#up to the point that it's inconvenient for them and then they throw a fit

[emotionalcadaver]

You guys. So my mom just tore into me because I decided not to go on this daytrip thing that my parents have planned to do tomorrow. Even though she literally told me that I didn’t have to go if I didn’t want to. Ma’am!? You literally offered that I didn’t have to go. Don’t offer that if you weren’t actually okay with it. This is why I am almost incapable of saying no to people. Because for my whole life I’ve been taught that even if someone says it’s okay if I say no, it’s actually not and I get punished for it. I just wanted a day to myself to rest and recharge especially since the rest of the week is going to be INSANITY.  

And then, when I tried to tell her that I’m feeling really anxious because my throat’s been sore most of the day, not only does she fully dismiss that I might be sick, but she threatened to cut off my therapy because it “doesn’t seem like you’re making any progress.” So now I have that to worry about.

I’m just so done with both of my parents at this point and I’m starting to realize that maybe the best thing for me actually would be to get as far away from them as possible after graduation.  

[holysupesbatman]

SuperBat Fic Recs

Woaaaah boy. I was in the Superbat tag and saw someone asking for recs and I got about 5 fics in before I realized that wouldn't fit in a reply and decided I should just make a whole post. I feel like I've read half of the Bruce/Clark tag on ao3 at this point and yet I still find more every time I look.

As a note, this post is heavily editorialized. These are all fics I've personally read and are here because I liked them and they come from my ao3 bookmarks. If you want better details about the fic, follow the links and check them out 🤷‍♀️ I'm a picky reader so the fact that it's on the list says a lot, though our tastes may vary.

Onto the recs! I'll organize them by ratings and then by length for simplicity and at the end I'll recommend some of my favorite SuperBat authors for further reading!

🦇

Rated: G

Uno Reverse by WixenBurr (~7k rated G) is really cute and fluffy

Summary: The batkids are trying to set Batman and Superman up. Unfortunately Bruce Wayne wants to date some rando news reporter named Clark Kent.

Rated: T

Know You Better by rotasha (~6k rated T)

super fluffy and cute. I adore this fic. Summary: Clark asks Bruce on a date, not knowing he’s a famous billionaire. Bruce says yes, because this is the first time this has ever happened to him.

I'm Not As Think As You Drunk I Am by Mardiaz173 (~13k rated T)

This one is SO much fun – Nobody believes Clark after he meets the supposed "flirty, stupid, entitled drunk" playboy billionaire Brucie Wayne when he says he's actually "clever, mischievous, and sober with an indecipherable ulterior motive."

Saudade by liodain (~20k rated T)

OK THIS ONE MAKES MY HEART MELT IT'S SO FLUFFY AND SWEET I CAN'T. Like put this on your re-read when you're sad and need to feel like love and goodness exist list. Bruce breaks down in Kansas in 2006 years before BvS and meets young Clark.

fallin' for him was like fallin' from grace by Resacon1990 (~23k rated T)

It's just 20k of Clark simping for Bruce. That's it. That's the fic. He's a golden retriever and he's in love, Your Honor. Bruce is not unaffected, but the pining is glorious.

summary: Or, five times Clark finds himself falling for Bruce, and the one time he does something about it

Mr. Romantic by Pandamomochan (~24k rated T)

ft Established Relationship SuperBat. Summary: Clark gets tasked to write a Valentine's Day article. The end result has every single women throwing themselves at him. Clark has always been patient with the drove of Brucie fans. Will Bruce be as mature with Clark's sudden popularity?

How to Date a Superhero by @solomonara (~25k rated T)

Technically a series of fics. Pure fluff. 1. Someone spots the Batman kissing Mild Mannered Reporter Clark Kent. Hijinks ensue. 2. Superman kissed Bruce Wayne in full view of several dozen phones. Now the whole world, including Lex Luthor, knows Superman has a boyfriend. But that's okay. Batman has a plan. 3. Deleted scenes from the How to Date a Superhero series, ruthlessly cut in most cases to prevent the Robins from taking over.

In every sense of the word by froggy-o (bobafiend) (~29k rated T) From the author's summary: Alternatively titled "Why Wonder Woman is on the verge of losing her fucking mind."

I swear this fic is just Diana's eyebrow twitching as she watches Bruce and Clark start dating and she's let in on both their civilian identities meanwhile Superman and Batman are on the watchtower arguing and disagreeing about basically everything on the daily. In the name of Justice, of course. The identity porn is on a whole other level and it was done so well.

Get Over It by rotasha (~32k rated T)

heh this one has plenty of identity hijinks. Sooooo funny. Summary: Bruce needs to get over his inconvenient feelings for Superman and he meets an attractive reporter who he thinks can help him do just that. Little does he know...

the cost of being a good dad by Mawiiish (~96k rated T)

hehehe... the batkids set up a dating profile for Bruce and catfish Clark. It's more of a blind date for Bruce (not that he had any idea he was going on a date at all), but who has Clark been texting for the past several weeks??? Oh yeah. The kids. What follows is as follows. Still with capes!

Rated: M

Guardian Dog by BombusBombus (~22k rated M)

Summary: There's something wrong with Clark Kent. He has to be a villain, right? A threat? He doesn't behave like a normal person, no matter how handsome or clever he may seem.

grasp his heart (once and for all) by liodain (~32k rated M) soulmate AU fic. Pretty emotional LOTS of identity issues going on there like so much. Kinda high on the drama and angst there honestly but it was a cute read. Summary: Bruce Wayne doesn't believe in fate.

tell all the truth (but tell it slant) by susiecarter (~33k rated M)

love me a fake dating AU. Summary: It takes a while for Batman and Superman to work things out, once Clark comes back from the dead. Pretending to date each other in order to explain why Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are in the same place so often? Doesn't help as much as you might think.

Strangers When We Meet by Trista_zevkia (~63k rated M)

ANOTHER soulmate AU! This time feat. Kryptonian Biology hehehe. Summary: Clark Kent thought he was straight, until Batman kick started something. The question is what did Batman start? Is Brucie Wayne able to explain it to him?

ship-to-ship combat by pomeloquat (~77k rated M)

OK NO LISTEN this is one of my all-time favorite fics EVER. It's so meta and so funny. Clark is us. We are Clark. Clark is writing RPF for the Bruce/Batman ship and he's very convinced it's real EVEN THOUGH he has a huge crush on the Batman... let the hijinks BEGIN.

Rated: E

Embracing Destiny by Mithen (~8k rated E)

This one is just really really cute. Summary: As a member of the Legion of Super-Heroes in the 31st century, a teenaged Clark learns a stunning secret about his own future: he and someone called "Batman" will be legendary lovers.

perfect strangers by susiecarter (~15k rated E)

like. bruh. susie did it again. This tag says it all: communication failure. I love this one though. Summary: Batman and Superman are fucking. Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are a great cover for fighting crime, and also might be dating. Bruce and Clark have no idea what they're doing; but they definitely aren't going to be able to talk themselves into stopping.

Relinquishing Control by foxyk (~25k rated E)

afsfwsdfhishdfksj no words. Read the authors summary and then just go read the fic:

Superman worries that if he lets go he'll injure his partner. Batman knows better. Batman worries that if he lets someone else in, he'll hurt them. Superman knows better.

Picture Perfect by TheSaltiestDog @the-saltiest-dog (~26k rated E)

this one is cute and then horny on main but also just so fluffy. Clark sees Bruce in a new light through candid shots, then proceeds to take lots of candid shots as they begin a relationship. Cue schmoop, fluff, smut, and – you guessed it! –Miscommunication!

A Night Off and sequel A Day Off by Mawiiish (~37k combined; first part is E, second is T)

One of my all-time favorites. My bookmark says 10/10 would read again soooooooo... 👀🤷‍♀️😅🥵

Bruce is enjoying one of his few nights off when a very persistent young man offers to buy him a drink. At first he's apprehensive; he's just here for a good time and this Clark seems to be looking for more than that. Then again, what harm can one drink do?

Clark wakes up to an empty bed and despite Bruce being honest from the start, he's still disappointed.

The Downsides to a Secret Identity by liodain (~42k rated E)

I'm currently reading this one – the summary from the author says it all, it's so good but sooo drama:

Bruce Wayne has taken a shine to Clark Kent, but Clark is more interested in the Bat of Gotham. The Bat, however, has it in for the Superman in a big way. Clark should probably have considered that before falling quite so hard. They're working together to track down some missing Kryptonian weaponry, after all...

50 Shades of Wayne by susiecarter (~161k rated E)

No but listen, this is actually so full of plot and emotional depth and not as much smut as you might think. It's a full-scale retelling of Batman v Superman but without them knowing each other's secret identities. I read it in one go... the reveal? Maybe the best I've ever read. Soooo many emotions. It's one of the few times I've read BDSM in a fic and it actually felt in character. I wasn't sure I would read it when I started, but it was a compelling read and extremely well done. Honestly, I'd read it again.

SuperBat Author Shoutouts:

susiecarter @susiecarter

liodain @liodain

Resacon1990 @sassyresacon1990

shipyrds @burins

Mawiiish @superbattrash

rotasha

Mithen

[ebonyslasher]

Hey I'm new to these requests so sorry if it's bad. Plus been reading ya stuff and I feel like you are the only one who can do this justice. But for some reason having the slashers react to their s/o having a decrepit version of their fit makes me laugh. Like they seem so excited to show them and it's just.. 👁️👄👁️bad. (Um I do see you're on hiatus so I'm sorry if this is an inconvenience or anything.) Also can this be the mask that Michael s/o has plz?

Hey! Thank you so much for reading my work and sending this in. That mask cracks me up

What the hell you got on?!! Slasher mask reaction:

Michael Myers

You saw that mask at a spirit halloween and had to get it

That specific one in Haddonfield couldn't sell the more accurate, original one anymore....mostly due to combined ptsd lol.

But, this would be great to use to try to get a reaction out of him...maybe a chuckle 🤭

It seems impossible but you were successful a few times, he just has....dark humor.

Knowing him, you had to just go ahead and out the costume on in the parking lot. That nigga be stalkin'.👀

You bust through the door🚪 with the whole fit on, confident as hell

😠Michael strides to the front door, figuring out why you making all that fuckin noise and slammin' doors in HIS house.

Michael sees you. And he stops.

You looking how you looking is looking at Michael and he's looking at you.

Girl...what the fuck you got on?

Michael knows he don't look like that y/n🫤, you look derpy. He looked intimidating- there's a difference!!!

He starts to walk past, acting unaffected. But, he swiftly pulls that shit off.

You're shocked 😲, he just scalped you! You start giggling.

"Michael that cost money!!!" 😩

Michael thinks, 'You shouldn't care, you were wasting it with this shit anyway.'

Stu +Billy

Oh, this shit was perfect.

You saw this while browsing on e-bay and thought that Stu and Billy would love this. And you got an old big ass block cordless phone too? Oh baby!✨

You went over their house to spend the night. And of course you hid the costume and mask in the spennanight bag 👜. Y'all were in the middle of the first blunt rotation. You excused your self to the bathroom so you could enact your grand plan.

Taking your personal fat ass weed 🍃pen, you hopped into the bathroom and put the costume on. You also smoked tf up out of the bathroom so you could have some smoke as a background.

Throwing open the door, you jump out and say, "Wassuppppp!!!!"

They look at you, shocked, before Stu and Billy double over. They are hollering.

Y'all all crying 😂 over the mask. The weed wasn't making things better

Stu and Billy both randomly say WASSUPPP😝 and point at each other as they laugh.

Honestly they love it. and your grand entrance ? Fantastic

Bubba Sawyer

Listen.... you don't know about putting someone else's skin on your face

If you want to do that, by all means. you strong as fuck. And fit right the fuck in with who you with.

But you find this mask for pretty cheap online, the others were....costly (like $100 + for the good ones, dayum!)

Once it's delivered, you run up into a random room and shut the door. You put it on and look in the mirror as you evaluate the mask.

Man, what the hell were these ears?🙃 It looks like someone tried to make earmuffs but didn't really know what they were.

Also this fucking hair? You looked like a fucked up lunch lady

It's huge asf on your head, balloon 🎈 ass mask. It's lopsided. Looking like you got hit and was turned halfway loose

Bubba comes in and spots you with the mask.

He starts, jumping and clapping❤️❤️. Bubba is bubbling and squealing at how cute you are.

Essentially he's like, "oh baby yay!" He loves it. Bubba doesn't think it looks bad! He's flattered! 🤗

It's like physical thing that represents you truly being a part of the family~

Pinhead

Well...Pinhead's face isn't a mask. It's his damn face. But it'd be a mask for you!

You gotta show your appreciation to yo mans!!! and mess with his ass. He's dramatically hilarious.

There were, surprisingly, a lot of masks made of Pinhead's face. It was a bit odd, but useful for what you needed. At least you didn't have to make one from scratch. 🤷🏿‍♀️

However, You still wanted to be a little creative. Dip a lil toe into your ✨craft era✨.

So, it was obvious you got one without the pins! Going to the store and seeing to most colorful 🎨 of pins was an automatic yes.

Now, this shit was not easy putting in. Some of them was bent every whichaway, the holes were uneven so some were drooping.🫠

You looked a mess, chile.

"Y/n...what is the meaning of this?" You snicker. "Babe, I'm You!"

"So, you attempt to mock ME! Blasphemy!"

"Not trying to mock you!! I was making this so I could be like you...and mess with you a little."

"Silly human....tsk tsk. I will have my comeuppance."

[dokidokitsuna]

Fantasy Seal- Incident Resolvers

-I decided to go with the throwing needles as Reimu’s (first) phantom weapon. I’ve just always liked them; they feel like such a unique part of her arsenal, and it makes sense for her to start with a weapon similar to Sakuya’s knives, since he’s the first person she learns from.

-I love it when an anime cast has a variety of school uniforms; it’s such an underrated design choice. ^^ And in this case, it gives me a chance to put the characters in designs with more obvious references to the canon.

-Sakuya’s younger brothers are possessed by a mysterious pair of vampires, who also seem to be siblings in Gensokyo. Most of their ‘incidents’ are fairly harmless pranks involving weather phenomena, doppelgangers, and destruction of private property.

-Remi is the older twin, with a cold and calculating personality. Of the two, he is much more purposeful about embarrassing Sakuya and making their incidents an inconvenience to him specifically.

-Flandre is the younger twin, who is moody and sharp-tongued, but quiet most of the time. He’s a bit of a pushover, and tends to go along with what either of his older brothers tell him to do…unless he gets angry, at which point he becomes very difficult to reason with.

-Sakuya has a bit of an unfortunate dynamic with his brothers (which I’ve definitely only thought about a normal amount): basically, he spoiled them with constant attention for far too long, and now that he’s getting older and doesn’t have that kind of time anymore, they resent him and try to get back at him for “ignoring” them…a development that happened to neatly coincide with the discovery of their powers. The end result is a trio of characters who love each other deeply but simultaneously make each others’ lives hell…so, just a normal sibling rivalry, pretty much. ^^

-Is this actually ‘Sanae’ (as in, not just the name of this representation of the character, but the actual same character with the same backstory)....??? I’m still a little undecided, but I’m leaning towards ‘yes’. ^^ I just think she fits well into this AU the way she is, as someone who’s canonically a human descendant of a god– only in this case, since Gensokyo isn’t a place she can move to, she instead becomes a bridge between the ‘fantasy phase’ and ‘material phase’, who can mediate between the two layers of reality and teach others to do the same.

