#**get it. its bcs hes a creep hes a weirdo.

[banghwa]

I DON'T CARE IF IT HURTS, I WANNA HAVE CONTROL

BRUCE WAYNE & SELINA KYLE x CREEP by RADIOHEAD

#the batman #the batman 2022 #robert pattinson #zoe kravitz #bruce wayne #selina kyle #batcat #dcu #batman #catwoman #dcfilmblr #battinson #dcugifs #filmgifs #dcfilms #**get it. its bcs hes a creep hes a weirdo. #**is this abt selina or bruce who knows <3 all i know is bruce was laying in his california king bumping this and sobbing post-movie #**this is incredibly grainy but I DONT CARE im having fun :3 #*creations #*gifs

[alexxncl]

masterlist | drabbles/hcs

so we all know the boys have familiars, right? idk if i'm blanking ot stupid or just don't remember, but i literally don't know what more than half of them are 😭

lucifer has peacocks ?

mammon has his crows

levi has lotan...i think

satan ??

asmo ???

beel has flies ig ????

is belphie's a cow ?????

like was this ever mentioned bc i feel like i'm losing my mind

ok but imagine a big ass peacock following you around in the human realm, but you're the only one who can see it bc of your pact with lucifer. like you're out with your friends, and then the bitch pops up out of nowhere and you have to act like nothing's happening

mammon's crows would always find a way to perch up on your shoulder or your forearm or your head. you'd wake up to them standing on your nose or your chest with a little note or smth. and mammon wouldn't even have to tell the crows to follow you, they'd do it on their own bc they love you like he does and they hate seeing their demon's favorite human being lonely

lotan...terrifying in theory. but i feel like he's just a big puppy idk. just give him treats and a note for levi and he'll cooperate. there should be some kind of spell to make him portable so he could follow you around like a tiny snake, or erap himself around your shoulders or arms or smth

accidentally swatting one of beel's flies without realizing and seriously injuring it (idk i feel like they cant die easily) and then beel being all sad when you come back like "i just wanted to make sure you were ok 🥺"

maybe satan has a bird too? he's technically very intertwined with lucifer given the circumstances of his birth (are the feathers on his boa from the wings lucifer ripped off??? more on this here)

maybe asmo's is a snake. yk how the serpent tempted adam and eve or whatever. temptation and lust go hand in hand, i think it'd be interesting if his familiar had some kind if symbolic attachment to lust or temptation. what other animals could it be??

but a cow ??? i feel like that'd be more annoying than anything 😭 getting whipped with its tail on accident and your friends looking at you like you're insane for flinching and jumping out of nowhere. or waking up to the thing mooing in your face

UPDATE i now know satan's familiar is a unicorn and asmo's is a scorpion

a unicorn following you around would be hilarious but also surreal ??? like imagine almost being late to work or an appointment and then satan's unicorn pops up out of nowhere and just flies you to your job sndhdjdhh

idk about y'all but the idea of scorpions scare me...i feel like asmo's would be cute tho. like a tiny, bright pink scorpion with a bedazzled tail that protects you from creeps whenever you're out partying or bar hopping with your friends. it'll stab them with its tail and the weirdo will leave you alone

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me brothers #obey me boys #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me familiars #obey me mc #obey me x reader #obey me hc #obey me rambles #obey me drabbles #obey me drabble #obey me hcs #obey me fluff

[lovelyhan]

HI LOVEEEER

I have a blurb for inflection point 👀👀 SOMETHINT MORE HOLY BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE EVERYONE HAD A SHITTY ASS WEEK!!

Jeonghanio and Seungcheol are just chattin away on their couch and reader comes home hella annoyed bc of work even tho jeonghans like "🤨" and then its just comforting bc reader just drops mega f bombs everywhere to a point where both men are terrified.

ANAGWAYS U DONT HAVE TO RESPOND I JUST HAD A IDEA 🫶🏼🫶🏼 LOVE UEYEYEYE

⟣ when you're having a bad day ⟢ wc: 1.8k words tags: fluff, sooo much fluff, cuddling

All you could think about after this shitshow of a workday is your wonderful cloud couch at home.

