daring plan, brother. Let us hope it does not lead to my complete social ruin.”
Sukuna laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. “If it does, then you shall travel the world with me. Who needs societal approval when there’s an entire world to explore?”
For a moment, the weight of your burdens felt a little easier to bear. Under the vast, starlit sky, you allowed yourself to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a future where duty and happiness could coexist.
Despite the peace conversing with Sukuna had granted you, sleep evaded you still, leaving you to roll onto your side, the cool fabric of the pillow offering no solace. Your thoughts had been louder than ever these past weeks, and one name in particular echoed through your mind like a stubborn refrain: Gojo.
His face came unbidden, as vivid as if he were standing at the foot of your bed. That insufferable smirk, the casual way he tilted his head as if always in on some grand secret. He saw through you—that much was undeniable, no matter how much you abhorred it. It wasn’t just the way his piercing gaze seemed to cut through your defenses, stripping away the layers of pleasantries and propriety until you were left exposed. It was his words, too—sharp, direct, and unyielding. Unlike everyone else, he wasn’t content to let you be the demure and dutiful daughter your mother had so painstakingly sculpted.
You turned onto your back, staring up at the shadowed canopy above, the weight of his judgment pressing against your chest. “He wouldn’t want to marry me either,” you thought bitterly, biting your lip to suppress a laugh that was more self-deprecating than amused. Why would he? I am only but a pathological people-pleaser—a woman who smiles and nods and folds herself into whatever shape is required of her. It was a role you had perfected, a mask you wore so often that you sometimes forgot it wasn’t your face. And yet, he saw through it.
That was the part that unsettled you most—not his arrogance, not his sharp tongue, but his ability to cut through your defenses as though they were paper. He saw you, in all your contradictions and uncertainties, and somehow, you suspected that he pitied you for them. Or worse, respected you less for it.
Your stomach twisted at the thought, and you turned onto your other side, burying your face into the pillow. No wonder I’m still unmarried. The thought came unbidden, sharp and cruel. What man would want a wife who couldn’t even decide who she wanted to be?
But that wasn’t fair—not entirely. You had a plan, didn’t you? A bold, liberating plan that would take you far from the shadow of your mother’s expectations. You could already picture her face when you told her—calm, composed, and quietly furious, as though your refusal to obey were a personal affront. The thought brought the faintest flicker of satisfaction, but it was fleeting.
The plan wasn’t perfect, nor was it foolproof. It hinged on one pivotal point: finding a husband who could be an equal partner rather than a master. A man who could grant you the freedom to forge your own path in peace, without the constant weight of disapproval bearing down on you.
Your thoughts wandered to Duke Nanami. Equal in power to Gojo, fair-minded, and kind—a man with no appetite for games or artifice. If you manage to secure a match with him, the ton would not view your…blunder with Gojo with such amusement. Insofar your interactions this season, he had always treated you with quiet respect, never pressing you into conversations you didn’t wish to have or cornering you with expectations. He would be a good man to marry, you thought. A safe choice.
And yet, even as you considered him, Gojo’s face intruded once more, unwelcome and unavoidable. Duke Nanami was everything Gojo wasn’t—measured, steady, predictable. But it was Gojo who set your mind alight, who made you question things you had long accepted as unchangeable truths. He irritated you, challenged you, unnerved you in a way no one else did.
You sighed, turning again, the sheets tangling around your legs like restraints. The very fact that Gojo occupied your thoughts at all was infuriating. He had no place there, no right to linger in the quiet moments when you were supposed to find peace. And yet, here he was, as persistent in your mind as he was in person.
The plan. You needed to focus on the plan. Liberating yourself from your mother’s expectations wasn’t about Gojo or Duke Nanami or anyone else. It was about reclaiming yourself, about becoming a woman who didn’t need to twist herself into shapes for anyone—not your mother, not a potential husband, and certainly not Gojo.
And it would start at your wardrobe.
You give the most polite smile you can muster, but you do not need the mirror in front of you to know that your countenance is strained, the edges of your smile not reaching your eyes. “Lower it even further.”
A beat passes in the room as the modiste, your mother, and Sukuna stare at you in incredulity. The bustline to your dress is low. Of course, it is not yet teetering on the edge of what is socially acceptable, and that is the position you want it to be. Hence, you gesture to Sukuna, prompting him to regain his senses and snap his head towards Momo. “Please attend to my sister’s request.”
You could smell what you mother was about to say, even if she had not yet done so. “My dear,” she began, “I hardly think that’s appro–” Sukuna’s glares reorients itself now to focus on your mother, and she purses her lips with what appears to be arduous effort, knowing a quarrel with Sukuna would escalate quite quickly, both immediate and unwise.