-Plus, she’s older now! I love aging up characters!! :D Cool old ladies for the win!!!

-Meanwhile, a real incident is brewing at the local university…

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

ooooh for the fake dating prompts: geraskier + #1? pretty please 💜

They were actually quite the good kisser, but they of course would never ever tell them that.

“We need a cover story,” Jaskier says. “If the Duchess thinks you’re here as a witcher, she’ll have her guards throw you out before you have time to get annoyed by all the people.”

Geralt wants to argue, but the bard actually has a good point. “I could pretend to be your bodyguard again. At a gathering this size, there have to be at least a few nobles there you’ve cuckolded.”

Jaskier wrinkles his nose, considering. “You showing up with swords might put her on her guard, whether you're here as a witcher or bodyguard."

“Then what do you suggest?” Geralt crosses his arms over the chest, scowling. After passing a couple of messages for the Redanian Secret Service, the bard thinks he’s some kind of mastermind at espionage.

Jaskier thinks for a moment, then brightens. “I know! You can come as my apprentice who is really my lover.”

“Why not just your apprentice?”

“Because no offense, Geralt, but no one is going to look at you and think you’re in training to become a bard. And gods help us if anyone asks you to sing. So it behooves us if they think that the only reason I keep you around is because of the service you provide to my instrument.” He wiggles his hips.

Geralt feels his lips twitch of their own volition. "Hm, not sure if we can pull that off."

“And whyever not?” Jaskier looks offended.

“If I’m your lover, you’d have to go at least three days without letting anyone else into your pants. Might kill you.”

“I can go three days without sex!” Jaskier plants his hands on his hips.

“Since when?”

“I went nearly two weeks without when we were traveling through Velen!”

“And you bitched the entire time.”

“I would have done that anyway. Velen is terrible.”

Geralt can’t argue with him there. “No one’s going to believe we’re really lovers.”

“Why not?”

"Because no one’s going to think that I’m the kind of person you take to bed," Geralt doesn’t say, thinking of the pretty barmaids and fancy nobles Jaskier normally pursues. Instead, he says, “There will be people you know there. They’ll have seen you with your lovers before.”

“And?” Jaskier arches an eyebrow.

Geralt searches for the right words for a moment. “When you’re sleeping with someone, you’re usually all over them. You can't keep your hands or your lips off them. It’s why you nearly get gelded for fucking the wrong person so often. You’re not subtle.”

Jaskier opens his mouth as if to argue, then closes it. “Then I suppose I’ll have to do that with you.”

Geralt snorts, skeptical.

“What?” Jaskier asks, taking a step closer. “You think it will be such a hardship, draping myself over you?”

The neck of Geralt’s armor feels a little too tight. Did he have it fitted wrong? “No one will buy it.”

Jaskier takes another step, moving into Geralt’s space. “Then we really should start practicing now.”

“I don’t need to practice,” Geralt growls. “I’m not a spotty youth who’s never held a girl’s hand before.”

Not that hand holding comes up much in his intimate encounters, but he’s not going to bring that up.

“Even the greatest master at his craft needs to keep his skills sharp.” Jaskier tilts his head to the side, studying Geralt’s face. “And you’re right. We’re only going to be able to sell this if we look like two people who are used to being intimate with each other. Kiss me.”

Geralt can’t quite school the surprise out of his face. “What?”

“Kiss me,” Jaskier says again. “Do you want to take the Duchess down or not?”

“Not sure how kissing you will help that.”

“We might need to kiss at some point to maintain our cover,” Jaskier says. “Best not to risk it, right?”

Geralt lets his gaze drop to Jaskier’s pink mouth. The bard’s lips have always been inconveniently pretty, especially when they’re parted in stunned offense or curled into a wicked smile. He almost says no, that he’ll figure out another way to get close to the Duchess. It’s best not to let Jaskier anywhere near a contract this dangerous anyway. Jaskier can go back to his succession of pretty lovers and Geralt can find and kill a monster, just like they always do.

He’s about to pull back when Jaskier seems to get tired of waiting for Geralt to make a move. Before Geralt can react, Jaskier’s lips are on his and suddenly, Geralt isn’t thinking about the Duchess or the contract anymore.

Jaskier’s lips are warm and soft against his, tasting of the wine they had with dinner. He doesn’t realize that he’s cupping Jaskier’s face in his hands until he registers the prickle of stubble against his palm. He slides one hand down, over the silky fabric of Jaskier’s doublet, warm from the bard’s body heat. Jaskier shivers as Geralt’s hand rests on his lower back.

Geralt drags Jaskier closer, breath hitching as Jaskier’s fingers tangle in his hair. He can hear Jaskier’s heartbeat hammering and can practically taste the arousal in the air. It would be so easy to drag Jaskier the short distance to the bed, to lose himself in Jaskier’s taste and the feel of him and…

Jaskier pulls away, blinking up at Geralt with the dazed look of someone emerging from a deep sleep. For a moment, they stare at each other. Jaskier’s pretty mouth is swollen from kisses, a sight that sends something hot and possessive surging through Geralt’s belly.

Jaskier clears his throat and laughs, the sound more high-pitched than usual. “And you think we couldn’t pull it off!”

“Pull what off?” It takes Geralt a moment to remember why they were doing this in the first place. The Duchess. The contract. Right.

“Pretending to be two people who are intimately acquainted.” Jaskier waggles his eyebrows. “Now you won’t have to pretend to be unable to get enough of my lips.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “Sure, bard.”

“Oh, don’t lie to me. You have to admit, that was a damn good kiss.”

“I’ve had better,” Geralt lies.

Jaskier gasps, mouth falling open. It’s a sight that makes Geralt glad that his new armor has a codpiece. “Pure and utter slander! I’ve had it from reputable sources that I’m the finest kisser on this side of the Amell Mountains.”

“You know they’re paid to give you pretty compliments at the Passiflora, right?”

“Brute.” Jaskier pokes Geralt in the chest. “That’s a terrible thing to say to your pretend lover.”

“Forgive me,” Geralt says dryly. “I’ve never had a fake lover before.”

“And at this rate, you never will again.” Jaskier turns on his heel, nose in the air.

With the bard looking away, Geralt reaches up to touch his lips. He can still taste mulled wine and can still feel the warmth of soft pink lips against him. He’d like nothing more than to pull Jaskier close and lose himself in another one of those kisses.

But this is just pretend and Geralt can’t let Jaskier know the effect he has on him. So he wipes away the lingering taste of Jaskier with the back of his hand and goes to sharpen his sword. There’s a monster to kill, after all.

Fake dating prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

[starsurface]

eh...sorry if I'm annoying but a little bit of Regressor Raiden please (I don't care if the one from the old timeline or the new one)

I did MK1 because someone else requested MK11 Regressor Lord Raiden :3

Also, none of you could ever annoy me. I love taking request, so please don't worry about how many you might send or if it's an 'inconvenience' for me <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Regressor Raiden Hcs

🌩 Baby regressor and no one can tell me otherwise

🌩 But also regresses from about 2-4 (more 0-4, can regress to just a few months if he's having an extremely tough day)

🌩 Main CGs are Kung Lao, Liu Kang, and all his friends :]

🌩 Favorite little nicknames are Baby Boy, Little One, Sweetie, Sweetheart, Rai, Mr. Thunder (he finds it funny), and Little Lamb

🌩 Doesn't really like nicknames based off him being Earthrealm's champion because it just reminds him of how much stress he has :(

🌩 Kung Lao is his favorite CG because they both watch each other

🌩 But his favorite regression friend is Syzoth

🌩 Mostly because Syzoth just likes cuddling and doing baby activities with him

🌩 Which means Raiden can try to figure out what block goes into what hole, and Syzoth will cuddle up to him (and try to help out)

🌩 Very, very good boy, hates breaking rules

🌩 In fact, the only times he's ‘broken’ rules is when he's had an hard day and lashes out with a sobbing hissy fit

🌩 Crying, yelling, stomping his foot, throwing things, and just feeling icky over all

🌩 A quick line of ‘Oh my poor baby, come here, sweetheart,’ and he'll stop his hissy fit and come break down in your arms

🌩 Will probably request a quick bath because of how icky and bad he feels

🌩 Bathtime with little Raiden is very soft and sweet

🌩 Small splashes, and adores bubbles

🌩 Will continuously point at the soap that makes bubbles if he thinks he doesn't have enough (mostly all times, your going to either have to softly put your foot down or suffer having to get all the bubbles rinsed out of the tub)

🌩 Will put a bubble beard on himself and giggle as he tries to do it to you

🌩 (^ If you don't like it or don't want one, just gently grab his wrist and tell him not to, and he'll place the bubbles on his head instead)

🌩 Only used his powers once while small and it was turning a hissy fit that a bolt of lightning stroke down and it absolutely terrified him

🌩 His gauntlets are placed somewhere he can't reach while small, and he'll take them off while being upset because he doesn't want to hurt you or get scared again

🌩 Again, usually a very good boy, but sometimes he can be ‘naughty’ (although it's usually always an accident)

🌩 The younger he is, he won't really understand why your so upset and get a little confused (although does piece together that this specific action makes you have a mean tone so he'll most likely not do it again)

🌩 If he's bigger, a gentle scolding is all that's needed for his to get teary eyed and offer to fix his mistake

🌩 Although if Kung Lao is also small, Raiden will usually follow his lead, whether he's doing something naughty or not

🌩 Why? Because Kung Lao's older, and if Lao says it's okay, then it must be okay!! :D

🌩 Will get really upset if Kung Lao gets him in trouble though and will silently start crying

🌩 Don't worry, they always make up and Lao apologizes for getting him scolded

🌩 Raiden really likes smaller activities

🌩 Tummy time, trying to figure out what object goes into what shaped hole, being read to, sitting on your lap, all those things

🌩 Use to suck on his thumb, but now has a paci he uses

🌩 Although he's a bit cautious about using it because he doesn't wanna ruin his teeth

🌩 Lao calls him a hypocrite because he use to suck on his thumb with no but whatever 😒 (he's also a bit cautious of that too, although doesn't like how unsanitary it can be)

🌩 He uses his paci the most when he's getting sleepy, or needs the extra comfort, and sometimes just because he wants to

🌩 Best way to fix this? Munchies

🌩 Lao loves snacks, but Raiden really enjoyed little snacks

🌩 Baby yogurt bites, baby puffs, cereal, little muffins, all that jazz

🌩 Takes forever to eat them though (and will shyly ask you to get him more by sliding you over the bowl and giving you puppy eyes 🥺)

🌩 He adores both bottles and sippy cups and you really can't make him choose which is his favorite because they're both his favorites :(

🌩 Although does have preferences baseing of his age and how his day went

🌩 Likes just plain water or warm milk with some honey and cinnamon

🌩 Has a tiny habit of stealing things but it really silent about it

🌩 Johnny's sunglasses that have been missing for twenty minutes? On Raiden's head, he'll give you the biggest smile and excitedly point to them

🌩 Liu Kang's headband that he swore he placed down for 2 seconds and it disappeared? Raiden is not currently wearing it and singing along to his favorite show

🌩 Also a babbler if he's tinier, but will babble like he's having a normal conversation

🌩 Isn't exactly shy about babbling, but also only does it around closer friends

🌩 Likes goijg outside and sitting in the Whushu Garden and looking at the butterflies while having a picnic

🌩 But also really likes just sitting down and watching his favorite TV show

🌩 (^ I could see him really liking Ruby and Max, don't ask my why)

🌩 (^ Also the intro is really easy to sing to because it like . . . two words repeated- But he'll sing along at full volume with the biggest smile!! :D)

🌩 If your really busy while he's regressed and can't give him your undivided attention, he's usually understanding of it

🌩 Will request you do you work in the living room though so he can watch his TV show with you and you can do your work at the coffee table

🌩 If you need to be in your room or office though, he'll ‘sneakingly’ check up on you every so often

🌩 Sneakingly as in you can clearly hear his pitty patters and his little giggles when he peaks through the crack of your door 🥺

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Stop, he's my Pookie Bear and I love him <3 (not babying but also . . . babying??)

[coff-in]

HAII GUESS WHO'S BACK AGAIN!! Ｏ(≧∇≦)Ｏ

can i request ashley with a fem reader (either the same one, or a different one entirely) but with ashley's like... unhingedness and yandere(?) attitude cranked up to the max? like, reader can already hardly talk to anyone else as is but i feel like with that cranked up more than usual, she probably really tries to isolate reader from friends, potential love interests, and even family members to a certain extent. (　＾∀＾)

i'd imagine jobs are super finicky too, reader can probably never hold down a job too well because of whatever ashley throws a fit, likely over reader leaving (reader tries to have the discussion that she needs job because job = money!! it probably works at first and then falls onto deaf ears later on (　・ω・))

if reader tries to leave the situation? ashley probably blackmails her into staying with whatever she has for leverage or do the classic old "i'm the only person willing to be by you!!" type shtick that manipulative people tend to do ( ｡ﾟДﾟ｡) if reader does leave successfully you bet there's going to be hell until ashley inevitably finds reader. i am running out of fuel though;; so insert potential dubcon/noncon situation here

i should've specified this earlier and you don't need to rewrite my one req bcs you didn't know but i just ask for no incest in my asks due to some personal reasons ( ＞Д＜；) please don't feel bad, though, since you didn't know!! i'm pretty much open to anything but incest and all the grossout fetishes, though! ^^ again, i am so sorry for the inconvenience on that part!! ( ´д｀､)

also ^^ just assume all my reqs will be fem or gen neutral reader ﾟ+.ﾟ(´▽`人)ﾟ+.ﾟ

- 🕊

notes from coff-in: i'm sorry, i didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable about the incest (i think it might've been the petplay one? but lmk if i'm wrong if you want to). BUT thank you for telling me this! i'll try to keep it in mind in the future when responding to your asks :) and thank you for requesting! :D there's no smut in here, just some dialogue and me trying to get a hang of their dynamics is all. you can interpret this as the previous [reader] to your other asks if you want :3 lmk what you think

[fem] reader-insert

The phone rings once, twice, thrice. Then once, twice, and thrice again. You're hoping that he'll pick up. You don't know how long Ashley'll stay asleep. Your worry and frustration grows as you notice how cold you're getting, standing outside. The sky is blue but not sunny. It is very early in the morning. You made sure to come out at this time on purpose.

Once, twice, thrice-- and then it picks up.

"Hello?" The voice on the other side is low and groggy. You obviously had just woken him up. Good, you think, he should be awake. I should be inconveniencing him.

"Andrew. It's [reader]." You don't try to make small talk, you want to get straight to the point with this, "Have you talked to Ashley recently?"

He groans, "Yeah... I talked to her yesterday. Why?" The cold air only adds to the apparent bitterness in your voice.

"Can you please tell her that I have to leave the house to work so I can make money?"

There's a tense pause... "What?"

You sigh, "Ashley won't let me leave to go to work. I am politely asking you to talk to her about letting me go to work." You look back at your apartment, where Ashley decided to sleep over for the night. You hope she's still asleep. "She usually listens to you." She used to listen to you, too.