Not only does it provide maximum comfort during your...more risqué activities with either or both of your boyfriends, but on days much like this one, you can just sink into the plush cushions and let them swallow you whole. Almost like you're floating on a fluffy cloud—hence, the namesake.

You were mortified when Jeonghan finally spilled just how much money Seungcheol invested into that sofa. It was probably three—no, four times more expensive than the king-sized mattress he'd gotten for the three of you a year ago. Then and there, you realized that your first love has developed quite the eye for home furniture, and decided to make good on his paychecks by purchasing only the best of the best.

But the net worth of your cloud couch isn't the issue here.

When you shut the door behind you, the idle background noise from that sitcom Jeonghan has taken a fancy to these days flits to your ears—somehow easing the tension in your shoulders. He had to stay home because of a fever that's been running since yesterday evening. While that resulted to you having to cover for your boss' responsibilities for the day, you were glad to know he's been resting up just like you insisted all morning.

Jeonghan was particularly stubborn about using up a sick leave because one of the company's more insufferable clients scheduled a meeting with him today—one that apparently can't be pushed back a day since he's flying out of the country tonight.

So, like the outstanding employee and girlfriend you are, you reassured your boss-turned-lover to just relax, and that you and his secretary, Joshua have got it covered.

Besides, you've been in this business with Jeonghan for years. How bad could he possibly be?

"Whoa," Seungcheol pipes up from where he's buried under a fluffy comforter with Jeonghan on the couch. "You look like shit, babe. What happened?"

"Seungcheol," Jeonghan kicks his leg, and you don't miss the nasal quality to his voice. Your lover's miffed expression then morphs into something more hospitable. when he turns to you with a smile. "Hey, sweetheart. How was work? Not too difficult without me?"

You answer their questions by collapsing on the vacant spot right next to Jeonghan, a whine caught in the back of your throat as you buried your face his sweatshirt. He smells like laundry detergent and Salonpas—a far cry from his usual expensive colognes, but it fills you with a sense of quiet satisfaction, knowing you get to see him this vulnerable.

And Jeonghan can also see how vulnerable you are right now.

"He's so..." you trail off for a moment, the words lost on you because of how pissed off you are. "Why are we even considering doing business with such a fucking creep?"

Seungcheol tenses from the other side, rising a little to furrow his brows. "I know I don't usually ask about the specifics, but is this about that new client of yours? Did he do something weird to you? Am I going to have to beat someone up?"

Jeonghan sighs, easing a palm across Seungcheol's thigh over the comforter. "Cheol, calm down. If Mr. Seo has a type, it's definitely not our princess over here."

"What does that even mean?"

You huff before tucking your legs to your chest and shifting your weight into Jeonghan. You know you probably shouldn't be putting too much strain on someone who's sick but you can't help it!

"That weirdo wouldn't stop eye-fucking Joshua during the entire meeting! I bet he was even happy that Hannie wasn't with us today 'cause there was no one else that could tell him off. Joshua isn't exactly the confrontational type either, so..."

Jeonghan presses his lips together before making you rest your head on his shoulder, stroking your hair to placate you somehow. "But you're the confrontational type, right? Why didn't you show that asshole his place, hm? You've seen me do it dozens of times."

"In case you're forgetting, I'm just a regular employee, Hannie." You roll your eyes. "If I talk back to him, he might just have me fired."

"Who gets to hire and fire people in the office again?"

"...You."

"And do you seriously think I would fire my favorite employee?" Jeonghan teases, leaning down to plant a kiss on your nose. "You give the best head underneath my desk, love. What makes you think I'll let you go so easily?"

Your reaction is immediate, and Jeonghan lets out a soft chuckle when you peel yourself away from his embrace to relocate on Seungcheol's side—glaring at your boss as you grab tightly onto the football star's arm.

"Look what you did," Seungcheol laughs before nuzzling your hair affectionately. "As much as I want to know what that feels like, there's a time and place for everything, Han. Don't her feathers look ruffled enough?"

You let out a petulant noise, making a show of tilting your chin up with indignance. "Yeah, Hannie, haven't I gotten enough shit today?"