Madame Momo, for the better, offers no protest as she lowers the deep, wine red fabric she was upholding against your body. If you were not wearing your regular clothes, you would know that quite a bit of the swell of your breasts would be framed by the dress. However, it wasn’t enough. “A bit lower.”
The modiste lets out a small sigh, her needle poised mid-air as she hesitates. “My lady, to lower it further would risk—” she pauses delicately, “—compromising the structural integrity of the gown.”
“I appreciate your insight, Madame, and know that you are quite skilled at your craft,” you flash her a semi-apologetic smile. After all, she is the one that has to attend to your…rebranding crisis and revamp a majority of your wardrobe. “However, I am afraid that I’d like to do something new this season. Something eye-catching.”
A faint chuckle escapes her lips, no doubt spurred on by the flattery. With a practiced hand, she adjusts the fabric once more, lowering it to the precise balance of scandalous and sophisticated. She steps back, her critical eye assessing her own handiwork. “Well, it will definitely be eye-catching.”
“Precisely.” You nod in approval, smoothing the line of the fabric with your fingers. “I believe Lady Whistledown,” you add, your voice tinged with knowing confidence, “will ensure that the modiste responsible for the diamond’s striking attire becomes the talk of the season.”
Momo’s lips twitch into a smile, and she dips her head in acknowledgment, already returning to her work with renewed purpose. Sukuna, standing to the side, folds his arms and smirks at the scene, clearly entertained by your audacity.
Your mother, meanwhile, remains silent, though her pursed lips betray her disapproval. Let her simmer, you think, satisfaction curling in your chest. This season is yours to command, and you will not be overlooked.
I cannot do this. I cannot I cannot I cannot I cann—
“Sister!” Sukuna called out. You regained your senses, snapping your head at once to look at him, who was holding out his hand. Swallowing, you grabbed it so he could assist you out of the carriage. What had you in a tizzy was the sheer amount of people. Yet again, you were attending your first party after the events in the countryside but this time without your mother and Yuuji. Not only had the people you were accompanied with changed, but also different attire. A red silk dress fell over your curves gracefully, the draping across your chest a bit lower than usual. It is the dress of your dreams—one that you would have worn if not for your mother and her beliefs regarding your image. Now, your clothing was still socially acceptable but nevertheless daring—exactly the image you wanted to present.
However, it was safe to say that after the events of the house party, venturing out in another—with so much of your chest exposed—had you nervous. Oh God, perhaps this wasn’t the brightest of my ideas— (a/n she’s just a girl :( )
“Presenting Miss Itadori, Mister Itadori, and the Right Honorable The Viscount Itadori!” As you were announced to the room, with your brothers linking arms on either side of you, you smiled—trying not to let the nerves show. At the sound of your name, the buzz of conversation faltered, dozens of heads turning toward you. You felt the weight of their gazes—sharp, judgmental, curious. You were certain half of them were eager to witness the fallout of Whistledown’s latest scandal, while the other half seemed transfixed by the boldness of your attire.
Your eyes flitted over the sea of faces as you moved through the room. There were gasps, poorly veiled whispers, and even a few widened eyes aimed at Sukuna, but what truly set your nerves alight was the attention fixed squarely on you. You resisted the urge to fidget, to adjust the neckline of your gown, to shrink under their scrutiny.
Then, amid the crowd, your gaze locked onto a familiar figure with a piercing stare—Suguru Geto.
He was lounging by the far wall, a glass of wine in hand, his dark eyes gleaming with mirth. An amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he shook his head, clearly entertained. Your heart stuttered, the heat rushing to your cheeks making your nerves spike further. Am I being mocked?
Before the thought could consume you, he raised his glass in a mock salute, a gesture of acknowledgment—perhaps even respect. He then nudged the man standing next to him, none other than Duke Nanami.
Your pulse quickened at the sight of the Duke, his composed demeanor a stark contrast to Geto’s casual amusement. The weight of Nanami’s steady, discerning gaze was one you weren’t prepared to meet—not tonight. In the periphery, you caught Geto slipping toward the courtyard, his laughter soft but audible as he disappeared into the night.
You tore your gaze away just in time, focusing straight ahead as you approached the Queen. Your shoulders stiffened, the intricate beading of your gown catching in the light. The murmurs grew fainter, the towering figure of Her Majesty now looming just ahead. With each step, your pulse thundered louder in your ears, but you kept your chin high, determined not to falter.
When you and your brothers reached the foot of the throne, you slipped your arms free from theirs and sank into the deepest curtsy you could manage. "Your Majesty," you murmured, lowering your head to avoid the weight of her gaze. The richness of the room—gold-trimmed drapes, towering portraits, and the hum of whispered conversations—did little to steady your nerves.