It's Andrew's turn to sigh. "I can't make her do anything, [reader]--"

"At least fucking try! Please..." You add on that last part in order to not sound like an asshole. "I'm sure the last thing you want is her or me asking you for money. I'm trying to support her too, Andrew, but she's not making it easy. I'm asking you to help me." There are cars loudly passing by and you try to focus on them to calm yourself down. You feel... scared. Scared that this won't work. Scared about what Ashley would do if she caught you talking about her like this. You used to not be scared of her. "And I doubt your parents would fucking help me..."

"Bloody hell..." Andrew groaned and shuffled around on his end of the call, "I'll... I'll, uh, see what I can do." It sounded forced from him. Take your fucking time, you scowl at your phone.

"Thank you." You then promptly hang up the call and stuff your phone in your pocket. You stand outside in the cold for a little bit longer. The birds chirp their songs on the bare branches of trees and clear sky contrasts just nicely against the dark landscape of your apartment's parking lot. You like the blue hour.

But like every hour, it comes and goes, and so do you. You turn tail and climb the steps back to your apartment. Walking down the hallway as quietly as possible, you take out your keys and put them into the lock. However, before you can open the door, it opens for you and you're face-to-face with Ashley Graves.

Shit.

"Where were you?" She's staring you down with a death glare, her face dark and pink eyes burning through your skin and soul. She's mad. She's mad and that's never a good thing. You try your best to steel yourself.

"I was downstairs."

"Why? How come you didn't wake me? What was so important that you had to get up and leave without me?!" She was raising her voice as she dragged you into the apartment, violently slamming the door behind you. You held back a frustrated sigh but couldn't stop a frown from appearing on your face.

"I had to call Andrew for help." The mention of his name made her pause for a bit. You took that window of opportunity to explain yourself, "I asked him to help me with my job. I'm-- we're a little tight on money, Ash. You preventing me from working isn't helping either."

"As if you'd be better working with a bunch of fucking floozies!" She yells with her hands balled into fists, "I'm doing you a fucking service by making you stay here! Those no good whore would probably flaunt all over you and make you do all the hard work by yourself!"

"Ashley..."

"Besides, you don't need to work anyways. Why not just ask you parents for money or something? Why not stay here with me?!"

"Ashley!" You yell at her, causing her to open her eyes and look at you. "I have to work! I have no one else to ask for help because of you! I don't talk to my parents, I have no friends to help, and I barely even talk to my coworkers. All! Because! Of you!" You stomp your foot on the floor childishly, but you can't help it. It's all too familiar. You're just going through the motions at this point. "I'm trying my best to be there for you, Leyley, but you make it so hard! I need you to back off! Give me some space to breathe, please!"

She looks at you bewildered, eyes wide and eyebrows bent downwards. She slowly looks down away from you. "You need some space, huh?"

Oh god dammit. "Ash..."

"I get it. No one wants me around them."

"Ashley."

"I'm just the fuck up of the family, aren't I? But guess, what! So. Are. You. We have no friends, no family, not lovers-- we're stuck with each other." She stares at you with intensity, "You chose me. YOU CHOSE TO BE WITH ME!!! No one else is going to take you in! Only I can love you for the fuck up that you are! No one else can love you the way I do! No you whore mother, not fucking Andrew, NO ONE ELSE BUT ME!" She comes closer and tugs on your shirt, your noses practically touching each other. "You have no one else but me. Got it?"

----

coff-in

[asciidot]

anymore angel vox? :3 how does he interact with other characters! /nf!

i am currently in Sketch Hell as i would describe it so ill be reblogging later when i can Draw but. Ramble under the cut

Firstoff i made the design because of a handful of fics which i read and stupidly forgot to save . Namely the one where he died for alastor, angelic interference, and the one where they made a fuckup on the books. (Ill get back when i find their names) . I just wanted to make the design for the sake of it and try to make his looks fit heaven and also my interpretation of vox, so hes intended to look almost like a character youd see on an old tv show but a bit more suave. I also wanted a space age head because i mean thats The Period of innovation and while there were certainly similar designs while he was alive its more symbolic of progress than actual progress. Then my brain started doing its thing and when i start thinking about anything for more than five seconds i get a bunch of pins and red string and become a full blown theorist who needs to connect everything to worldbuilding or ill die

so. I started a fic and if you find it you find it :]

ANYWAY! CLAPS MY HANDS

my angel vox.

Point the first! this isnt a vox goes straight to heaven, its canon divergence. Vox dies, goes to hell, and at the peak of his messy hell career he dies again and goes to heaven. Vox is not redeemed.

2. Vox is powerless. Heaven equalises people. It has rules, a lot of rules, and these are sown straight into their reality which cant be broken. He does however have free will and a silver tongue.

3. I think vox and sera would get along surprisingly well when it came to it. Sera is a 'tough love' sort of character, and does believe shes doing good in spite of it all, and is willing to do lesser evils. Vox cares about nothing but numbers and outcomes. This means that if they share a goal a lot of their approaches would also be shared, and i think theyd be fond of that.

4. Vox despises heaven. Just the fundamental concept of it. He does enjoy a struggle and he does enjoy pain, thats the point of being alive to him. Or well. dead. Its an uphill battle but its his uphill battle to fight. Also he just needs something to keep him occupied at all given times or he might just snap #adhd

4a. He also hates the residents, mostly because of very well earned trust issues how its not fun to talk to any of them. They just say whatever theyre thinking, no song and dance, no fine print, and vox loves fine print and searching for hidden meanings.

5. Emily is nice and almost tolerable but he would absolutely throw her off a bridge if it benefited him without second thought. He hates how much of a bleeding heart she is, but that seems to be a trait of everyone up there

6. Vox's relationship with himself is a complex mess. It always has been and heaven made it worse. Not only did it revert his body to how it was when he first fell but Angel Edition, hes barely mechanical anymore- and while being a good part machine was all part of hells punishment at the start for various psyche reasons (as well as how inconvenient it was) he had grown to worship and love his inorganic nature, and how much better it was than his faulty body . I have headcanons about that but that falls under spoiler territory for Said Fic. But heaven handing him back his flesh and blood is a massive massive violation of his boundaries and the moment he stops and actually starts thinking about what the hell has happened hes gonna break

7. The vees think vox is dead dead. Angel!vox would... have a strained relationship if he were to meet like that. On one hand, hes vox! Their vox! But like this he can't be his usual overlord self and while he trusts them enough to view them as friends, he wouldn't be able to face them as partners like this; business or otherwise. Hes horribly powerless and they need him on his A game.

8. Alastor (angel!vox punches the ground and eats drywall)

[gabbbyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy]

So called “Free thinkers” when there’s a bandwagon circulating around one of their favs

My take on Clock Tower / Glockenspiel headcanons!!

this man has me in an actual chokehold sorry not sorry

-Basic HCs

He/It

Clocktower/Anthro Clocktower robot

CANONICALLY 59 yrs old (going on 60 in may)

Voice HC: The Landlord (Oh!Super Milk chan- English/Americanized Dubs)

Height = 36’9 (36 ft 9 inches)

His personality can be summed up as being Sweet, fatherly, and calm—But can occasionally go overboard with his emotions, whether it be him acting too protective or sweet to the point of obsession, or going cuckoo (pun intended) over even the most minor of inconveniences. Everything else aside, he’s as sweet and smooth as honey, as long as everything is in moderation, he will be too.

-BATCH 1

This guy is basically the Timekeeper of the Wasteland, keeping track of certain dates and events in the wasteland, etc.!

Despite claiming that he knows the time, at any given moment, by heart (knowing his 50+ years of experience), little things, such as Daylight Savings time, may throw him off…and when he DOES get thrown off, he’d usually throw fits out of embarrassment.

There was once a time where the Small World ride was closed down (by Glockenspiel himself) for a whole week simply because he got the time wrong by 1 hour once (1) due to Daylight Savings… THAT IS HOW MUCH HE TAKES HIS JOB AS THE WASTELAND TIMEKEEPER SERIOUSLY.

As a nod to the OG Small World clock’s facade, and how it opens up to show the time—He has a chest crevice, which he can open up at given request, and show the time. Sadly, he can’t change the time by himself, and usually needs someone (usually a gremlin) to go and fix the time for him, when necessary (Time can be rearranged VIA differently shaped/sized Cogs inside said chest cavity

Both the cogs + The aforementioned chest cavity are incredibly sensitive, and even the slightest pains can throw the big guy off…

Also don’t tell him this… but the damned song that constantly plays on repeat in his daily life … actually comes from a Gramophone stored inside said chest cavity

-BATCH 2

Was actually still alive prior to the events of his boss fight (thinner/canon route), It just took like. Day or two before someone came and threw paint back on the poor guy

Still holds a grudge against Mickey after the maingame events, Despite the fact he’s practically required to just smile and wave at everyone willy nilly… here’s a visual demonstration

Has the memory of an elephant, once you do something to him, he (most of the time) remembers like it was yesterday… which isn’t too much of a good thing, given you know what

Drama Queen, very very big Drama Queen

Longlasting memory + Drama Queen = Hell no.

He can also recognize and perfectly memorize any face or object, so anyone who vandalizes the small world, or just any person thats worth seeing in a negative light, can be immediately recognized, and brought to justice

-BATCH 3 (+some Doll HCs)

Acts as a teacher/legal guardian figure to all of the dolls in the ride,

The dolls have Hivemind mentality, usually doing things in-sync and in unison, without rehearsal, as well as deciding how to act

Some times they’re pains in the ass to Glockenspiel, other times they usually help with certain chores and tasks, such as cleaning, getting certain things, etc.

Despite the fact the dolls resemble kids + have the mentalities of tweens, they’re extremely skilled and talented, even in tasks or activities that are normally considered hard, even for adults. But alas, the same cannot be said for their social skills, considering how their only real interaction is with eachother, and Glockenspiel

Though the dolls may cause some trouble or discomfort to Glockenspiel himself, any physical harm to them, from ANYONE (unless from another doll, without extremely malicious intent). Will set him off, no matter how bad the doll in question was behaving

If anything, if you break ANYTHING in the small world attraction, he will literally go over there and smack the Hickory Dickory FUCK out of you

Please note that Glockenspiel isn’t strict in the slightest, so you need to do something BAAAD to set him off like that.

The dolls carry information from the outside world, such as different cultures, fashion senses, food, etc.

As taken from a friend, Glockenspiel can reflect his own emotions onto the Dolls, if dormant, the dolls will act as normal, But if Glockenspiel goes into thinner form, the dolls will either:

Go completely stationary, not dare make a peep whilst the Clock Tower works his “magic”

Will wreck havoc on whatever person Glockenspiel is agitated at, Especially if said person has come with the intent to harm Glockenspiel, or the Small world in general. Please note that these dolls are approximately (in headcanon) 6-7 feet tall, and weigh about 250.

-BATCH 4

Glockenspiel usually feeds off of Oil (as a coffee-like substance) , and literal Computer chips (as snack)

Despite this, he doesn’t mind indulging in human cuisine every hour or so every once in a while, even having grown a bit of a sweet tooth from it, as well as having the aforementioned dolls make little foods for him, even if it’s not always perfect, or… even if it’s even considered edible. (Not like he cares though… he’s a damn robot!)

Speaking of how Oil acts as a sort of “coffee” to him, he’s. Pretty much addicted to the point that the oil may be apart of him, given how he has to deal with the 200+ sentient dolls, timekeeping, sitting around doing NISH. Keeping the ride fine and dandy, and listening to the same dumb song on loop for over 50 years…yeah!!!

If he doesn’t get his frequent dosage of oil, he’s just gonna be bitchy bitch mcbitcherson for the whole day, many complaints were filed to the gremlins for that and the ride’s service hours got cut short because the bitchiness was getting too much

-BATCH 5 (backstory edition)

He was apparently popular in the outside/“mainstream” world back in the 80s, in which he looked extremely different, with his appearance resembling that of those punk/rock idols that catered to the rebellious teen generation

His appearance in the 80s was much more lively and had much more going on than the mellowed out old man we have today—though i have not drawn an actual design for it yet, it’s color palette is heavily similar to that of the Glockenspiel shown in the Epic Mickey comic “Clocktower Cleaners”, that + just being reminiscent to Hong Kong Small World

Was a massive pushy egotistical jerk back in the 80s, partied a lot (not a healthy amount for a 36 foot tall, 6 ton weighing Clock tower), typical “young and free” hooligan—way less soft and collected as he is today

Something happened one day that cut his fame short, possibly an accident at a party that caused him to get thrown off from the Mainstream world, and straight into the Wasteland, where he was forced to be on some googoo gaga weenie hut Jr. ass ride for the remainder of his time as a punishment for his recklessness

There were even rumors that have diffused to the Wastelands from the Outside world that they even went on to REPLACE Glockenspiel with somebody else…it doesn’t bother him as much, but it’s definitely worth noting

-BATCH 6 (more physical stuff)

Despite all laws of physics, regarding the texture and form of metal, wood, and all things that create a mechanism such as himself…. He is squishy.

Specifically on the face (considering one of his attack animations in his boss fight), and certain bodily areas. Though this shouldn’t, and can’t be possible… it is… very much so

Despite the latter, he is also somewhat soft on other areas of his body, especially due to a protective inner rubber layer on certain parts of his body, like his chest and limbs, you can’t feel it much considering it’s *inside* of his metal shell of a body, but it’s there

However, his stomach contradicts acts this, having the protective rubber layer outside of the body, given how he doesn’t have a shell on his stomach, but rather another, thicker rubber layer to replace it (making his stomach’s exterior just be two layers of rubber) making his midsection area, and his face, the squishiest parts of his body

His forms can also control the heat of himself + the environment around him, given his tremendous size

In Paint form, everything is at a comfortable, room temperature, and leaves the Clock tower being warm to the touch, especially on the facial area, given the fact that this man is literally competitious with the actual sun, given the fact that he’s just this big ball of artificial sunshine when he’s not being all moody

However, his Thinner form causes the environment around him to be uncomfortably cold, not in a “hoohoo chill breeze” way, but in a “Holy shit. Its cold. im gonna get sick out here” kind of cold, Any physical touch with this guy in thinner form feels like you just took him out a freezer, which may or may not feel worse when you’re getting absolutely crushed by this absolute mammoth of a man

It’s a rumor that if you hug, or squeeze him in a tight/forceful way, he’ll make one of those cartoon squeak noises (specifically the one in MLP)

-CRACK/MISC HEADCANONS

Allergic to dust, somehow (also canon?)

Probably caused an earthquake like 45 times now

Actually put a crack in the floor once because he tripped

Without his glasses, his sight is equal to that of a 144p video

Touch starved.

Actually very clumsy, the size doesn’t help at all…given the last few entries

His favorite “human” food so far is probably pavlova, specifically pavlova cake rolls. The dolls make that for him a lot

Somehow is able to decipher any. ANY given language, speak it, and even translate it under any circumstances

Lullabies are one of his strongest weakness

Lemme elaborate—There was once a time where the Gramophone in his chest got damaged, and they had to replace it with a music box (the ones used for lullabies), and ended up having to close the ride because this mf decided to go Night-night after about 30 minutes into opening hours

Adores anything considered soft by texture, especially fabric, in clothing or blankets

Developed insomnia from constant oil consumption

Will usually call people who wander into the ride “little one”, regardless of physical age, to him, everyone is small

Got turned into a human once and nearly made like. Half of the Wasteland faint

Shortly after he was turned human, the first thing he did was hug somebody. It did not go too well considering his physique

Lives with 3 other objects in the Small World, which take form of a Cloud, a Sun, and a Hot Air Balloon, which may get separate HC dump posts sometime soon (once i find out what to do with them)

Cracks a lot of Time puns. the dolls really don’t like them

[fuck-customers]

Had a doozy of a customer interaction today, tldr: Man throws an absolute fit because I was wearing a mask at work.