"Aside from the not-so-discreet Mr. Seo," he starts before getting up to pad over to your side so that you're sandwiched between your two lovers, "what else has gotten our baby so pissed off today?"

You puff out your cheeks, face souring at the mere thought of recalling everything that happened since you walked out of the door to your house today.

Since Jeonghan was sick, you convinced Seungcheol to stay at home to take care of him, despite the latter insisting that he drive you to work. You promised that you could manage, and that you sort of missed commuting to the office anyways.

That's your first mistake because you had no clue that the trains were down today, and you had to stand in a long line at the taxi bay, since none of the city buses pass by any areas near your workplace. You were already running a bit late as is, so you couldn't afford to walk either.

Today, you were an hour late for work when you've never been tardy your entire life (except for that one time your boyfriends tag-teamed you too intensely on a Monday morning, damn these men). In your attempt at apologizing profusely to Joshua—bowing a full ninety degrees and everything—you ended up knocking over his iced americano in the process.

The drink splashed all over an important document Jeonghan's secretary had been going over before your arrival, and that was honestly the first time you saw Joshua look like he wanted to strangle someone in the years you've worked alongside him.

It certainly did not help that you were supposed to meet that creep, Mr. Seo immediately after that altercation. Even if you managed to strike an acceptable deal with him after a few compromises, you could practically hear Joshua silently pleading for god to just kill him with lightning right then and there.

He must've been having just as bad a day as you are.

Your domino effect of misfortune carried over until lunch time when the nearby taco joint got your order mixed up. That happens pretty often though, and on a regular day, you wouldn't have minded, but with how terrible things have gone today, you ended up breaking down in a public bathroom.

As you animatedly recount the day's events, your two boyfriends listen intently. You're completely oblivious to how they slowly and quietly eased you into a more comfortable position on the couch—your back resting against Seungcheol's chest while Jeonghan props your legs on his lap.

"It was just a shitty fucking day," you complain, tears stinging the back of your eyes. You're not sad. You just tear up very easily whenever you're too stressed for your own good. "I hated that Hannie wasn't there. I hated the commute. I hated ruining Joshua's day. And I hate Mr. Seo even if he's bringing us a ridiculous amount of profit in the next few months."

Your rant makes you sound like a kid who got denied the toy she wants at the department store, and you hold your tongue at the realization. Seungcheol shakes his head before grasping your chin with his hand, turning your head so that your eyes would meet.

"Baby, I'm sorry we weren't there for you." He wipes the moisture from your eyes before pressing a long kiss on your lips—one that you immediately melt into. When Seungcheol pulls away, you even find yourself pouting.

"Trust me, I would've filled in Jeonghan's shoes for the day if I knew his absence would take this much of a toll on you," he reassures.

Jeonghan shakes his head at your lover's admission before nuzzling the crook of your neck. "Mmm... I don't know about that, Cheol. You might make the company go under within five minutes of talking to any of our clients."

Seungcheol scowls at him, and you stifle a quiet laugh. Can't argue with that. You and Jeonghan know very well that the way Seungcheol deals with problems is a bit too...aggressive for a corporate setting. He's better off channeling all that frustration in the field.

You jolt a little when Jeonghan circles his arms around your waist, peppering your neck, jaw, and cheeks with kisses that have you laughing at his ridiculousness. He only stops when his face is directly in front of yours, and you can't help the way your heart flutters when his lips curve into a handsome smile.

"Thank you for covering for me today, princess," he breathes, nuzzling your nose with his. "I can't kiss you on the lips 'cause you might get sick, too, but I hope you know how much I love you."

"I don't mind getting your cooties," you tease before leaning closer to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I love you, too, Hannie. But god, I can't imagine how you deal with our clients firsthand. It's one thing to watch you talk to them, but it's another to be the one making the important decisions on the spot."

"And you wonder why I make so much money," he chuckles.

Behind you, Seungcheol taps your thigh to call your attention, and you glance back at him with curious eyes.

"Jeonghan said he wanted to watch a bunch of Land Before Time movies when you got home, but we haven't decided on where to have dinner delivered from yet," he explains, leaning forward to press his lips to your temple. "You got any ideas, beautiful?"