"Rise," the Queen commanded, her tone clipped and dismissive, the single word laced with impatience. You obeyed, your movements deliberate and slow, feeling the weight of every eye in the chamber on your shoulders. When you met her gaze, she was already appraising you, her sharp eyes scanning you from head to toe. Her scrutiny was clinical, and when she sighed audibly, it was clear her judgment was far from favorable.
“I have not been…pleased by the recent affairs, diamond,” the Queen began, her voice cold and detached, like a blade gliding through silk. A sniff punctuated her words, and the lump in your throat grew harder to swallow. “I fear this is a failure to the crown.”
The room seemed to tilt, your heartbeat quickening in your chest. The Queen’s disappointment carried a weight that could crush reputations, and yours was teetering precariously on the edge of her approval.
“However,” her tone shifted ever so slightly, and you found yourself snapping to attention, clinging to that single word like a lifeline. “Your recent change in…style is fitting.”
You blinked, unsure if you had heard her correctly. The Queen’s gaze lingered on the daring neckline of your gown, the rich red fabric catching the light in just the right way to emphasize its boldness. “You are not a simple and bland gem, Miss Itadori.” Her words were deliberate, measured, and the faintest hint of approval gleamed in her sharp eyes. “You are a diamond, and you must start to shine like it.”
For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. The Queen’s words were praise, yes, but they also carried an implicit warning: a diamond that failed to sparkle was of no use to anyone, least of all the crown.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you said, your voice steady but quiet, and you curtsied again, the fabric of your gown whispering against the marble floor. The Queen’s gaze swept over you once more before she turned her attention elsewhere, her dismissal unspoken but clear. As you rose again, Choso placed a reassuring hand on your elbow, a subtle anchor in the sea of your swirling thoughts.
A light, “You all are dismissed.”
The cool night air wrapped around Suguru Geto as he strolled into the courtyard, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path. The faint strains of the ballroom's orchestra followed him, muffled now by the grand walls of the manor. A slow, self-satisfied smile crept across his lips as he glanced up at the stars. The night felt ripe with possibility, though it was the scene he had just left that truly amused him.
He exhaled, letting the crisp air settle over him, before taking another measured step toward the fountain at the courtyard’s center. His fingers grazed the cool stone edge, the chill a welcome change from the warmth of the crowded ballroom. He savored the silence, only for it to be broken by the familiar sound of approaching footsteps.
“Geto,” a voice called out, casual but clipped.
Suguru turned slowly, almost lazily, as though he hadn’t already recognized the speaker. Gojo Satoru emerged from the shadows of the colonnade, his silver hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. He moved with his usual languid ease, though his sharp blue gaze belied his carefree demeanor.
“Well, well,” Suguru greeted, his tone light but edged with something sharp. “You’re out here. Don’t tell me you’ve finally tired of the fawning crowds?”
Gojo came to a stop a few paces away, crossing his arms as he leaned against one of the marble columns. “Needed some air. The room’s packed with too many people pretending to like each other.” His gaze flicked to Suguru, scrutinizing. “And you? Slipping out to avoid trouble, or cause it?”
Suguru chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a slow sip. “Oh, you wound me, Satoru. Can’t a man enjoy a moment of peace without being accused of scheming?”
“You?” Gojo raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Not a chance. So, what’s your angle this time?”
Suguru let the question hang, savoring the quiet tension between them. He set his glass down on the fountain’s edge, turning to fully face Gojo. His smirk widened as he finally spoke. “No angle. Just admiring the company tonight. Speaking of which…” He paused for dramatic effect, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. “Miss Itadori made quite the entrance.”
Gojo’s expression didn’t change immediately, but Suguru saw the faint flicker of something—irritation, maybe, or something more carefully hidden. Gojo’s mouth twitched into a scoff, though the sound was faint, almost perfunctory.
“What about her?” Gojo asked, his tone deliberately disinterested, but Suguru noted how his fingers flexed briefly before he shoved his hands into his pockets.
Suguru hummed thoughtfully, his gaze drifting toward the sky as if considering his next words carefully. “She looked… radiant tonight. Stunning, really. I can’t imagine half the room wasn’t staring. Though, I must say, some seemed more surprised than others.” His eyes darted back to Gojo, watching for a reaction.
Gojo rolled his eyes, though there was a tightness in his jaw that Suguru didn’t miss. “She’s just another debutante. Why would I care what she’s wearing?”
“Why indeed?” Suguru replied, his voice deceptively mild. He stepped closer, leaning against the fountain with an easy grace. “But it does make one wonder—what kind of man would care? Surely someone with a sharp eye for detail. Someone with… let’s say, a bustful interest.”