The last couple of days I've been wearing a mask at work because my sinuses have been going completely haywire and my nose has been dripping, and I'd prefer not to be seen in public with a runny nose, management doesn't care since I don't have any actual symptoms they worry about. Today I'm running cash like normal, it's pretty early on in the shift, so I'm still in a decent mood, and I ring out this guy's burrito. I give him his total in my customer service, very clear and easy to understand, and he then goes "What was that? I'm sorry it's hard to hear you with that mask." Since the pandemic started that phrase has been an instant cue for me to drop out of the friendly tone and into a slightly more annoyed tone, and try to get the customer out as soon as possible. I am naturally a loud person and literally none of the other customers I deal with when I mask up have an issue hearing me, this guy was just trying to open up a conversation about my mask, which is just a black mask with peppers on it that they gave me during the pandemic for my uniform. "So is that mask a political statement or are you just too sick to be working right now?" Not a question I had been expecting, but completely straight faced while getting his change I assure him that I am not sick, my sinuses are just acting up and didn't want to drip snot everywhere. "If you're sick, you really shouldn't be working." I once again tell him I'm not sick, and give him his change, and he then asks if there's a manager he can talk to. Thankfully my ace in the hole manager that loves to fight with custome seers was on duty today, and came up to deal with the guy, who was once again trying to insist I was obviously sick if I was wearing a mask and I shouldn't be working, and at that point I was in the back of house, away from the line of sight of customers, and explaining to the coworkers in the back who had missed it what was going on, and trying not to go up front and throw hands with this idiot. I didn't hear a lot of the conversation between my manager and the offended customer, but at some point he did try again to claim he couldn't hear me through my mask, and I just started basically yelling that he was full of it because the girl working the back line about ten feet away, who was definitely further away than that guy was, could hear me perfectly fine, and I think the manager told him he was just being discriminatory at that point, and he immediately accused her of using the race card. She had to explain to him that discrimination isn't just a race thing, (she was initially confused because I am white, so was this man, but she's black, and he apparently immediately associated the word with race?) and after that she asked him to leave, I think he wanted a refund for the inconvenience (this manager also has a tendency to throw out orders when she's about to refuse someone service to drive her point home, so that could also have been it), which she gave him, but he still told her to fuck off as he was leaving, and I think I heard something about us supporting left-wing propaganda as well, but I was busy pacing in the back of house and screeching in frustration. I thought that was going to be the end of it, but apparently the man was so offended he emailed in a complaint, and I had to confirm with a different manager that I was wearing my mask because of my allergies. I was frustrated about that man all day, and I've already decided the next time somebody asks about my mask like that I'm telling them I'm hideously disfigured and they're touching on a tender subject.

[buckyarchives]

The Domestic Life Of Living With a Runaway Assassin [chapter one.]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x soulmate!reader

summary: you hate many things in life. You hate soulmates. You hate the avengers. You hate guns. You hate lost snorers and complicated relationships.

Bucky Barnes is associated with all of those things, yet you can find yourself hating him

W.c: 6.9k

Author note: did not think this was going to actually get notes. I forgot how bad my wiring was back then and going through and rewriting all of it is just. Ugh. I’m too lazy.

masterlist

Today was going down as the most inconvenient day ever. 

It was 10:30 pm, and you were sitting in some stupid coffee shop, the only one that had free Wi-Fii in your area because yours is down for the next 24 hours. The coffee tastes like shit because of-fucking-course it does. This place closes in 30 minutes and you have all that time to send in all your week's work to your boss, which is also due in 30 minutes. You weren't even going to think about the fact you spent all day having to listen to ongoing construction outside and having to run your roommate all around Queens to help her get comfy and organized at her dorm. 

You wanted to kick someone, honestly. 

As you tried your best to focus and very frantically type away at your keyboard. You were probably going to break your keyboard at some point tonight, either by typing too hard or just simply throwing it across the fucking room in a fit of rage. 

A woman, maybe in her mid-30s – if it matters, walks up to you and reminds you that the place closes in half an hour and gives you a free, pity coffee. Probably noticing the growing under eyes bags or seeing you yawn into your hand every 7 minutes, give or take. 

You had chugged the coffee and put everything you had into the next 20-something minutes and you sat back after your third look over everything to make sure you didn't miss any mistakes that could possibly get you fired. You were finally done and could go home. 

Closing your laptop and packing your shit up, you wave to the lovely lady probably waiting for you to leave so she can close up. But because nothing goes your way and New York is just the most wonderful place to live, especially with the avengers. You don't make it out the door before you hear rapid gunfire rattle your ears and suddenly you’re ducking beneath the first table you find. 

Your day could not get any worse, you thought.

Maybe you could have just crawled up in a ball and accepted your fate of being killed midst the 7th random gunfight of the month, you could even make it on the news! Nope, fate had other ideas and someone just has to save you. 

Your ears filter out everything besides the sound of gunfire, glass shattering, and people screaming and yelling. It's too fucking late for this. A firm hand grabs yours and before you can get whisked away and snatch your bag because your life is worth risking for your laptop and books. You swear you got whiplash from how fast you moved away from the scene, only seeing a black blur of a human in front of you. 

You regain your senses, most of them. After being pushed and crouched in a back alley behind the now-destroyed coffee shop, you hoped the lady was okay. catching your breath and hearing frantic shuffling next to you. A man, tall and built, dressed entirely in black with a plethora of weapons attached to his body. He glances at you for a moment and you think he looks familiar, maybe he was an Avenger. God, you hate the Avengers. His eyes continued to scan the dark area, before settling down next to you, eyes trained on one end of the ally. 

He has a messy mop of a head, you can't really see his eyes clearly but you definitely notice the insane-Robert-Pattinson's-batman-amounts of black eyeshadow around his eyes. He has a black mask on too. Okay, so edgy Avengers. Haven't heard of him on the news yet. Like you even watch the news. 

You must have been staring for a little too long and too hard because the mystery Avenger takes notice of it and his bushy eyebrows furrow at you, looking at you like you had personally offended him. Then, you notice his eyes and are a little, only a little, taken aback by their intense blueness and beauty of them. You barely notice what he says. “I'm sorry, you probably don't feel very safe with me.”

You scoff. “I don't even know who you are.”

The emo Avenger freezes and looks at you with wide eyes like you grew two heads. Or you were the crazy one between the two of you. “What?” you question him and he mumbled and sputtered under the mask. You motion for the mask, telling him to take it off. And he slowly rips it off his face, his very pink lips are parted and he's breathing hard and fast. 

“You.. what did you say, your words.”

Wait.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Your mouth falls open and you really want to kick something, or him. “You're my soulmate?” you said maybe a little too loud and it came out harsher than intended. He looks hurt by your tone and if it wasn't for the shock taking over your head, you would have felt bad. 

Today is the most inconvenient and the worst day of your life.

“Wow doll, you're the first person I've met that sounds disappointed to find their soulmate.” you ignore his comment and especially ignore the nickname, hoping that wouldn't stick. You wanted to go the fuck home. 

“Can I leave?”

Your soulmate narrowed his eyes at you. “No.”

“Why.” your eyes narrow back into his and just for a moment you realize you’re now in an impromptu staring contest with this man in some dirty back alley, hoping you don't get shot. “Listen, man, I have work tomorrow and I'd rather not get shot or dragged into some avengers bullshit.

He rolls his eyes, but you're not done. “I really don't like the Avengers. Seriously, you couldn't have chosen any other job? The number of cars I've seen the hulk throw and then miss–”

“I'm not an Avenger.” his bushy eyebrows furrow, plus the black war paint makes him look intimidating. If you weren't pissed,  you might have been a little scared. Only a little.

“You really don't know who I am?”

“Am I supposed to?” you fire back. The ego of this guy!

He sputtered for a moment, “No, I guess not.”

your back hits the brick wall, sigh to yourself, and slump back down. You made yourself small. Now nursing a monstrous headache.

A frustrated grunt comes from the dark brunette. “Ok, ok, ok, ok… I'm going to walk you home.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he says, you just realize you don't know his name. “You said it yourself, you don't want to get shot. I’ll make sure that you don’t.”

You were really tired, letting people win wasn't something you did often. You'll make an exception. You huff and blow some stray hair away from your face. “What's your name?”

He pauses, “Bucky.”

“Well, Bucky.” you bring yourself to your feet. “You bring me safely home, quickly with no little side quest. That's it. And then you turn around and don't come back to my place.” you grab a hold of his hand to drag him along but you're met with cold, hard, metal. He flinches out of his skin, and metal. Your eyes travel up his arm. 

“You’re an amputee?”

Bucky looks confused. “What?”

“Nevermind.” you shook your head and continued to drag him along to your apartment. You were so ready to go the fuck to bed. You hoped this walk home wasn't painful, but when do you get what you want?

Bucky was confused. Your pace matched his as you walked side by side to your apartment. The gentle wind brushed against his skin and flew through his brown locks. He was walking next to his soulmate. You were his soulmate and it seemed you wanted nothing to do with him. 

Bucky knew very well he was way out of his time but he couldn't come up with a coherent answer to why. Was this new generation against the universe? Was this some weird trend? Unless you lied to him and did know who the winter soldier was, that would make sense. But, you seemed pretty persistent that you did, in fact, not know him (which the more he thought about it– he felt good that you didn't know). You must not read the paper, or watch the news. You thought he was a goddamn avenger!

He glances over to you, your lips. You were chewing on your bottom lip. It was painted red. You look beautiful with the dim yellow street light shining down on your face. “Don't do that.”

Bucky's voice is soft and gentle. He doesn't recognize it.

Your eyes trail to him. “Do what?” you ask

“That.” Bucky pauses in his spot on the sidewalk, takes a few steps towards you and he brings his flesh hand up to your mouth, slowly grazing his thumb across your split lip. “Don't chew so hard on your lip like that. I'm sure it hurts.”

Bucky's eyes are trained onto your lips, he doesn't dare look up at your eyes. But you are staring at him with widened eyes. You felt like you were on fire.

Too close. You pull away. “Okay, this is my apartment. Bye, Bucky.” 

And just like that, you're quickly walking into your apartment lobby, you glance back at him and give Bucky a sincere smile before leaving his sights. Bucky stood there feeling like an idiot, completely forgetting any government or hydra issues he was dealing with earlier.

Bucky was going to walk away but his intrusive, no,  protective – as he would describe it – thoughts took over. He jogged to the other side of the building, hoping he would be able to figure out which apartment you lived in without going too far. He saw a light turn on and noticed a figure walking by, your figure. This wasn't stalking, no. Bucky was just making sure you made it to your home, safe and sound, he was just looking out for his soulmate. As he should. So, not stalking. And maybe, if bucky only really needed it, he would remember that window so he could pay you a visit. Not stalking you, he just cares about you. For some reason.

Bucky can hear Steve calling him a punk in the back of his head. He missed steve.

On the other end, you dragged yourself into your apartment and dropped your bag the moment you reached your room. Not caring to clean yourself up you flopped on your bed, with a long and painful groan. You felt a small weight down on your bed and you turned your head to see our cat sitting down next to your head. 

You smile and bring your hand to pet his head. “My savior. You are the only man I need.”

A soft purr vibrates from the felines, followed by a meow.

You sigh. “You're right. I need a shower.” 

Your mind wandered in the shower, as the water trickled down your body you couldn't help but bring your hand to your shoulder blade. Your finger traced around the words on your back. Your lip tug at your bottom lip. You nibbled at the already raw skin. Don't do that. You could practically feel the warmth of his hand on your face as your mind flashes back to when he was standing so close to you just moments ago. 

Bucky. There was no way you were going to let him haunt your head now. You turned the warm water off and grabbed your towel in annoyance. Drying yourself off and heading the fuck to bed. Praying that maybe when you wake up this whole day would be a dream. No soulmates, no getting shot at, and absolutely no getting flustered outside your apartment by someone you met an hour ago. 

–

 Bucky couldn't wait to see you again. He has been on the run from Hydra and Steve Rogers for too long; bucky had a hint on who would find him first. One night everything got to be too much. Parts of what hydra did to him are still very much a part of him, it was tearing him apart. It was getting harder and harder to diffrerencate what was bucky, the winter soldier, or this third feeling of pure absence of someone he didn’t know yet. He needed someone, anyone. He needed you.

You heard someone call for your name, they kept shaking you. You just wanted peaceful sleep goddamn it. You needed it. You rustled in your bed sheets, waving your hand at your roommate. She said your name again, and again, and again and ag–

“What!” you look over to see her, barely, in the dark of the room. “I'm trying to sleep!”

“There is someone in our living room.” she barely whispers.

Oh. “are you sure?” you squint at her. You don't know if she can even see you clearly enough.

“Yes.” another scared whisper.

What does a person around here have to do to get a full night's sleep for fuck sake? 

Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head. Pulling back the covers and throwing your phone at your roommate. “Call 911 if I scream or take longer than I should.” you grab the metal bat in the corner of your room.

 The fucker that decided to rob you tonight picked the wrong house, knowing the amount of pent-up rage you had; you were sure you could knock out fucking Capitan America if you wanted. Just imagine your boss's face. You sigh, loud and hard footsteps echoed through your apartment. Rounding a corner and pulling the bat high up and–

Cling!

You braced for impact. You don't get it. You look up at whoever, whatever you hit. “You!”

You are angrier than you were when interrupted from your sleep. What is he doing here? In the middle of your living room, at least he's not wearing his stupid, edgy superhero get-up. Just normal clothing and a baseball cap, but you could see the outline of a gun through his jacket. 

“Can you put the bat down?” Bucky’s holding the bat, stopping you from landing a hit to his head. 

“No. what are you doing in my living room.”

His face scrunches. Pulling the bat down and yanking it from your hands. That fake arm of his was stronger than you expected. Bucky lets out a pained sigh, “I don't know but will you just listen to me and not hit me, please?”

You feel bad. “Maybe.”

Bucky looks at you and you swear he looks like he’s going to cry. The moonlight shining through your windows makes his face look sharper, defining his features more. You think maybe this is a dream because he looks really good. Bucky looks at you like you are his whole world, or maybe you will be someday soon. “I just…”

You’re quiet, you listening to him. Bucky realizes that maybe he will cry tonight. “I just need to talk to someone, anyone. Be with someone right now or… or…” he trails off, not wanting to think about what else could happen.

you feel terrible. “Do you not have someone else than a soulmate you've only known for an hour?” you joke, but he looks at you like it's definitely not a joke. Bucky's eyes are trained on the floor as he shakes his head.

His head jerks up when your roommate walks into the room. “Do I still call 911?”

“No!.” you and bucky yelled at the same time. Eyes snapping to each other after the syllable left your mouth, eyebrows furrowed and spite heavy on your face. Whilst Bucky looked one wrong move away from a nervous breakdown. Weird dude.