Just like that, the day's stress has gone up in smoke. Though your beloved cloud couch certainly adds a degree of comfort you direly needed, cuddling with your two boyfriends is what ultimately quells your less-than-stellar mood. Even if the stream is lagging a little, and Seungcheol is getting crumbs and grease all over the comforter...

You wouldn't have it any other way.

⟢ end notes: this ended up WAYYY longer than expected. i can't even call it a drabble anymore but bc i've been having a shitty week myself too, i had to channel that all into this lovely request that anon slid into my ask <3 i miss inflection point jeongcheol so much and writing smth fluffy abt them for a change is such a breath of fresh air HEHE i hope more of you send in prompts like this!! i enjoy cooking them up so much~

p.s. check the series masterlist here!

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #💭 request #seungcheol #jeonghan #seventeen scoups #scoups #seventeen jeonghan #inflection point extras #svt fanfic #lovelyhan

[pinguwrites]

Kinktober 2023 | Day Thirty-One — Jackson Rippner + ghostface!reader

Pairing -> jackson rippner x ghostface!reader

Summary -> In this college au, Halloween is nearing its corner, only for the festive mood to be cut short when your classmate is brutally killed. As the series of murders continues, Jackson Rippner finds himself the next target, oblivious to the fact that his hunter is you, his girlfriend, the ghostface.

KINKTOBER 2023 MLIST

Warnings: mention of death, jackson being a simp

Disclaimer: Red Eye characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

This is just an excerpt for the full-length fic that's coming out, bc I felt like this prompt deserved something much longer than just a drabble.

A/N: not me reading over this thing after it's published and seeing all the mistakes 😭

Jackson Rippner was trying to become more romantic for you, an endeavor that started about a week ago after he noticed you liked passionate men. It was a simple conversation about fictional crushes — you know, the ones you have as a kid when he realized all the men you had pointed out were terribly lovey-dovey and all sentimental-like. A few origami roses here and there, some thoughtful gifts, maybe some poetic letters, and he was sure that he could outcompete all of them. He was the only man you needed, the only man you could ever want.

He knew how it sounded—pathetic. Since when was he the type to change himself for a girl? He was no Romeo or Jack Dawson, and he certainly didn’t want to be. He wasn’t a simpering fool, chasing after a pretty girl like it was his life’s mission, but as it turned out, he was for you. And if you liked your men romantic, then Jackson would be romantic

Starting off with whatever this was: a package of your favorite stuff. For one, two books you mentioned wanting to get but couldn’t spare the money for, which Jackson painstakingly searched through the town for. He finally found them in some niche bookstore on the outskirts of Craven, overpriced for the value—or some other equally stupid bullshit—even though he knew damn well that he could get it for half the price if he drove further into the main city. He would have, but he knew his father would get pissed if he wasted that much gas money, and fearing to face his fist, he settled for the high cost. It’s for her, so it’s worth it.

For second, and last—at least for now, some bath bombs. He made them from scratch, swiping the ingredients from around the house. He used a cedar wood scent for the essential oil, as it was the closet smell he could get to his cologne, and made three bombs, wrapped them in plastic, and put them alongside the books in the bag.

It was perfect. You were going to love it. You had to love it. How could you not?

He closed the bag and placed it on his desk, ready to go to sleep, when the landline downstairs rang. It was probably telemarketers, but it could also be his parents, who were out on date night. 

He headed downstairs and picked up the phone, but the voice on the other end caught him off guard. “Hey,” a woman said, but it didn’t sound natural. It sounded like there was a voice modulator, the ones that criminals used in those crime shows you forced him to watch.

“Hey?” Jackson responded, confused, and a little irritated.

“I know who you are.”

Jackson tried to focus on the sound of the voice. Maybe he could pick out who it was if he listened close enough, but it was a fruitless effort. It was female, but too common to tell.

“You’re the one calling me,” he said, tone laced with amusement, “I should assume so.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“A creep? A weirdo?” Jackson laughed. “A stalker? I dunno. Take your pick.”

It was quiet. For a moment, he thought the woman hung up, but then she spoke again, “A lover. I’m a lover, Jackson.”