Gojo stiffened slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” Suguru tilted his head, studying Gojo with an intensity that bordered on playful. “Because I could swear you seemed a little distracted back there. And not by the Queen, mind you. Why did you leave as soon as the Itadoris were announced?”
“Drop it, Geto.” Gojo’s voice was sharper now, but there was an edge of unease beneath the command.
Suguru’s smirk deepened as he tried to fight the urge to snicker at his friend, but he let the moment linger, letting Gojo stew in his discomfort. He picked up his wine glass again, swirling the liquid idly before taking another slow sip. Finally, he straightened, his tone turning lighter, though no less pointed.
“Well, whatever it is—or isn’t—you’d better sort it out soon.” He started to walk past Gojo, his footsteps deliberately slow. Just as he passed, he paused, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in danger of losing your famously cool head.”
Gojo didn’t respond immediately, but Suguru didn’t need him to. The slight narrowing of his eyes, the subtle clench of his jaw—those were all the confirmation he needed for his plan.
Suguru chuckled softly, a sound more amused than mocking, and continued on his way, his voice drifting back over his shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of the night, Satoru. Something tells me it’s going to be… illuminating.”
Left alone, Gojo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he glared at the retreating figure. “Bastard,” he muttered under his breath, though his voice lacked fervor. Still, Suguru’s words lingered, circling his mind like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. He turned his gaze back toward the ballroom, his thoughts uncomfortably crowded with images of a certain young lady and the maddening smirk of a man who always seemed to know too much.
It appears that you and Duke Nanami have much in common, for you are able to hold a most pleasant conversation with him.
The din of the ballroom fades to a dull murmur as you stand near the refreshment table, your gaze politely fixed on the Duke. His presence is commanding yet unassuming—a rare quality that draws you in. Dressed in a deep navy coat that matches the intensity of his solemn eyes, he inclines his head slightly as he speaks, the weight of his words tempered by the gentleness in his tone.
The arrangement is perfect. You have successfully caught your target, much to the chagrin of ladies. After all, it was not all days that Duke Nanami took interest in a lady. You would have to credit Choso; he had researched that HIs Grace did not like overbearing mamas accompanying their girls—a most rational opinion. Posing fiery opinions without the presence of anyone except yourself, it seemed that you had hit the mark.
“I find, Miss Itadori,” he says, his voice smooth yet deliberate, “that many in our circles underestimate the joy of simple pursuits. They mistake extravagance for fulfillment.” He takes a measured sip from his glass, his gloved fingers resting lightly on its stem.
You nod, a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I could not agree more, Your Grace. There is a certain comfort in the unadorned pleasures of life. A good book, a quiet morning—these seem to me the most worthwhile indulgences.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up in what might pass as a rare smile. “Indeed. Though I daresay, quiet mornings are hard to come by when the season is in full swing.”
You let out a soft laugh, the sound almost swallowed by the music that swells across the room. “Quite so. I suppose we are all too busy chasing the next waltz or whispering about the latest Whistledown missive.”
At the mention of Whistledown, the Duke raises a brow, his expression a mixture of amusement and intrigue. “Ah, yes. Our ever-watchful chronicler. One wonders if she, too, finds time for quiet mornings.”
“I imagine she must,” you reply. “After all, how else would she craft such keen observations? A mind as sharp as hers surely requires moments of reflection.”
“Reflection, yes,” he murmurs, his gaze drifting briefly to the chandelier above, as if lost in thought. Then, returning his attention to you, he asks, “And what of you, Miss Itadori? Amidst the bustle, do you find moments to reflect?”
The question catches you off guard—not because it is intrusive, but because it is sincere. Few have ever asked you such things. You hesitate, then answer truthfully. “I try, Your Grace. Though I must admit, the season has left little room for it. It seems my every step is watched, my every word weighed. I sometimes wonder if I have forgotten how to simply be.”
His expression softens, and for a moment, you feel as though he truly sees you—not as the diamond of the season, not as the subject of idle gossip, but as a person. “That is a heavy burden to bear,” he says quietly. “Perhaps it is time you allowed yourself a reprieve. Even diamonds require care, lest they lose their brilliance.”
The words settle over you like a balm, and you find yourself holding his gaze longer than propriety might dictate. There is no judgment in his eyes, only understanding. It is both comforting and disarming. Before you can respond, a burst of laughter from a nearby group breaks the spell. You glance away, suddenly aware of your surroundings once more. “You are kind to say so, Your Grace,” you murmur, your voice steadier than you feel.
“I merely speak the truth, Miss Itadori,” he replies, bowing his head slightly.
A pause lingers between you, not uncomfortable but weighty with unspoken thoughts. Finally, he clears his throat, his tone lighter as he says, “Would you care to take a turn about the room? I find the air here grows rather stifling.”