You motion to your roommate to tell her to go back to bed but before you can get any words out she’s shoving past you to get too bucky. “Wait.. are you... I’ve seen you on the news.” her hand raises to her face to cover her gaping mouth. Her eyes go wide and she suddenly looks like a ghost. “Oh, my god.”

What the fuck. “Seriously, jasmine go back to bed and stop gawking at my soulmate.”

She shouts your name like your mother would when you started cussing. “You are not serious. Do you know who this is.” her pointer finger goes towards bucky aggressively. Bucky looks panicked, you wonder why but based on this mood earlier; it was best to ask questions later. It was time to play dutiful soulmate. 

“Look, jas.” you grab her by the shoulders. “I don’t know and I don’t care. Just go to bed, please?” you guide– no, drag her out of the room and give her a final nudge away, despite her weird shouts about a winter something. You couldn’t care to listen.

“I’m sorry about her. She gets paranoid.” you release a breath you forgot you were holding, followed by a plop of the couch. Bucky settles awkwardly next to you. “You really shouldn’t go breaking into people's houses, buck.”

Bucky gets whiplash at the nickname, his mind goes to Steve and suddenly he feels out of place. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, you barely hear him. “I should go, this was stupid.” Bucky goes to get up and head toward the fire escape again but you’re quick, grabbing his wrist. Bucky could have pulled away from you if he wanted, but he crumbled under your touch. Bucky holds his breath like he’s going to drown.

Bucky’s days kinda blend together. He likes routine, but there was no routine to have when you're doing what he does. You met him two weeks ago, it felt a lot more than that, or less. He couldn't tell but your touch made him feel like everything was so far away, he caught his breath for the first time in weeks. 

Bucky thought about spilling it all out, his past, his everything. But that would defeat the purpose of coming here. That talk could wait. “I'm sorry that you got me as a soulmate.”

You smack your lips and scoff. “As your body should say– uh, somewhere.” you wave your hands dramatically, “I don't even know who you are. Nothing to be sorry for, yet.”

His lip quirks up. “Except scare your roommate half to death.”

“Maybe wouldn't have happened if you used the doors.” you smile at him, Bucky’s sure he wouldn't be able to see it without the soft light of the moon shining on your face. And maybe it's just his super soldier-enhanced senses, either way, he’s soaking it up like it's the only time he’ll ever see it. 

“Doors aren’t really my thing.”

You scoff. “I'm not sure what that means but, at least go through my window next time.”

“Noted.”

“And knock!”

His lip quirk turns into a small grin. “Also noted.”

Bucky glances over at you, you’re biting your lip again. He wants to kiss you. He settles for pulling your chewed lip from under your teeth before it bleeds, just as he did that night outside your apartment. You smile, thinking that maybe you'll let him stay around for a while.

You realize that Bucky didn't walk you to your door that night, and didn't even make it inside the building. Your eyes furrow, and confusion and… amusement fills your body. “So did you stalk me the past few weeks or did you just kindly ask my landlord which unit I lived in?”

He pauses, hoping you wouldn't ask about that. “I wasn't stalking you, I just notice things.” 

You laugh out loud, and he's caught off guard by how nice it sounds ringing in his ears. “That's literally what a stalker would say.”

“I'm serious, I've been busy doing stuff these past weeks.” Bucky tried to reassure you he wasn't camping out on the roof of the building across your window like an actual stalker would. You haven't decided if you were going to believe him. You just laugh because you feel weirdly good with him in your presence. You curse to yourself, why did the universe always have to be right?

You don't care to respond so Bucky continues. “So you're not going to ask me about what your roommate was talking about.” he turns his head to look at you. He can practically see the gears turning in your head, and he gulps. 

You shake your head, eyes trained on whatever is in front of you. “Nah.” you look at him.

Bucky thinks you're the most interesting person he's met in a long time. He’ll test the waters. “What if I'm dangerous.” he narrows his eyes at you.

You narrow yours back at him. “If you're not going to kill me or you're not an avenger, I'm not too worried.”

“What do you have against the avengers?”

You groan. “It's a long story, but they are the reason I don't watch the news and why my roommate is a paranoid freak.”

Oh. so you really don't watch the news. Bucky thinks. He feels guilty when he feels a sort of relief go through his body, followed by more panic realizing he had to explain everything to you soon. Not now though, god no, not now. Maybe he could get by with not telling you at all. Bucky mentally punches himself in the face, no that wouldn't be right. Plus he was sure your roommate would babble to you about how badly the news painted him. Maybe him telling you first would be a better idea. 

“Have you ever heard of the winter soldier?”

-

The golden rays of the sun showed down onto Bucky's face, he looked over to the window hearing the loud bustling of city life below him. Your curtains are brown with white detailing. Bucky shifted on your living room couch, he gauges his mind for the memories of last night. Everything was still all so hazy. 

What day was it? Oh, last night. He tried, really, to get out the truth to you. Fumbling over his words and trying to even remember who he was, it was too much. But you, a god-given gift, told him he was too tired to talk, gave him water, and sent him off to bed on your couch. 

“You can give me your tragic backstory tomorrow, get some sleep weirdo.” you had said to him before literally pushing him onto your very comfortable couch, before returning to your room for the night.

Bucky didn't sleep, he felt oddly safe and comfortable. But he couldn't sleep. Honestly, he was close to dozing off before your roommate had woken up just before sunrise to quietly go off to work, he assumed. Bucky couldn't tell what time it was, he was guessing it was probably around 5 or 6 am. He ought to get up soon and leave. Should he leave without saying something to you? Is that rude? He was sure you'd be okay with getting him out of your hair, he was already enough of a problem to people around him. Bucky gets up to grab his boots.

“Did you even sleep?” Bucky flinches, confused as to how easy it was for you to sneak up on him. He looks up and sees you leaning against a wall, assuming you just woke up. You're still dressed in comfortable clothing, your sweater falling down, giving him a full view of your collarbone. Your skin glows in the soft sunlight. Bucky shook his head in response.

You hum, your feet shuffling across the wooden floor as you make your way into the kitchen. You start making your coffee and Bucky follows. His eyes go to the table, is he intruding if he just sits down? He stands in the doorway and watches you make your drink. You turn to bucky with an oversized mug in hand, deadpanned. “Can't believe I'm soulmates with a stalker. Sit down.” 

You motion to the seat next to you. “Not a stalker.” bucky mumbled, and you scoff.

“You want something to drink? I got tea, coffee, juice, anything your heart desires.”

Bucky pauses. “Water?” 

“Boring.” your eyes roll and you grab a bottle of water from behind you. Handing it to him, his finger brushes against yours. Bucky’s eyes dart to see your reaction, but nothing.

You get comfortable in your chair and open up your phone. Bucky is still sitting across from you, glancing between the door, window, and his water. He tries to look anywhere but at you. You quickly notice, a smart-ass comment comes to mind but you decide against it. Keeping the comfortable silence going for now.

You glance at Bucky, noticing the way his hair was still a mess from whatever he was doing last night. Quickly you realize this is the first time you've seen him in natural daylight, his eyes are beautiful and his usually dark hair looks closer to a light brunette. You could imagine going out on a date with him if he wasn't so dark and broody, but doesn't that just add to the appeal? Maybe.

You set your coffee down. “So…” trailing off, bucky finally makes eye contact with you. “You want to try again?”

Bucky's eyebrows furrow. 

“I still haven't told me who the winter soldier is and it's taking everything in me to not use the internet.” you wave your phone around in the air before setting it down next to your coffee. Bucky purses his lip. “But, I respect you and wouldn't do that.”

Bucky's eyes are trained on the table, his mind trying to find any starting point for this. Should he just tell you about hydra? Start from the beginning with the 40s, fuck, he barely remembers any of that. He's not good with words anymore.

“Can I just…” he pauses, tapping his finger on the wooden table. “Show you?”

It was a bad idea, a really bad idea. Bucky told you that but you'd instead not question him why, bucky wasn't going to elaborate on that either. With both Hydra, the US government, and Steve Rogers looking for him, being in public wasn't the safest. Especially at such a hotspot for Captain America bootlickers and history nerds. 

After many lazy complaints from you, you and bucky made your way out of your apartment together. Bucky wore the best casual disguise he could conjure up, and you and he stood in front of the Smithsonian museum.

Bucky glances over to you, a reasonably confused look plastered on your face. “Why are we at a museum?”

“Just follow me and don't draw attention to yourself, please?”

Instead, You roll your eyes and go ahead of him. “Stalker activity.” bucky hears you mumble before he follows you into the front door.

“What are you showing me, stalker.” bucky walks side by side with you, your presence is comforting in the crowded area. He noticed a group of elementary kids walking around, probably on a field trip.

“Stop calling me that.” he mumbled, “Captain America exhibit.”

Bucky looks at your hand, he could grab it. Only so he doesn't lose you in the crowd, just to keep you safe. Not because he wants to hold in, not because the quick graze of skin this morning left him wondering what it would feel like to hold you. Bucky decides against it and keeps walking.

“Isn't Captain America the like co-leader of the avengers or something?” you ask, bucky just shrugs? You see the large blown-up screens of steve roger and roll your eyes. 

Bucky's eyes lock on his memorial tribute. “Don't freak out and you can ask me questions after we leave.” 

Your face is littered with confusion again as you look at him, but you nod and turn to where he's looking at. 

“..Best friends since childhood, James ‘bucky’ Barnes and steven rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield…” the voice spoke, highlighting a memorial on bucky. Your eyes widen after realizing the bucky standing next to you was the one talked about.

Your eyes travel to the photos of Bucky. One standing next to Steve Rogers with big smiles plastered on their faces, and one of just him. His hair is shorter and he looks much younger. There is a shine in his eyes you don't see now, a bright look that hadn't been snuffed out yet. Bucky watches you as you process the information given to you, watching for any negative or even mad emotions. You lean closer, reading the sign. Bucky was from Brooklyn, a sergeant in the military, he had 3 sisters and he was born in 1917 and he died in 1945. Well, obviously he didn't actually die, more like presumed dead.

“That's…you?”

bucky nodded slowly, eyes trained on the photo of him. He couldn't even recognize himself anymore.

Bucky scans the area, looking for anyone that may have recognized him. he lets out a very shaky breath. “Okay, we've been here too long let's go.” he really wanted to grab your hand on the way out. You don't look at him on the way out. God, did he ruin this already? He wants to punch himself.

You both make it outside, the cold morning wind gives you whiplash. It feels good. You turn to look at bucky and he kinda looks like he's going to have a mental breakdown, you don't blame him. What you just saw explains so much yet, leaves you with more questions than before. You don't think. You grab his flesh hand in hopes of being some comfort, praying that it doesn't make it worse. It doesn't. Bucky doesn't flinch this time but feels his heart jump out of his chest. 

“Are you done with being outside or can we go somewhere?” bucky gives you a nervous and almost… pained look. “It's safe, hidden away and I know the owner,” you reassure him. Bucky reluctantly nods. I'll go anywhere with you as long as you keep holding my hand. And with that, you drag him through new york to your favorite-less-likely-to-get-shot-up coffee shop. It's small, always empty and the owner is an actual sweetheart. 

The bells ring as you waltz in, bucky very close behind you, still holding your hand like a lost child. “Gary! Honey I'm home!” you shout with a wide, playful grin on your face, bucky gives a sigh of relief after noticing that it was indeed empty today. 

An older man comes out from the back, along with a girl who looks like she should be in high school behind him. You wave and give him a warm smile, leaning over the counter slightly, “the usual, please?” you glance back to bucky, “.. and a water?”

You turn to bucky. “Sit anywhere, I”ll be right over in a second.” 

He hums, releasing him from your grasp and suddenly he feels a little empty and more awkward than before. He goes to the table in the farthest corner. Front door. Window. Back door. You. he checks off the list and settles against the wall.

You grin. “How’ve you been holding up, old man.” you tease. 

Gary, the owner. A wonderful and long-time friend of yours. When you first moved to new york years ago this was the first place you went to. You became a regular and you watches workers come and go, you came here when you needed quiet to work or sometimes just to snag a free drink from Gary since he just adored you so much. 

His niece, Emma, was in high school now and worked here for the past year. You would help her study during her breaks and in return, free coffee, and pastries. She was a good baker. You didn't have family here in the city so they were the closest you were going to get to anything like it.

“Not too much, dear.” Gary gave you a warm smile, his eyes squinting. He glances over at bucky in the corner. He laughs “Got a pretty paranoid date over there, I can see his eyes hitting all the exits.”

You scoff, not expecting any less from him. “Not a date, but sadly my soulmate.”

“Finally!” Gary’s eyes light up, and you give him an annoyed look. “Oh be happy about it! Emma won't stop nagging about how she hasn't found hers yet.”

“Have not!” you hear the girl shout from across the bar. You laugh and shake your head. 

Gary hands you your drinks and you bid him a quick bye, knowing he’ll just go back to his crossword puzzles in the back. Heading back over to sit next to bucky and hopefully find out he's not a zombie that's been raised from the dead.

“Your water, sergeant.” you joke, praying it doesn't hit a bad spot. Bucky was surprised by the name, he can't remember the last time someone called him that. His body feels weird.

You don't speak for a moment. You sip at your drink, hoping it will kick it as you didn't get your needed caffeine intake for the day as bucky was dragging you out the door to the museum.

You look at him through your eyelashes, he still looks like he's going to break down any second. 

“Are you a zombie?” 

“What?”

You set the cup down. “You died. So you must be a zombie. I can't believe I'm soulmates with a stalker zombie.”

Bucky's lip quirks up. You're such a dork, he thinks. He almost laughs, it more or less came out as an amused scoff. “I'm not a zombie, I didn't die.”

“Museums these days… always spreading fake information,” you mumble into your cup, taking a quick sip. Bucky smiles, slightly.

“No, I…” bucky trails off, you keep up with the jokes yet you give him a comforting, understanding look. “I fell off a train in the war, I was supposed to die.” bucky catches his breath, talking shouldn't be this hard. “I didn’t, Hydra found me and put me on ice.”

Your eyes perk up in understanding, “like Captain America, right? So why are you on the run then?” bucky looks down, and both of your hands are cupped around your drink. He wants to grab it.

“I'm not Captain America, I did a lot of bad things when Hydra had me. I killed…” Bucky trails off, and memories of Hydra came back to him. All he hears is the sound of guns, and all the blood, he can still smell it. The electricity buzzed in his head as Hydra did their best to strip everything from him, take everything out of him, and then put it back in. bucky can see it all.

You grab his hand and it stops, he just feels you. Your hands are so warm and he wants to cry suddenly. “You don't have to tell me, I do know about Hydra. They did fucked up shit, I know. I'm sure whatever you had to do, wasn't your fault.”

You lean in. too close. your hand raises to his face and you wipe away a stray tear. Had he been crying? 

Bucky lets out an unsteady breath. He can do this, you deserve an explanation. Bucky repeats in his head. He squeezes your hand gently. “They turned me into an assassin, they gave me a mission, and… I did it. I didnt know who I was before, but I didn’t... I didn’t know anything. I just knew my target.”

Your eyes are focused on him. “They had me on ice for most of it, like steve, that's why I don't remember anything. It's all so… foggy. I was sent on a mission and when I completed it I got put back under.”