“Good for you.” He glanced back at the package he left on his desk. He was tired, and didn’t want to deal with this right now. “Now, how about you either stop acting mysterious and tell me what you want, or I cut the call.”

“Someone’s going to die tonight, Jackson,”  the woman said. Oddly enough, Jackson felt a twinge of excitement at her words. It was oddly thrilling, and adrenaline inducing to hear such a thing. It was at this point he realized with himself that this was a prank, because who would just admit to premeditated murder? but still—it was hot. He wished you would say those things.  

“I hope it’s that girl from my English class. What’s her name? Ah, fuck, I forgot. She’s the bitchy one —all emotion. Screams every time the lights go out. You know her?”

“Yeah, I know her.”

So, she’s been on campus, Jackson thought. Following me, maybe. I can’t believe it! 

“It’s not her, though. But who knows, maybe she’ll be next. Would you like that?”

“Doll, I really don’t care. Do me a favor, and don’t call me again.”

He put the phone down and went back upstairs. What a fucking psycho. He was too tired to deal with this shit. After freshening up, he pulled the covers over himself and turned off the lamp, drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

Taglist:

@rainyforest777

@thatwitchybitch420

@madeinuk

@gentyleman

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

#jackson rippner #jackson rippner x you #jackson rippner x y/n #jackson rippner x reader #cillian murphy #fanfiction #red eye #pinguwrites #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

[mariejordans]

I come bearing more wild shit. Its about dicks, to be honest. Because Marie was at that facility with people with dicks tryna get off at the community computer. Then she got here and almost got killed by somebody with they dick just on fire right in front of her. Then somebody had they dick out boutta weaponize it if she wouldn't have blown it off. Meanwhile, Jordan somewhere with violins playing in the back like, "She won't like me without my dick."

Thank you for your time.

🚶🏾‍♀️

ahsjsksksjeje no bc let’s talk about it. i swear someone in that writer’s room has an obsession with dicks bc the pilot episode ALONE has more dick jokes than most tv shows will ever achieve.

also, i think it’s so funny that, when you think about it, all the dicks shown on-screen have ended up blown up.

luke? jordan punched his dick and then he blew himself up (including his dick.)

rufus? i mean, we all saw what happened. cate compelled him to swing a bat into his dick every hour on the hour and then marie blew it up.

nothing’s happened to the weirdo creep that emma hooked up with in episode one YET, but i’m kinda hoping the trend continues bc he was such a dick to emma (no pun intended.) (also if we follow the pattern happening, emma DID kick him in the balls already, even if he found that enjoyable, so maybe he will end up with his dick blown off or something idk…)

so idk jordan, maybe it’s a good thing she doesn’t like you ONLY for your dick. bc we all know what happens to people with dicks on this show…

#i can’t believe im making dick theories rn #the things i do for this show #gen v #gen v rambles #jordan li #marie moreau #luke riordan #cate dunlap #tw dicks #lots of mentions of dicks #metaphorical and literal

[gutsfics]

pls tell me all about devi before the events of ilitw!! what kind of activities did he do? who were some of his friends? did he still talk to any of the people from his childhood friend group? if so, who? etc. etc. anything else you want to share!!

ok this is gonna kinda jump around a bit bc thats how my thoughts are rn :3 i love this ask though thank u for letting me talk about my special guy

so after Jane's death, he did try his best to hang onto the friend group for a while (especially Noah) but due to not having a very good therapist, his kid logic made him think "thinking about Jane makes me sad, and not thinking about her i can be happy, but i'd rather think about her and be sad forever than evetually move on and forget" so he kinda shut himself off from everyone so he could hold his memory of her forever

his parents tried their best to help him but the therapists they took him too didnt believe him when he told them about Mr Red (or when they did believe him, they only believed him if they were reading lines that weren't there and assuming that Mr Red was a real living guy in the woods and jumping to conclusions about it) so maybe like a month or two after Jane died he just... stopped talking, bc what was the point of speaking if no one was going to listen? and then he stopped talking to anyone ever until half way through his freshman year of highschool when he told Cody to "gargle my cock and balls"

because of Devi being mute for all that time, he didn't really have any friends (which he was fine with for reasons stated earlier) & a lot of people found him kinda weird and offputting for the most part, especially when he got really into expressing himself through art, specifically photography. a lot of "ew that weird quiet kid is taking pictures of things again what a creep" but for the most part he just shrugged it off