You smile, grateful for the excuse to move. “I would like that very much.”
As he offers his arm, you place your hand lightly upon it, allowing him to guide you into the throng. The music swells once more, and though the room is as noisy and crowded as ever, the world feels a little quieter with Duke Nanami by your side. You can see it—early mornings with Nanami, enjoying gentle banter as he returned your thoughts without any ire, without snark or judgment. Quiet respect and gentle affection filling your days. A life free of chaos, where your worries dissipate into the steady calm of his demeanor. Perhaps this could be happiness. A steady, uncomplicated happiness.
But then you see him.
You abhor your traitorous heart for lurching ever so slightly at the sight of Gojo. He is standing near the edge of the ballroom, the golden light catching on his shock of silver hair as though it had been crafted to draw attention. His smile—always so bright, so effortless—makes the lady beside him laugh. She looks at him with a sultry, yet detached and amused expression, her fan flicking lazily as if to dismiss her own growing interest.
Your chest tightens. You know this scene well. It is one you have observed too many times, and yet you have never been able to steel yourself against the sting it brings. The way he leans ever so slightly toward the lady, as though she were the only person in the room. The way his laughter echoes, a sound full of mirth and mischief, as if he had no weight upon his shoulders.
You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. You tell yourself he doesn’t matter.
But then, as though he feels the weight of your gaze, Gojo turns his head. Your pulse quickens as his eyes widen, the usual lazy charm momentarily replaced by something sharper, something you can’t quite place.
First, his gaze lands on your face, his eyes sweeping over it with a quickness that feels like a jolt to your chest. Then, they drop lower, and you feel the heat of his scrutiny settle uncomfortably on your chest. A flicker of something crosses his expression—shock, perhaps, or something else entirely—but before you can decipher it, his gaze moves again, lower still, to where your hand rests upon the Duke’s arm.
It is subtle, the way his jaw tightens. The way his smile falters, only to return a moment later, forced and brittle. He shifts his weight, turning back toward the lady at his side, but not before you catch the way his fingers twitch at his side.
You force yourself to look away, to focus instead on Duke Nanami’s steady presence beside you. He has not noticed the exchange—or if he has, he is far too polite to show it.
And yet, the moment lingers. Gojo’s image burns in your mind like the fading glow of a candle, stubbornly refusing to extinguish. You loathe the way your heart betrays you, its treacherous rhythm quickened not by the Duke’s calm assurance, but by the mere sight of a man who has always been more trouble than he’s worth.
Nanami’s voice cuts through your tumultuous thoughts, soft and grounding. “You seem distracted, Miss Itadori,” he remarks, his gaze kind but curious.
You manage a small smile, tightening your grip on his arm as though it might anchor you. “Not at all, Your Grace. Perhaps just…overwhelmed by the crowd.”
He nods, accepting your answer without pressing further. “Understandable. These gatherings can be rather tiresome.”
“Yes,” you murmur, casting one last glance in Gojo’s direction before forcing your focus back to the Duke. “Tiresome indeed.”
But even as you walk beside Nanami, his presence a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the evening, you cannot help but feel the weight of Gojo’s lingering gaze, the memory of his startled expression etched into your thoughts like a brand. You cannot help but observe the situation. Tonight, you would be ending the night on Duke Nanami’s arm, and Gojo with another woman.
Is this not what you both wanted?
Today, it seems that the usual trio at White’s is only a duo. The blonde and raven head swirl their alcohol in their shimmering glasses while sharing a comfortable silence. That is, until one interrupts.
“How do we know we’re not simply toying with her?” The blonde man’s voice is steady but tinged with unease, his lips pressed into a thin line as he glances toward his companion. “It would not be honorable of me to pursue Miss Itadori under the pretense of riling Gojo, as you seem intent on doing—”
“Kento!” The raven-haired man—Lord Geto—throws his head back in laughter, the sound rich and unapologetically amused. He leans forward slightly, propping his elbow on the armrest, as his grin widens. “So confident in your lady-pleasing and romancing abilities, aren’t you?” Nanami’s frown deepens, but Geto merely waves him off, his laughter subsiding to a mischievous chuckle. “No, no—don’t worry. You misunderstand me. This isn’t about Miss Itadori falling for you, though,” he smirks, “I’m sure you’d manage well enough.” His tone is teasing, but his words lack any true malice.
“Then what is it about?” Nanami’s voice carries a note of exasperation, though he remains as composed as ever, swirling his drink in quiet contemplation.