“And when they needed me again, they'd just bring me back up again.”

“Like I was leftover food for them.”

You don't speak, you didnt dare to right now. Bucky's eyes were filled with anxiety as he watched you process the information. Your eyes fell, and you fiddled with your coffee cup. He saw you bite your lip again, he wanted to remind you not to. But the comment was lost in his throat. Bucky felt sick.

Say something. Please.

Your eyes glance at the silver metal shining between the cuff of his jacket and glove, something shines in your eyes, Bucky’s not quick enough to catch it before you're looking down again. Bucky is now convinced he ruined things on the first day of actually knowing you. He feels like he's going to throw up. Bucky is uncomfortable in his seat and suddenly the fresh warm air of the cafe makes him feel like he's suffocating. He goes to leave and never looks back, but your quicker this time. Grabbing his metal wrist before he gets the chance to stand. Bucky doesn't flinch this time.

“Buck, sit down.” you look at him now. “I don't hate you, calm down.”

He gulps. “You're scared of me though.”

“No.”

Bucky blinks at you, once, twice. “Why. I've killed so many-”

“Don't do that, bucky.” you shook your head at him. “Don't do that to yourself. I'm not dumb, you were a prisoner of war, a victim. You had no choice.”

A victim… he hadn't heard that word be used to describe him. 

Bucky's throat goes dry. His leg bounces under the table, he can't look at you. Bucky's eyes dart to the clock. Tick, tick, tick… the door. The other door. He feels trapped. 

You whisper, “bucky.”

Your name is the only thing that manages to escape Bucky’s lips. He sniffles, “Listen, I’m sor-”

“Hey, guys! Everything okay over here?”

 Emma's cheering voice interrupts Bucky, you both flinch back and your hand retracts from Bucky’s hand. He feels cold. Bucky's cold hand wipes away any extra tears left. You mumble a quick response, and a few thank you’s and she left a muffin in front of you. Bucky hears her footsteps receding. He should have heard her coming up, when did he get so useless? That could have been an enemy and, boom. He's dead. 

You push the blueberry muffin in front of bucky. “You like blueberries?” bucky looks at you, the muffin, back to you. Your lips are in a straight line, but your eyes are smiling. 

“Plums.”

You were caught off-guard. “What?”

“I like plums.”

You hum in response and split the muffin in two. One for you and one for bucky.

The next hour is mostly silent, bucky ordered a coffee of your recommendation. Well, more like you ordered it for him and guilt-tripped him into drinking it. It was sweet. You ordered another large cup and bucky takes a mental note to make you drink more water in the future. Your hands grasp your coffee and a book, he wants to hold it again. He wonders what it would feel like to hold you, all of you. 

He looks at the crossword puzzles you stole from the back for him. How could he possibly do a crossword puzzle when you're sitting in front of him? Bucky would glance up at you and he'd catch you looking at him, he looks away, and vice versa. Bucky is not shy, but sometimes he just gets nervous. How could you not? I mean, just look at you.

Your book falls from your grasp. “I don't want to intrude, but you are my stalker so I think I'm allowed to just a little.” bucky rolls his eyes. Your tone turns more serious  “Just tell me if I am intruding though…”

Bucky doesn't respond and lets you speak. You're hoping you are not going into a sensitive area. “How did you get out… is that why you're on the run?”

Bucky inhales sharply. His eyes flutter. A simple no was all he could push out. You don't know bucky well, but the look he's sporting is enough for you to stop asking any more questions. 

The clock reads 9:30. Shit.

“Fuck. work, I forgot about work.” you stand from your chair abruptly, the wooden chairs scraping against the floor. “I- we gotta go.”

I have nowhere to go, bucky thinks quickly. Before standing up with you, he doesn't say anything.

Grabbing both of your cups and chucking them in the trash, before returning the books to the counter. Bucky just stands there awkwardly, watching you. You notice and mumble a quick, “stalker” under your breath. Bucky pushes back a small grin. You gab his metal hand, covered by a glove, and push something into his hand. a key?

Bucky's eyebrows furrow but before he can get anything out. “You can't possibly think I’ll feel good knowing my soulmate is out on the run, probably sleeping behind some dumpster like a raccoon?”

“My roommate doesn't get home till tomorrow, and use the door his time!”

And with that, you’re speed-walking out, a soft jingle from the door as it closes. Bucky stands dumbfounded in the middle of the cafe as he blankly stares at the key in his gloved palm. His legs feel like jello. A soft cough from behind bucky brings him back to earth, it's the old man.

“Don't break their heart, I may be old and..” the old man, you said his name was Gary, looks bucky up and down. “...you may be big, but I'm sure I got a good right hook in here somewhere.”

Bucky feels warm and normal. Like he was a 15-year-old boy meeting his date's dad again. Bucky nods.

“I promise I will keep ‘em safe.”

tag list; @i-l-y-3000 @ivywasmaroon @waywardcrow @alana4610 @ozwriterchick @slytherinambitious @wintermischief

[drinkyourvillainjuice]

grumbles about tumblr not wanting me to post something again

(these were all showerthoughts, literally)

prefacing this saying all of this is me throwing my brainstorming at you because otherwise it's gonna live rent-free in my head. No expectation that you actually implement any of this, especially if it's inconvenient or would be difficult to code or otherwise wouldn't fit well in the IF.

1. Someone asked at some point (either here or on the COG forum, idr) if we could choose for Dime to have all 4 of the juice appearance traits, and you said having a multiple-selection menu there wouldn't have the same "punch"/would feel like an interruption. Would it be possible to add a menu for this in the stats page that unlocks after we pick Dime's juice appearance trait ingame? 2. On a related note, can we have more interactions/mentions of other characters' reactions to pallid eyes Dime? It's a very noticeable trait but I haven't seen much response to it ingame 3. Bit of a specific one, for nodes!Dime; this one would probably be the most work out of everything I've suggested so far, and I don't know how many people would find it useful, so no worries if you don't implement it. Would it be feasible to add a toggle into the stats menu that modifies how Dime produces/reabsorbs(?) the nodes? If toggled off (default), no change, but if toggled on, it swaps out the nodes' text to be along the lines of Dime producing the nodes by tearing off chunks of their membrane/tendrils/etc that then become independent, and the nodes returning into Dime's body by kinda being "subsumed" into the rest of their membrane, or something? I love the nodes and I want to play more with them, but Dime producing them by vomiting them back up and then having to choke them back down again is a bit much for me- mostly brought this one up in case it would be helpful to anyone else with a similar issue. 4. Speaking of nodes, it would be kinda cute if they were mentioned as forming a clot to keep Dime from bleeding out after becoming Saint Paradigm- instead of the membrane clotting up, it's just a hole full of upset flesh lumps doing their very best to keep all of Dime's blood and ichor where it's supposed to be :P

Hm. I dunno. That'd technically work, I just sort of want to do specific things/references at certain points and I guess it just doesn't feel quite right including an 'all of the above' ?

Oh, right! Yeah so - I've been a little low on the reactivity with certain features so far. The eyes thing was actually intentional because essentially you have a team where two members look very unusual (Kay, Teddie), one is living with those two (Wil) and a fifth can change their appearance for fun (Mal). They mostly wouldn't get that bothered by it, basically. That said I've just left a note for myself to at least have a dialogue choice to say something similar to the "just thinking about how we match" to Kay regarding having weird eyes.

This may be doable! It'd be a chunk of work but I do like the idea of including a toggle like that because I know the nodes are really quite extreme.

That's cute. I've made a note about that.

Just in general regarding people's suggestions: there are a few things I like the idea of a lot and some of those are less feasible to implement than others. Even for stuff I do want to add I'm trying to hold off the urge to tinker because I don't wanna get bogged down on refinements when I'm still in first draft, and anything I change I need to make sure then keeps continuity with everything else.

So I definitely want to add things and tidy other stuff up, I'm just keeping myself from editing too heavily as I'm already susceptible to rabbit holes. Such as current dialogue tree I'm working on, which was intended to be a short and sweet thing and has blown up into a little interaction scene per teammate.

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 30 - "Creature Comforts" (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

A wholesome one for today's @whumptober fic

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Prompt Used: Borrowed Cloathing Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 Characters: Team Bucciarati

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Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~

1: Abbacchio

Bruno Bucciarati had seen a lot of desperate men in his line of work, but few who looked as depressing as Leone Abbacchio, standing in the foyer of his apartment, soaked to the skin and dripping like a stray cat.

"You can shower if you'd like—there might still be hot water this time of night," Bruno told him, tucking the umbrella beside the door. "I'll find you something dry to wear."

The man shook himself and nodded, taking a hesitant step toward the bathroom door as Bucciarati pointed it out.

One he had provided him with a towel and showed him how the shower worked, Bruno hurried to his room and tried to find something for their guest to wear that might actually fit—Fugo definitely wouldn't have anything.

Bruno sighed, rummaging through his drawers, pulling out a pair of sweat pants that were slightly long on him and a plain t-shirt.

It was then he found the lump in the back of his drawer, fingers tangling in soft knitted cables. He hesitated slightly, but pulled the sweater out, holding it up. It was still definitely too big for Bruno, always had been.

Part of him wanted to put it back in the drawer and keep it for himself, but his father had also instilled in him the importance of helping those in need. So, Bruno would pass it on to someone more in need than him.

When he heard the water turn off in the bathroom, he knocked on the door. "I'm leaving some clothes out here for you. You can come to the kitchen when you're done and I'll get you something to eat."

He set the stack of clothing down and headed to the kitchen to start making some coffee. Even he was chilled after being out that night and he'd remembered the umbrella.

It was a few more minutes before Abbacchio showed up with wet hair and the too-short sweatpants. The sweater however—a dark blue wool with chunky cabling down the front and an open ribbed collar—fit him just about right. If not slightly long in the sleeves.

"Can I get you some coffee?" Bruno asked.

Abbacchio winced, still standing there as if unsure of what to do. "I—thanks, sure," he mumbled. "Thanks for the clothes too. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"It's not a problem," Bruno assured him as he went to fill a cup. "Cream or sugar?"

Abbacchio shook his head. Bruno set the cup on the table, urging him to sit down. Abbacchio took a hesitant step before he finally took a seat, tugging at the sweater. "This is really nice, I'll get it back to you once I can get back to my apartment tomorrow."

Bruno hesitated, but finally waved his hand. "Keep it. It was always too big on me anyway, and I'm sure you could use some warmer clothes? Besides, wool keeps you warm even when its wet So if you forget an umbrella again…"

Abbacchio looked up at him with some confusion for a long moment before he pulled the cup of coffee closer and took a sip. "Okay then. Thanks. I appreciate it."

Bruno smiled back and decided he was glad that the sweater would finally get some use.

2. Fugo

It had been a long stakeout in the cold. Stealth had prohibited them from turning the heater on in the car, and Abbacchio felt pretty terrible seeing just how much Fugo was shivering by the time they finished, the drive home with the heater on full blast hadn't even been enough to thaw either of them out.

Not to mention that their heater wasn't functioning fantastically in the apartment either, so it wasn't much warmer there.

"I'll make some tea, you should go get something warm on," Abbacchio told the kid worriedly. Fugo was so skinny that Abbacchio was afraid he might catch cold—though he would never say that to Fugo's face unless he wanted his nose broken.

He went to throw on a sweatshirt and thick socks before he started boiling some water.

Fugo showed up in a few minutes, still shivering, in a long-sleeved shirt with a thin cardigan over it and a pair of sweat pants.

Abbacchio eyed him briefly, but didn't want to embarrass the kid by asking him if he was warm enough. He simply took out two mugs and some tea bags and poured the water over them when it started to boil.

"Want to work on the report together?" Abbacchio asked him.

"Sure," Fugo replied, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. He went to get paper and pen and Abbacchio sat down with his notebook where he had written down observations and snatches of conversation that night.

The tea worked to warm Abbacchio's core and he got to work compiling info with Fugo for their report.

He reached for a pen at the same time Fugo reached for his tea and Abbacchio's hand brushed his, feeling like ice.

"Jesus, kid," he hissed, pulling his hand away sharply. "You're actually freezing!"

Fugo glowered, hunching his shoulders as he pulled his hands back and clasped them around his mug, still shaking every once in a while. "It is freezing in here, you know."

"Don't you have anything warmer to wear?" Abbacchio asked genuinely.

"Nothing comfortable," Fugo huffed. "Just my overcoat."

Abbacchio frowned and stood up. "Hold on, I'll be back."

He went to rummage around in his closet, trying to find something warm for Fugo to wear. That was when he spotted the dark blue sweater. He'd almost forgotten about it—the one Bucciarati had given him the first night he'd dragged him back to this apartment. That would be warm enough.

Abbacchio brought it back out and handed it over to Fugo. "Here, try this."

Fugo took the sweater, looking somewhat embarrassed, but he tugged it on and pushed the sleeves up over his hands. Abbacchio watched as his shivering finally stopped all together and Fugo let out a soft sigh of relief. "Thanks. That is better."

"No problem," Abbacchio replied and nodded to the sweater. "You can keep that too, it was just something Bucciarati gave me. You'll need it if the heater doesn't get fixed soon."

Fugo offered a very small smile, huddling into the sweater as they continued with their work.

3. Narancia

"I'm…so sorry."

"Just shut up," Fugo snapped, feeling mud squelch in his shoes—they were probably ruined by now. But at least the mud had been relegated to his lower half. Narancia was practically covered in it. He didn't even realize you could find that much mud within the city limits but any calamity seemed possible with their new recruit around.

He fumbled his keys out of his pocket and opened the apartment up, cringing at the thought of all the mud they were about to track inside. The car was already a disaster.

"Just don't touch anything you don't have to," Fugo muttered.

Narancia tip-toed delicately into the apartment after ditching his shoes by the door.

"Probably the best thing is to dump the muddy clothes into the bathtub so we can rinse them out before putting them into the washing machine," Fugo said.

"Uh, yeah okay," Narancia replied. "But, um, problem—I don't have anything else to wear. I left my wash in the washing machine and I only have my pajamas pants.

Fugo sighed tiredly. "Just…throw your stuff into the tub and I'll loan you something to wear."

Narancia perked up and Fugo hurried to dump his clothes in the bathroom, washing briefly before grabbing a towel to wrap around himself to go find something clean to wear.

He dressed quickly, hearing Narancia swearing as he struggled with his mud-covered clothes then turned with a sigh to his dresser, digging around for something Narancia could wear.

A bundle of dark wool caught his eye and he pulled the sweater out, remembering how Abbacchio had given it to him when he had been freezing that one night. It had kept him warm through the winter, but he could do with passing it on now, especially since Narancia really didn't have that many clothes.

He grabbed a pair of his sweatpants as well and set the neatly folded pile outside the bathroom door.

"Clothes are outside," he said before going to make a call to Bucciarati to tell him the mission was finished.

He was just grabbing the laundry basket in prep to take the clothes down to the washers when Narancia reappeared, practically swimming in the sweater, sleeves slipping down over his hands. But he was grinning, waving the floppy sleeves around.

"Dude this is so cozy! Thanks for loaning it to me."

"Oh, you can keep it actually," Fugo replied. "Abbacchio gave it to me so…it's not really mine."