Cody used to think he was kinda cool bc he was quiet and goth and in 6th grade asked him to the fall formal but Devi turned him down and that's when he started bullying him. he tried to turn it into a "HAH WELL OBVIOUSLY NO ONE WOULD WANT TO GO OUT WITH YOU YOU CREEP WEIRDO YOURE STUPID TO THINKING I WANTED TO GO WITH YOU" which somehow worked on everyone around them despite the fact Devi turned him down

after he started talking again, he joined the yearbook club & got really good at the composition of pictures of people & formatting them on the pages, but bc he was still a bit of a loner at this point no one else in the club realized just how much he did? especially after the older kids in the club graduated, bc they were the ones encouraging him and teaching him how to do the formatting and stuff. ive actually been rotating a fic in my head where post ilitw Lucas goes to the yearbook club to see how theyre doing bc its almost time to get em printed and its like. not even half done and also theres a memorial page for Cody but not for Devi????

in Sophmore year he took a Japanese class for an easy foreign language credit, which Tom was also in for the same reasons and they became friends :3 not as close as Tom and Andy at this point, but they'd hang out at lunch when Andy was busy and sometimes go to eachother's houses after school. but after that year the teacher for the class made sure to put them in different periods bc they would kinda. make fun of him a little bit in japanese bc he was a white guy who thought he was way better at the language than he actually was and that made him big mad

of the original group, he was probably closest with Lily when he started talking again. and then not as close w Ava and Andy but he talked w them fairly often. Lucas, Stacy, and Dan he really only saw when he was doing yearbook stuff, w that conversation he had w Dan junior year being the longest conversation he'd had w any of those three in a while (all three 100% knew he was the backbone of yearbook btw. & when people were being like "ew that weirdo goth kid w the camera is here again" they were the ones to be like "ITS FOR YEARBOOK, ASSHOLES.")

he and Noah avoided each other as much as possible. sitting next to Noah during that assembly the first day of senior year was the first time in years that one of them didn't immedeatly turn around and walk out of the room upon seeing the other in it (they lowkey had each other's scheduals memorized to better avoid each other) (for the most part Any picture of Noah that might show up in the yearbooks were not taken by Devi) (although. ngl. Devi did take a few candid photos of Noah occasionally. which he promptly would delete bc he felt bad about it. a little bc he and Noah hadnt talked in forever but mostly bc he felt like "creep weirdo with a camera" was an accurate description of him when he did that)

#it lives in the woods #ilitw mc

[sawtual]

oh wow i never actually realized how much of a creep warren is dsjsjsj. it's been like 7 years since i've played it

YEA its kind of agonizing. like hes absolutely a creep in the 16 year old boy weirdo kind of way that he literally embodies but i dont get why people want to make excuses for his behavior 😭 like the fact hes 16 but doing shitty things is an explanation for his behavior but acting like its no big deal and should be tolerated is so crazy to me. the fact max's nightmare and journal both show how uninterested max is in him as a friend and romantically is so insane, like I'll be honest he is NOT a romatic option in the game!! it was shoehorned in bc he was the devs self insert, but in game theres quite literally 0 build up or chemistry.. exploding about this forever

#asks

[hearts4cesca]

ITS SO WEIRD HE JSUT GOES ‘i just want a girlfriend☹️’ AT LUNCH (ONT HE BENCH THING) AND I JUST GO ‘ok?’ LIKE THE WEIRDO I AM

THEN HE TRIES TO PUT HIS ARM AROUND ME AND I PUSHED HIM OFF BC WEIRDO

(The only Canadian I would rag is Micheal cera)

IM ALSO LISTENING TO OUR SPOTIFY PLAYLIST😚😚😚😚

OOOOO AS YOU SHOULD LOVE OUR PLAYLIST

AND WHAT A CREEP HELLO? LIKE MAYBE IS HE WASNT SO ODD HE WOULD GET SOME GAME BUT OBVS NOT 😭😭

I would punch him for you if you’d let me 💗

[betawooper]