Geto straightens, a glint of something sharper flashing in his dark eyes. “It’s about them. They’re idiots, Kento—idiots in love, the both of them. And it is our duty, as Satoru’s friends,” he pauses, meeting Nanami’s gaze with deliberate emphasis, “to help him realize what he truly desires.”
Nanami snorts, setting his glass down with a muted clink. “You just want to toy with them, to orchestrate the ton and its leading source of gossip.”
The corner of Geto’s mouth quirks upward in a sly smile, one that practically oozes self-satisfaction. “That, my dear friend,” he says, his voice low and conspiratorial, “I cannot deny.”
They lapse into silence once more, the kind that only years of friendship can create, as the firelight flickers and dances on the walls around them. Nanami tips his glass back, savoring the warmth of the whiskey as he contemplates Geto’s words—and the inevitable chaos that would follow in their wake.
prev. the house party | next. the lake
general masterlist | series masterlist
a/n HEYYY POOKIES IT'S HERE IT'S HERE WHAT DID WE THINK. also here is the bridgerton!gojo playlist if anyone is interested!!! i apologize it is 99% taylor swift but i will be adding more diverse songs
despite the miss itadori hate in recent times our girl is BOUNCING BACKK #mogged i cant wait for her to become even more of a diva in the next few chapterssss!!!! (not rn shes going through her sad girl era or wtvr)
suguru (left) and nanami (right) at this whole drama
also i hope none of you WHORESSSS simped for geto when we made eye contact with him (im looking at zaynesbathrobe anon and all those anons that are obsessed with bridgerton!geto). stay FOCUSED girls gays and theys
thank you for readinggggg. a hot new bombshell will be entering the villa in the next few chapters can we guess who he is??? hint he has huge tits and smelly balls
comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3
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I hate the specific brand of toxic positivity that people here reserve specifically for anyone complaining about clueless americans.
Like. With the whole redbook thing I think americans sharing a space with chinese people and unlearning a lot of their misconceptions about the world is a good thing and should be celebrated and encouraged.
But also a lot of the people posting about it are posting about it like up until this happened they thought of everyone else outside of the US as weird alien NPCs automatons. Also shit like this
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"Do you guys experience completely normal human experiences in China or are we special in the US?" as if that's not an absolutely unhinged thing to ask.
And no one can make any post about how it's actually very worrying that americans are Like That to the point that grown-ass adults are acting like "people in other countries are normal people with emotions and a sense of humor" is some kind of mind-blowing revelation and not literally something everyone should know just by virtue of seeing people outside of the imperial core as human without a hundred of the most annoying motherfuckers on this website clogging the notes with shit like "well how about instead of punishing people for not already knowing things you already know you instead reward them for learning and encourage them to learn more?" "remember that what is common sense to you might not be common sense to everyone, your experiences are not universal" like really? Are you going to do that about THIS? Like remember that the thing you're saying we're not allowed to judge americans for not already knowing is "people from other parts of the world are people just like you and me". I think it's actually perfectly okay to judge them for not already knowing that in their mid-20's.
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bigger than all of them
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summary - you and the girls have an extremely spicy wine evening [ 18+ content / mature ]
word count - >1k
pairing - azriel x mate!reader
You were 3 bottles of wine deep and had no filter.
Mor had convinced you and the girls to have a wine night in at the House of Wind. She had raided Rhys’ wine store room and taken some of his most potent stuff, hence why you were all so inebriated.
The night had started of sweet and friendly, but at some point it had taken a dark and sexual turn which is why you were all now divulging in each other’s sex lives.
“Well I hope you get treated right in the bedroom, Emerie.” Nesta smirked.
Emerie and Mor had been together for over three years now and they were still very much in their honeymoon phase. You doubted they would ever leave it.
“She does.” Mor answered, looking at her love from across the room with stars in her eyes, “And not just the bedroom.”
Emerie blushed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe this conversation was really happening.
“Are you a giver or receiver?” Nesta asked Emerie, wanting more details.
“Can I say both?” She replied.
“I would’ve thought Mor would’ve been the giver.” Feyre chimed in, nudging her shoulder into Mor’s since they were sat on the sofa next to each other.
“Sometimes it’s nice to switch.” Mor shrugged. “Top up anyone?”
Mor offered the bottle to everyone, holding it up whilst others held up their glasses to fill. Nesta’s was barely sipped from yet and she was demanding a refill. Yours was almost empty but you didn’t raise your glass just yet.
“Someone fill up Y/Ns glass. We need her tipsier before we question her about Az.” Mor demanded.
You blushed as you thought about being in the spotlight for being questioned about your sex life - with Azriel! Az was practically a brother to Mor and part of Nesta and Feyre’s immediate family, so it felt forbidden to talk about him like that with them. Yet, you did want to divulge a little.