"Really? Thanks man!" Narancia hurried off as Fugo yelled at his back.

"Narancia get back here! You have to go finish your own laundry—I'm not going to do it for you!"

Narancia hurried back and grabbed the basket from Fugo. "Yeah, yeah, I'll meet you down there."

Fugo shook his head and went to gather the muddy stuff before he realized Narancia had run off with the laundry basket.

4. Mista

Narancia wasn't entirely sure what to think of the new guy yet. He'd been nice enough if not a little out of place with all of them, and Narancia didn't exactly understand why he hated the number 4 so much but he wasn't one to judge.

Still, Guido Mista had a habit of moping around when he wasn't given a task. Narancia could understand that. He'd been the same after getting out of prison. It was hard to adjust back to normal living when you'd had your days so regimented for a long time.

Narancia was currently relegated to the apartment due to a minor injury and that day it was just him and Mista there. The new recruit puttered around in the kitchen getting coffee for a while in the morning before he sat on the old couch in the living room, staring at the wall.

It was…kind of driving Narancia nuts. He didn't understand how someone could sit still like that doing nothing. At least Fugo was usually reading, he could understand that; even if reading didn't keep Narancia's attention for long, it was still doing something.

He didn't want to be annoying, but he poked his head into the living room.

"Hey, um, can I do anything for you?"

Mista looked up. "Nah. I'm good."

Narancia fidgeted. "Aren't you like…bored?"

Mista shrugged. "I don't know. It's just nice to be out of prison." He stood up. "I guess I'd like to take a shower though."

Narancia nodded and went to make lunch as he heard the shower running. Mista returned when he was halfway through eating in just his pajama bottoms and a towel slung over his shoulders.

"Hey, um…I still need to go shopping for some new clothes. Could I borrow some change so I can do a wash?"

"Oh sure," Narancia said quickly and pointed over to a jar on the counter. "Bucciarati keeps that for laundry and stuff."

"Thanks." Mista said and hurried out of the apartment.

Narancia thought about what he had said, and got up to head to his room. He grabbed a box of VHS tapes from under his bed and rummaged in his drawer until he found the oversized sweater he was looking for.

When Mista returned, Narancia tossed him the sweater.

"Here! You can have this for now," he said.

Mista held the sweater up, surprised. "Oh, hey, thanks man. I really appreciate it."

He slipped it on, tugging it down. "This is really nice. You sure you want me to have this?"

Narancia nodded. "It kinda gets passed around between us. You can use it for as long as you want. But only if you answer a question."

Mista cocked an eyebrow as Narancia presented the box he had been holding under his arm. "Do you like movies?"

Mista's face lit up. "I love movies! Hey, you got some great stuff in here!"

"Then let's watch something! Then you don't have to just sit around doing nothing all day," Narancia said. "Pick whatever you want, I'll grab some snacks."

They spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies and chatting and Narancia thought that he and the new guy were probably going to get along really well.

5. Giorno

Mista roamed the safehouse after everyone had gone to sleep, making sure everyone was okay. He checked in on Narancia last, but the kid was sleeping soundly, knocked out from pain pills and exhausted from his still-healing body. He'd been able to leave their makeshift infirmary yesterday though so he was doing a lot better.

Speaking of…

Mista headed down the stairs to the guest room they had made into their designated infirmary while their teammates were recovering. Bucciarati and Abbacchio were still usually unconscious and hooked up to IVs aside from a few times they had woken.

Giorno was sitting beside Bucciarati's bed as Mista figured he would be. The blond had been watching tirelessly since they had gotten to the house three days ago and had barely left the room.

He looked up briefly as Mista poked his head in.

"Hey, can I get you anything?"

Giorno shook his head, reaching up to rub his face. "No. I'm okay."

Mista nodded slowly, taking in Giorno's exhausted frame. "You really should sleep. They'll be okay for the night. They're stable, right?"

"Yeah, I just…" Giorno sighed, before he finally stood up. "Maybe you're right. I'll catch a couple hours on the couch."

Mista frowned as Giorno passed him, noticing that he was still wearing the same lavender suit he had been wearing the whole mission. It had the look of being washed, water thinned bloodstains visible around a couple tears, but Mista realized he'd never seen Giorno put on anything else.

"Hey, um…you want me to wash and fix that suit?" Mista asked. "I think there's a sewing kit somewhere. At least until you can get a new one?"

Giorno looked down at the suit. "I, um…I don't really have anything else to wear."

"Oh." Mista blinked and then realized Giorno hadn't brought so much as a backpack with him. "Hey, I'm sorry man, I should have asked earlier."

Giorno shrugged. "It's not really a big deal. I'll get something soon."

"No way, you need to be comfortable. Stay here, I'll be right back."

Mista hurried up to his room and dug through his duffle bag until he found—ah, there it was.

He took the bundled sweater and a pair of sweatpants down to Giorno, dropping them into his arms.

"Keep these. I've got more changes of clothes."

Giorno smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Mista. I really appreciate it."

Mista gave him a salute and a grin. "Anytime. How about I make you a cup of tea? I was just gonna get one myself."

"Sure."

Mista headed to the kitchen and by the time he got to the living room Giorno was curled on the couch, bundled into the big sweater, fast asleep.

Mista chuckled and set Giorno's mug down on the coffee table before throwing a blanket over him.

"Sleep well, GioGio."

6. Trish

Giorno was up late reading one night when he heard the back patio door open and shut. It was right below his bedroom and he had his window open. He figured someone might just be getting some fresh air, but then he heard the soft, unmistakable sounds of someone crying and frowned, getting up to go see what might be wrong.

He pulled on the heavy sweater Mista had given him and padded downstairs and toward the back of the house.

Through the glass door he could see Trish huddled on the steps leading into the garden, shoulders shaking. Giorno hesitated a second, not sure if he would be intruding or not, but he ultimately decided that Trish shouldn't have to be alone if she was upset and if it turned out she really wanted him to leave, he would go.

He stepped outside, the sound of the door opening causing Trish to turn around, hurriedly wiping her eyes.

"Oh, hey," she said quietly.

Giorno silently went to sit next to her. "Hey. Are you okay?" he asked.

Trish looked away, wrapping her arms around herself. "I…I guess."

"If you don't mind me saying so, you don't really look okay," Giorno responded. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Trish took a shuddering breath and scrubbed a hand against her wet eyes. "It's just…Now that everything's settled down it's kind of hitting me, you know? That I'm not going home—that I don't even have a home anymore."

"I know it's a lot," Giorno said quietly. "I didn't…really have anything to leave, but I can understand how you must feel, being forced to leave everything."

Trish sniffed. "And I miss my mom. I didn't even really have the time to mourn her, so…I guess it's all hitting now, three months later."

She curled around herself, shaking slightly, breath hitching.

Giorno didn't know if she was cold or not, but the weight of the sweater was comforting to him so he tugged it off and looped it over Trish's head.

She looked up in surprise, before a small smile turned up one corner of her lips as she sniffed. "Thanks." She tucked her arms into the sleeves, letting them fall past her hands as she dabbed her eyes on the sweater.

"I'm sorry about your mother," Giorno told her quietly. "But you're wrong, you know."

Trish sniffed again. "About what?" she asked sounding slightly offended.

"That you don't have a home," Giorno replied, nodding back to the house. "This is your home. It's all of our home, and you never need to go anywhere else unless you want to."

Trish looked at him for a long moment, eyes wavering, before she simply leaned forward and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"Giorno that's…that's such a sweet thing to say," she said shakily.

Giorno smiled, hugging her back, letting her cry for a few more minutes before she pulled away and wiped at her eyes again.

"Thank you, that…I feel better now," she said.

"I'm glad," Giorno replied. "I'm always here to talk if you need."

"I appreciate it," Trish said as she stood. "Thanks for letting me borrow the sweater too. It's…really comforting."

Giorno waved his hand as he also stood. "Keep it for now. Mista gave it to me when we first got here, but you should use it now."

Trish smiled with a grateful blush and waved to him as they got inside. "Good night, Giorno. And thanks again."

"Good night, Trish."

7. Bucciarati

Trish was having a hard time sleeping that night and decided to run down to the library to grab something to read.

She had thought everyone had already gone to bed, so she was surprised to find Bucciarati sitting in there in the middle of the floor in his pajamas, a box of photos open and spread in front of him.

He startled as she walked in and Trish stopped.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were up."

A look passed over his face and Bucciarati cleared his throat and said, "It's okay. Can't sleep?"

Trish shook her head, feeling a little like she was intruding as she cautiously stepped into the room. "Not really. You either?"

Bruno gave her a small, sad smile. "Just…looking through some old memories."

Curious, Trish came over and knelt beside him. "May I?"

Bruno waved a hand and Trish picked up a picture of a young boy holding a large fish up proudly. His black hair and blue eyes told Trish that it was obviously the man beside her.

"This was you?" she asked with a smile. "You were adorable!"

Bruno let out a light laugh. "Thank you. It was… a long time ago. I…haven't looked at these for a while but…"

There was a weight to his words and Trish watched him carefully, finally realizing that his eyes were slightly red, the lashes damp as if he had been crying.

"Bucciarati? Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

He cleared his throat again. "I'll be okay, Trish. I…it's been four years today since he died. I just thought…I would take a moment to remember him."

"Oh, Bucciarati, I didn't know," Trish said softly, reaching out to take his hand, squeezing.

"I usually keep it to myself," Bruno replied simply.

Trish was silent, wondering if he wanted to be alone, but, she thought about how she felt when she remembered her mom. How alone it felt. And it was too sad to think of going to bed when Bucciarati was sitting here alone with the pictures of his past.

"Would it…be okay if I stayed here to look at the pictures with you?" Trish asked hesitantly. "Unless you'd rather be alone."

"I wouldn't actually," Bucciarati replied, voice slightly raw.

Trish felt a little relieved, but stood. "Okay, I'll be right back, I promise."

She hurried away to make some hot chocolate, and as an afterthought, ran to get the sweater Giorno had loaned her a while back when had had found her crying. She always put it on when she was feeling bad now and thought that maybe it would comfort Bucciarati too.

She brought the items back to the library and Bucciarati looked up in surprise.

"I made hot chocolate—thought you could use some," she told him with a small smile, setting down the mugs before holding out the sweater. "And this. It's so warm and cozy it…"

She trailed off at the look on Bruno's face when he saw the sweater, eyes wide, mouth parted as if in awe.

"Bucciarati?"

He reached out to take it from her, holding it carefully in his hands, fingers curling into the chunky knitting.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Um…well, Giorno gave it to me, he said Mista gave it to him before that."

Bruno laughed lightly, eyes wet. "And I gave it to Abbacchio a long time ago." He turned to Trish with a small smile. "It was my father's. I had…actually forgotten about it but it seems to have made its way through the team somehow."

"And back to you," Trish replied. "Where it should be."

Bruno slowly tugged the sweater on over his t-shirt, running his fingers over the hem, eyes full of nostalgia. "Funny how things have a way of coming full circle when it means the most." He turned back to her, eyes wet. "Thank you, Trish."

Trish couldn't help herself and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly in the comfy sweater. "I'm glad it came back to you when you needed it most," she told him.

"It did. But anyone is welcome to borrow it at any time," Bruno said. "Perhaps it's best that it belongs to all of us." He smiled "I think that's what my father would have wanted."

Trish hugged him more firmly and genuinely felt at home.

~~~~~~~

Check out my Whumptober Masterpost HERE for more stories!

If you want to follow me on other social media or ask about fic or art commissions, find my info on My Carrd

[haven-is-happy]

How Battle Changes: Don't Eat That!

Chapter 7

Pairing: Dogma x Jedi!reader, platonic Wolfpack,

Chapter description: A politician's dinner is rarely without consequences

Warnings: !!!unhealthy eating habits!!!, reader has very little mental health stability, angst, reader is at their breaking point

Wordcount: 2,3 k

Masterlist

Somewhere along the line, your statements went from “mildly controversial” to “assassination worthy”.

You’re not sure when exactly that happened. You don’t care. It just means you are focusing on the right thing, pissing off the people who should be exposed the most. 

The thought should be frightening.

Key word: should.

“It’s times like these that I think about my parents. My birth parents, not the parental figures of the caretakers and creche masters at the Jedi Temple. Are they still alive? Was I welcome in their family? Did they wait with bated breath until a child came, tears of joy when I first screamed my lungs out to signal I am breathing and healthy and then reluctantly given with tears to the Jedi? Or was I an intrusion, an accident, an inconvenience they gave away with a sigh of relief?” 

Another scripted speech. You poured your heart out during the nights between senate meetings, because the tears that filled your eyes when you allowed yourself to ask these questions are unbecoming of a public representative.

You basically threatened your way into the senate as a representative of the clones and jedi who wish to leave the rigidity of the places they were raised in. Threatened, not elected.

You bought your presence in the chamber by keeping silent about the carnage Krell was allowed to go on, even before Umbara, keeping silent about the Senate's knowledge about the Malevolence, long before it was discovered by your former master Plo.

No tears. No weaknesses. They will tear you apart.

And so the speech continues as you swallow the most likely answer. It burns on the way down. It might burn on the way back up after you permit yourself to throw it up from stress in the “comfort” of your home.

You’ve researched. You know the sector where you most likely came from, now deep in Separatist territory, being the place of several battles at the start of the War.

“I may never know, as the Jedi Master who brought me to the temple is dead. She died on Geonosis and took dozens of secret parentages of padawans, knights and younglings to her grave. At her pyre I cried for the small child not yet outside their cradle that might never know if those that bore them love them.”

You take a steadying breath. Those wonders have long since passed.

“Perhaps it is better not knowing.”

The Senate is deadly silent to your face, but you know there are mute conversations happening in hand signals across the expansive chamber. Their auras betray even the slightest change of emotions. The colours shift and bleed into another as information is passed.

Seems like they have forgotten you can read them better than an open book.

“I know how many of you feel,” you keep a second-too-long break between the words with an emphasis, “about the Order’s practices around recruiting. The truth is the parents get a choice, having both options explained clearly as day. Give the child away so it may prosper as a part of the Order, with the promise that one day the child will be given a way to contact them, or keep the child and face the difficulties of a force-sensitive toddler reigning chaos.”

Expertly, the diplomatic skill taught at the temple made you slot a joke after threatening your audience in not-so-subtle ways. The clueless laugh. The knowing shudder.

You do not want to be seen as cruel. 

But if you aren’t, it leaves room for argument.

Next to you, Dogma checks his comm. 

The several months of being your guard didn’t change his face one bit. The v-shaped pattern fits well on his face, accentuated by the widow's peak he keeps his hair in. His eyes scan each individual senate-pod in his field of vision, then flick over to you. You have to remind yourself you’re in the force-damned Senate chamber in front of thousands of influential people to stop yourself from lovingly brushing a hand over his cheek.

His armour has been repainted in vibrant colours. The helmet is forgone entirely to show him being proud of being a clone. Jesse next to him is an even more stark reminder, with the republic cog tattooed onto his face.

The tactic is genius. You’ll have to thank Fives for coming up with that.

“The truth is, the vague feeling of my birth parents is no longer even a memory. Can one miss a vague shape in the back of your mind? When you can’t articulate yourself in childhood, maybe, but as an adult, it is but a shape you will gradually forget with age.”

“Clones, however, never had that shape. Many of us have a warm feeling as the first memory of our parents. Being held, coddled and even loved. But the clones didn’t get that luxury. Forgive me for being a cynic, but if you have a problem with the Order’s practices of child-kidnapping - as I heard many put it - why are you not fighting for the clones to have an equal privilege to childhood?”

Your voice rings powerful and accusatory through the full auditorium. You sweep your eyes over the people at your eye level and below, before solidly locking them where Bail Organa stands in his senator-pod. He sends a nod.

Dogma next to you makes a very quiet sound, pitched low just enough for you and only you to hear. He clicks his tongue once, then pauses, and then clicks again.

A signal for news from the Wolfpack. Thank the Force your speech and time at the proverbial stand is coming to an end.

The entire interaction takes no more than three seconds. An uncomfortable silence to marinate most careless Senators in the implications you’ve made.

“My childhood was cut short after the hostilities on Naboo. I had to undergo more rigorous saber training, even as an empath, someone attuned to the living Force around us. A shadow warrior - a Sith of a lineage long-lost - stole any ability to live as a simple aura reader diplomat.”

“And yet that’s not even a fraction of the cruelty and hardship an average clone trooper goes through in a third of the time. As soon as they walk, they are taught combat. They rapidly age, Corellian Hells, THE OLDEST CLONES ARE THIRTEEN YEARS OLD!”

Your frustration poured out into the air around you. This is the closest you have gotten to yelling and losing your cool since you walked out of the Court Chamber at Dogma’s trial. You have no doubt that at least some of the senators or their aides must have a fraction of force sensitivity, at least enough to glimpse the carefully-masked rage you don’t let the average person see.

You lock eyes with the Chancellor on his high seat, the senator-pod that hovers in the centre of the chamber.

You stare at him with intensity unknown to an individual outside of the Jedi Order. Memories flick through your vision, a slideshow of your frustrations at the Senate, frustration shared by the Jedi Council, by your father Plo, by the Clones that have welcomed you into their dysfunctional humongous family.

The Chancellor smiles.

The dinner after resembles a blur of colours too bright to be real.

You barely eat. The worry of poison and backstabbing are ever present, loom over your figure like a mountain. You prod at the force to give you readings of everyone around you, even if they are in your eyesight for a fraction of a second. 

The auras are overwhelming. Despite diplomats being taught to never let emotion show on their face, the different hues bleed into their body language.

One can only hide their true nature for so long, you suppose.

You’re sitting at the head of the table for dinner, the centre of attention as usual. As the minutes tick by, it’s become more and more likely that this will not end well. The jabs and replies thrown at one another have a sickly-sweet tone, with oleander-filled honey dripping as they fly at their target. 

 Dogma and Jesse stand behind you, each on one side as your guards. No matter how many times you try to convince them to eat with you, they insist.

“The life of a senator isn’t for me, but I still want to keep you safe” has been the reply from Jesse each time. Fives is just glad you never asked him, letting him instead stay at your apartment for these drab meetings disguised as dinners.

And your sweet Dogma would follow you to the ends of the Galaxy.

“I suppose if the children had more contact with their parents after getting accepted into the order, they would be able to form healthy attachments, as opposed to having no attachments altogether,” you say to a Nautolan representative sitting half across the table. 

She narrows her eyes and nods, pausing to eat a bite out of her meal. “A friend of mine lost her son to the Jedi three decades ago. She still wonders why he never contacted her.”

Dogma searches in his memory. The only nautolan jedi he has heard of is Kit Fisto. It would perhaps fit the description of a son lost thirty years ago. He stores it as something to ask you about.

A mikkian senator sitting to your left looks over at your plate. The longer the supper goes on, the more apparent it is that you are not touching your food. The senator, some generation or two older than you, looks you over a bit before lowering his voice, so that only you and (unintentionally) Dogma can make out his words.

“Deary, you have not touched your meal. I sure do hope this affair has not sullied your appetite.” He adds a smile at the end of his statement, as if to deepen the few wrinkles his face has to make himself the caring older relative.

Your attention snaps to his face briefly, enough to not notice one of his head-tendrils outside your field of vision to twitch in the general direction of your plate. Had Dogma not been inadvertently alerted to his figure, he wouldn’t have noticed the tiny amount of clear, water-like liquid that flew off the tip of his head-tendril and landed at the edge of your plate.

He reacts before his brain catches up to his eyes.

“Don’t eat that!”

His yell makes the entire table stop whatever they are doing to look at him. 

“The food is poisoned!”

His aura flashes red with swirls of white. The mix of danger.

Jesse sweeps the room over in less than a millisecond and directs his gaze at your food. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but he trusts his brother with your safety above all. He takes a half-step closer towards the table.

You strategically stand up slowly and turn to Dogma. “How do you know?”

“The mikkian senator flicked some liquid into it with his head-tendril.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the whole room shift. Colours turn muted and tinged with yellow, orange and black.

The aura of the person in question turns a stark black. Fear.

“Impossible! I have done no such thing, clone!” he barks out and gets to his feet abruptly, nearly throwing his chair back.

Jesse, who has so far been stone-cold, willing to not react unless necessary, calmly looks him boldly in his eyes, an act that would have had consequences if he was in the GAR.

“You should know that ambassador (Y/N) can tell if you’re lying,” his tone is even and calculated.

“Of course I know that! That’s because I’m not lying.”

The old man is adamant, even if his eyes widen a fraction.

Your eyes flick over the room and land on a tray in the corner, on a table reserved for decorational flowers.

The tray floats over as the uncomfortable silence settles over the room. Some of the dinner’s participants notice it and gasp, making the others stare in horror as the tray lands in front of you.

You vaguely feel the presence of three Coruscant Guards running down the hall. By the time you land a metal food cover over the plate, they slam the door of the dining room open. 

Jesse and Dogma exchange a nod and Dogma nods. Jesse walks out to meet one of the troopers to exchange words.  You barely hear the words they whisper, but “poison” and “food” must be at least a part of the conversation. Dogma stays right behind you with a hand on his blaster. You don’t even have to turn to feel his anxiousness.

On instinct, you reach out with the hand that isn’t holding the tray in the air to grip the senator by the wrist with the Force. You press harder and hear something drop to the floor, an item no longer held in an iron grip he had on it. The noises of protests fall upon your deaf ears.

A guard moves in to handcuff the old man, only to notice a blaster on the floor and feel resistance while he moves one of the wrists into the cuffs. The item he dropped.

Jesse, now returning to you, plucks the tray out of the air to bring it back to one of the clones.

You let go of the Force and feel a massive weight of exhaustion hit you. Tilting your hand back just a couple of centimetres is enough for Dogma to grip it tightly with the palm not on his weapon.

You look at the Coruscant Guard talking to Jesse. His aura is full of baby blue and camo green. Confusion and worry.

“Please, take the food with the plate for analysis. Don’t touch it or take it out of the cover unless you are in safe distance. I don’t know what it is,” you say slowly. The words coming out of you feel foreign and you have to push them out, too exhausted to expend any emotions into the tone.

Dogma squeezes your hand three times. An “I love you” for when you can’t speak.

When you leave the dinner behind and get into your personal speeder, you pass out from exhaustion.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[jihyocentric]

mimohyo gp momo where she comes home from overseas work trip and mihyo try to act normal on their ride from the airport then they devour her when they enter their house (momo sandwich w mina strap maybe?)

(i keep repeating this but sorry if i took too long to fill this, it was one of the last requests i took before closing them)

the moment they reach inside the house, mina tries to close the door and jihyo is all over momo. the suitcase momo had been holding falls to the ground, jihyo’s lips presses on top of hers, taking her into a messy, hot kiss that only reflected on how needy she was.

mina can only wait so much until she joins them. she kisses momo first, jihyo letting out a whine in protest once her lips are no longer against momo’s. mina laughs between their kiss, holding both jihyo and momo’s waists, tongue playing with momo’s, velvety and hot.

jihyo waits, not essentially patient, but watching them making out made her wet, and so she waited. when mina finally seems to pity her, she inches away from momo, bringing jihyo into a tardy, searing kiss, both of them moaning into each other’s mouths.

momo looks, amazed, not moving a single muscle to pull them apart, despite the inconvenience of her pants straining. her own lips are red, swollen from the constant pulling of jihyo’s teeth on her bottom lip, shaft feeling trapped against her boxers when jihyo and mina decide to give her a show.

somehow, in between jihyo’s rushed kisses and mina’s passionate ones, after playing a game of trapping jihyo against the walls and feeling mina behind her, kissing her neck, palming her stomach, taking piece after piece of clothing off — they manage to get to their room.

“we, fuck-” jihyo gasps and moans, momo all but tearing her panties apart while taking them off, exposing her soaked pussy, glistening with slick. “we missed you so fucking bad,” she finishes, spreading her legs to show them the evidence of her lust.

mina, too, wasn’t far from that — she’d been wet since she first saw momo at the airport, wandering about having her in every possible way.

momo grunts, the heavy weight of her shaft resting against jihyo’s stomach. it seemed too big to fit from that point of view, but the three of them knew jihyo would take it all with ease.

distracted, hands finding jihyo’s breasts, kneading them and pinching her hardened nipples, momo doesn’t realize that mina had gone away, only when she returns and presses herself behind her.

“mina…” momo whimpers, mina’s hands holding her hips steady.

“can i?” mina asks, the toy pressed against momo’s ass tentatively, already knowing the answer.

momo nods, flushed with embarrassment at how needy she looked, “please!”

she didn’t think she’d end up like that — squeezed between them, both of her girls wanting to take her entirely, devour her really. the tiredness she felt from the trip was barely there, and then all she could do was stuff her cock deep into jihyo and take mina inside herself.

“good girl,” jihyo voices, her moans nearly ruining her sentence. “look so desperate to have us.”

“n-need you bad!” momo replies eagerly, burying her face into jihyo’s chest, reaching deeper insider her with the position.

mina coos, looking down, slapping momo’s ass playfully and earning a whine. she moves her hips steady and hard, massaging momo’s prostate with the silicon toy, throwing momo a greedy gaze, one that momo could feel burning on her skin.

“taking me so well, momo,” mina laughs, sultry. she finds support on the bed, hands against the mattress, and then she speeds up.

jihyo gasps at the sudden change of pace, momo humping against her frantically. she notices momo was not really fucking her, but fucking herself against mina. instead of talking about it, she mashes her lips together and exchange glances with mina.

momo’s gawky pace is still enough to make her wail whenever momo went too deep, bulging in her stomach, making jihyo’s nails sink on her back, clenching with every jog of hips, crying out when momo gave her tits a tighter squeeze.

“too much,” momo whines, the feeling of the tight, welcoming walls surrounding her shaft and mina’s relentless pace enough to take her to the edge quickly. “fuck! mina… hyo,” she whimpers, mina kissing her neck tenderly. “gonna come!”

“do it,” mina persuades, in a mocking tone that momo almost didn’t notice.

momo resists, knowing jihyo would get mad if she came before her. jihyo holds her face with a hand, the sharp nails on her cheeks making momo have no choice but to look at her, and she almost spills when she sees the desire written on jihyo’s face.

“give me your cum,” jihyo asks sweetly, her smile growing bigger when momo is still reluctant. “cum in me, momo, we know you want to. just like the desperate puppy you are.”

the sweet tone jihyo uses to utter such lewd and yet accusing words, along with mina constantly hitting against her most sensitive spot, is enough to throw momo to the edge of her pleasure.

she fucks into jihyo clumsily, barely able to move between them but she still humps her until she unloads completely, clenching around the toy and filling jihyo with jets of hot, thick cum. it was entirely too much to stay inside, the liquid trickling down to the bed when jihyo could no longer keep it inside.

“so naughty,” mina teases, cupping momo’s ruddy ass. “came from being called puppy.”

“stop!” momo whines, face hidden on the pillow.

“oh fuck,” jihyo groans, feeling herself leaking, momo’s weight on top of her becoming too much. “you better clean me up,” she squirms. “now!”

[defectivehero]

Dear Defective Hero,

Tis I the ominous crab. It’s my birthday tomorrow. May I have a silly villain and a serious hero? I think it would be nice to see villain just screwing around and seeing hero being annoyed.

Thanks,

🦀🔪

happy birthday!!! and of course you can! this is a bit short, but i wanted to make sure i posted it on the correct day for you. :)

“Gods, I’m so sick of this shit,” the hero announces as they enter the room, throwing their coat over to the coat rack and flopping down on a chair. They hear the telltale sound of their jacket falling to the ground, evidently slipping from the hook. This minor inconvenience only serves to anger them further, of course. 

Their sidekick, Javier, laughs at their pain. There’s a hint of sympathy in the smile that takes over his face, but it fades within a few moments and morphs into mild amusement. The hero lets out another irritated groan and Javier finally acknowledges them, albeit with a look of disinterest and disgruntlement. “What’d Nightmare do this time?”

Nightmare, the hero scoffs internally. The title perfectly fits the villain. They’re an entire nightmare of a nemesis, a nightmare to interact with. Even the mention of their enemy’s name makes their fists clench and their lips pull tight in a thin line.

They don’t realize that Javier is still waiting for a response until they hear a pointed cough. The hero sighs. “They’re threatening to destroy Nathan’s. You know- the place we go to for dinner on Friday’s? I don’t understand. That doesn’t even.. Why would that benefit them?”

Javier stares at them in evident disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. The hero sits up more and glares at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain himself. “Have you ever wondered why Nightmare annoys you so much?” Somehow, his statement doesn’t clear anything up in the slightest. 

“Honestly, I think it’s just because they exist,” the hero responds, tapping their chin in thought. The more they think about it, the more they begin to realize that the villain just always annoys them. “The mere thought of their existence irritates me.”

“Okay, wow,” Javier sighs deeply, clearly not expecting their answer. The hero shrugs. He asked for the truth, after all. “That’s not exactly what I meant. Why do you think Nightmare goes out of their way to annoy you?”

The hero feels as if their sidekick already knows the answer to the question, judging from the knowing look on his face. They stop for a moment. It feels like a trick question. They try their best to think of an answer, but they can’t come up with anything. Ultimately, Javier must get tired of waiting, because he breaks the silence. 

“They want your attention,” their sidekick says, crossing one leg over the other and leveling them with a rather intense look. The hero’s heart races in their chest. No, surely that’s not the reason the villain is doing all these foolish things. Javier continues, oblivious to their internal breakdown. “Normally, you never give them the time of day. So, the villain instead resorts to doing things that irritate and frustrate you, because that’s the only time you pay them any mind.”

“That makes absolutely no sense,” the hero groans, throwing their hands up in the air in a brief fit of childish frustration. They shake their head and walk back towards the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to stop Nightmare from destroying the only fucking restaurant in this city that I can actually tolerate!” They don’t bother to wait to hear their sidekick’s argument, instead stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind them. They have a restaurant to save. 

Meanwhile, Javier watches the hero leave and shakes his head in disbelief. How the hero hasn’t worked it out yet, he has no idea. 

©2022, @defectivehero All Rights Reserved.

endnotes below!

the hero: I just don't understand. Why do they keep doing this?! Javier, their sidekick, sighing to himself: I need a drink for this conversation.

the hero is completely oblivious lmao.

anyway, thanks for reading!

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