“I need to be drunker to hear about Azriel’s sex life.” Nesta laughed, holding her glass out for Mor to fill.
“Where is he tonight?” Gwyn asked.
“Who? Az?” You asked.
“Mhm.”
“At home, I think.” You replied.
“Oh yes! You just moved houses didn’t you. How did that go?” Elain asked.
“It was good. We’re still decorating but we’re taking our time.” You answered, crossing your legs underneath as you got comfortable. The blanket had fallen slightly off your legs so you pulled it back up onto your lap.
“What colour are you painting the walls?”
“I think–.”
“I’m sorry. I did not invite you all over to hear what tone of beige Y/N and Azriel are painting their house. I want to know something more interesting. Like.. Have you defiled the house yet?” Mor asked.
All eyes switched to you intensely, like you were about to tell the most important story of all existence.
You took a nervous sip of wine, readying yourself for the beginning of the interrogation.
“Yes.” You said simply.
“And?” Feyre asked, eyes wide waiting for more.
“And what?” You pretended to be clueless.
“Oh please… We want to know what room. When? How long? What’s he like? Is the best you’ve ever had?” Nesta pried.
You bit your lip as you readied yourself to answer the questions. Hopefully Az wouldn’t care that you were going to divulge so many details with your friends.
“On the first night in our new house we… you know—.”
“Fucked?” Mor interjected.
“Yeah, fucked, for.. well I remember we started before dinner and then I don’t really ever remember going to bed… so, all night?”
Everyone squealed.
Feyre kicked her legs as she screamed in excitement and Gwyn almost spilt her wine on the floor from how elated she was.
You and Azriel were a very private couple, so hearing details like these were very rare and few - which is why it was all the more monumental when people did hear the details. Whether the details were soft or sexy were completely dependent on whether you’d been fed wine or not - Mor knew what she doing.
“Is he… big?” Gwyn asked shyly, still getting comfortable with talking about stuff like this.
“Well I have nothing to compare it to.” You furrowed your brows.
Nesta held up her hands in front of her, palms facing inwards to each other, drawing them a little closer together but still far enough part to keep a good distance between them.
“This is Cassian.” She said.
Feyre copied Nesta’s actions but created a gap that was a little smaller but by only a fraction.
“Rhys.”
Elain held hers up then, the smallest of all the gaps but still a big gap nonetheless, “Lucien.”
You bit your lip as you tried to suppress the giggle you wanted to let out. You tilted your chin to your chest as you answered, refusing to meet anyones eye as you did, “Bigger than all of them.”
“I knew it!” Mor shouted, raising her arms to the sky in triumph with herself.
“Well done, love, you correctly guessed the size of your brothers dick.” Emerie teased her.
“Gods, he must be good then Y/N/N?” Gwyn asked.
“Mhm.” You nodded, taking a sip of your wine.
“Did it get better with the bond?” Elain asked you.
“Oh yeah, definitely. You agree Mor?”
“Definitely.” Mor looked lovingly at Emerie, her mate, as she answered. Emerie nodded in agreement with Mor.
Feyre pouted as she watched their interaction, probably missing her own mate. Rhys and Feyre had the kind of bond where they couldn’t go half a day without being with each other. It was sweet.
“I think also, like, Az has learnt what I do and don’t like which is why it feels better.” You said.
“Oh yeah? What’s the best thing he’s learnt to do?” Nesta asked devilishly.
You pursed your lips and squinted as you thought about which moment to answer with, the wine having given you enough liquid courage to talk more about this kind of stuff.
Damn you Mor.
“He does this thing with his shadows…”
The girls squealed again and your toes curled just thinking about Azriel.
“He… sometimes ties me with them and uses the spare tendrils to tease me.” You blushed.
“Oh!”
“Y/N!!!”
“Yes!”
“Good for you!”
The girls seemed more excited by this than you. They did have a point. It was a pretty intense and exciting thing, to have a mate that was so open and interested in loving you in different ways.
It made your sex life interesting and fresh.
“I wish Cassian had shadows now, dammit.” Nesta rolled her eyes.
“He must treat you good, Y/N.” Feyre said.
“He does. Really good.”
“I knew this wine night was a good idea!” Mor laughed and so did the rest of you.
Maybe she had a point. It was nice to be comfortable enough to talk about these kind of things with some of the best people in your life. Not to mention it made you even more excited to get home to Azriel later on and defile another room with him.
#azriel x reader#azriel#azriel fic#acotar#acotar fic rec#azriel fic rec#azriel x you#azriel smut#azriel fanfic
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my first sauna experience, told with katsuki bakugo. warnings for nsfw, afab reader, no pronouns used tho! reader wears a bikini, semi public? (it's a sauna), bit of nipple play, kats likes boobs n booty, hickeys, uses of "babe" and "bitch", fingering, mentions of the pill.
katsuki bakugo despises saunas. he sweats like crazy during his day to day life, so him being trapped in a room that makes him sweat balls isn't ideal. unless, he's trapped inside with you.
what started out as a pool day to cool off led to to borderline suffocation, the vapor and eucalyptus leaves making your body tense up even more as you straddle the blond's lap. his lips clash against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, as his hands roam over your thighs.
katsuki bakugo is intoxicating. once you kiss him, it suddenly becomes impossible to stop. the way his tongue slips past your lips to wrestle yours so easily, how he bites your bottom lip not too hard for it to bleed, but hard enough to leave a mark, how he always manages to find that sweet spot on your neck as he nibbles his way to your breasts—
katsuki bakugo is a fucking genius. sometimes.
there's a limit to his greatness. because you're katsuki's first everything, and he's fucking clueless. as his hand carefully (and cluelessly) fondles your breast beneath your bikini, you giggle. looking at him, you smile. "you can leave a mark on me, y'know? i don't bite."
he scoffs, "you think i wanna hear shit from my mom during lunch when she sees you?"
"you can leave it somewhere she doesn't see, kats. i'll give you creative liberty, picasso."
katsuki retrives his hand as he starts to think. his looks your body up and down, looking for a spot. neck is a no-go, you never wear turtlenecks. thighs and stomach are off limits too, because half your closet is filled with cropped tshirts and shorts. you knew he had figured something out when his fingers gently pushed aside your bikini, driving his mouth to your breast. he suckles on a spot right above your nipple, as his fingers pinch to his liking.
your body's quick to react, back arching slightly as your hand is placed on katsuki's chest. "careful" you hiss, and he pays no mind. unconsciously, you buck your hips towards him, earning a groan in return. you let your hands roam through his hair, when he pulls away, a smirk is plastered on his face. "kinda looks like a heart. i did a damn good job."
his lips connect with yours once again, and his hands lower towards your ass. it's not unusual for katsuki to do so, but you notice their trajectory is a bit different this time. his fingers brush over the hem of your panties as you shudder, holding back a moan.
"let me see it" he demands, "just once."
and you nod, looking up at the ceiling from pure embarrassment. because it hasn't been too long since you and katsuki have been intimate. it drives you crazy how he's not shameful at all.
he pushes your panties to the side, groaning at the sight. his fingers ghost over your clit, two of them slowly sinking inside you. the sight of you taking his fingers is enough for katsuki to feel his cock twitch with excitement in his swim trunks. and as they begin to thrust, you lean closer to him, mewling his name right in his ear. it’s exhilarating, the thought that anyone could burst through the door is enough for katsuki to speed things up, just the way he likes it.
you curse your boyfriend’s coarse fingers, the sounds that escaped your lips were so raw, so lewd—you thought the security guard would bust you down at any second. and as you gripped desperately on katsuki's shoulders, he hums. it’s mostly during these moments when you see a side to katsuki bakugo the world has never seen.
“fuck—i need your pretty pussy. right now—please—just take me raw.”
katsuki bakugo begs.
your eyes widen at his statement, “katsuki, you do realize i’m not on the pill, right?”
he abruptly retrieves his fingers. “i’ll pull out, i swear—just fucking do it.”
you giggle at your boyfriend’s neediness, “you do realize if something goes wrong, we’ll have little me’s running around in a few months, right? it’s a no for now, kats. we’re still young.”
katsuki sighs, his hands guiding your hips as he aligned your entrance with his clothed cock. “then fucking use me. got that?”
you waste no time rocking your hips, slowly grinding against his bulge. with his hands still on you, katsuki throws his head back as he bucks his hips forward, helping you quicken the pace. “d’you know how good you feel? ‘s like you’re riding me, babe.”
you know katsuki is long gone from pleasure when he pulls out the names. when he’s a moaning mess, hungrily pulling you towards him, you know you have him right where you want him. a few slaps, rough kisses, and hair pulling, and katsuki is at his limit.
“fuck—bitch—i’m done” is what he manages to say before he comes undone, his forehead bumping against yours as he mutters a small ‘i love you.’
as you catch your breath, you plant a quick peck on your boyfriend’s cheek. “you ready for lunch with your parents, kats?”
“you shitting me?” he asks, bewildered. “you’re lucky i’m changing my trunks, cause i got nut all over.”
#stealth ops.#bnha x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo smut#bakugo x reader#bnha smut#bakugo x you#katsuki x reader#katsuki x you#katsuki smut#dynamight x reader#mha x reader#my hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia x reader#bnha x you#mha x you#bnha x y/n#bnha bakugou#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you
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