Do you have any unpopular csm opinions and can i ask abt your favorite and least favorite moments?

warning for mentions of grooming bc makima is a creep, also regular csm cws and spoilers for anime-onlies

havent read csm in a hot minute but i do still have some opinions that may not be everyone's cup of tea jsdhjfhs (btw ill only be talking about part 1, none of the asa yoru stuff)

most favorite moment: the train makima scene where she looks creepy as shit, i liked the plot twist of everyone dying in general but the way fujimoto drew her in that specific panel was so good

(alternatively, i loved every moment kobeni showed up, the looping hotel arc or whatever its called did wonders establishing her character)

least favorite moment: not sure if i necessarily have one, i did get bored during one of the arcs prior to the gun devil arc while binging but that isnt necessarily a moment i can say is my least favorite?

unpopular opinions

im conflicted about quanxi being given a lesbian harem essentially, bc like shes cool but there was that one spread where fujimoto drew that whole orgy and i wondered why he drew that bc,,,, there was no reason to do that? and the explanation ive come up with isnt too pleasant

i actually like makima, she is an amazing villain, i came into csm already knowing the twist of her being evil and a groomer but what i didnt expect was for fujimoto to make her so effectively creepy, she is so excellently written and drawn yet i always hesitate in saying that i like her bc people would assume that im a weirdo and explaining my reasons will get tiring very quickly

i wish there were more scenes of makima and denji doing activities like that movie watching marathon bc i personally feel like fujimoto really could have pushed the creepy makima agenda a lot more if makima was more present in denji's life

more of the masculine devils shouldve been shown as sluts more, like the feminine ones (think bomb devil and power) were mostly scantily clad but i dont remember angel devil or any of the other devils showing that much skin, this is also one of those things where if i explained my true thought process its gonna be a whole 1500 word paper which i dont have the energy to do (lets just say im tired of seeing women lose their clothes in fights especially when men get to keep theirs)

and last

im uh

not a fan of ak*ang*l

at least how the fandom portrays them, like i can understand the appeal but its Everywhere when i just want to see more art of the hayakawa trio being siblings [sob]

#another opinion i have is that the anime is mid compared to the manga #but thats not really an unpopular opinion i dont think asjdhfjsdhf #i really should reread csm at some point bc it is one of those things #that i wasnt really impressed with at first? even though people were raving about it yknow #except for the makima stuff i was like yea its a shonen series ig #it handles its adult themes better than i expected though #but i otherwise felt lukewarm #im just way too busy with other stuff to invest time in rereading rip #asks #csm manga #csm spoilers

[quixoticrobotic]

one time i bought a keychain with a picture of a lil alien on it and i bought it solely bc the tag at the antique shop labeled it “creep weirdo who is he?” like that was written on the tag that phrase is burned into my brain. i just say it now like its a reference people will get

#they didnt let me keep the tag :( #i maek post

[violetxpetals]

Every time I learn about new weird fetishy crap I become more and more convinced that all men are deeply deprived fucking weirdos.

I’ve just been learning about eugenia cooney and learning that tons of old men go on all of her live streams and get off on calling her fat, and paying her to pick up heavy things or show certain parts of her dying body. Horrific.

I hate seeing secret fetish vids pop up on fb or tt. Bizarre women in full face stage makeup and perfectly manicured nails cooking terrible food or spreading macaroni and cheese all over a counter while making eye contact with a POV style camera. And everyone shares it will three million comments of “omg she’s so weird what even are these videos lollll” and “omg that’s just such a huge mess! Its so messy!!” not knowing these wildly popular and lucrative videos are mess fetish porn, and the males with that fetish are getting off on the comments just as much as the video.

I hate that three of my female friends have told me they now crop their feet out of every full-body picture they post online bc they got foot fetish creeps begging to buy more pics from them

I hate that men go online and (1) neg women and say purposely insulting inflammatory things or (2) make cringey, creepy fake stories embellished with faux screenshots pretending to be a distressed mother who’s son was doing something incredibly inappropriate with her underwear (but then she decides to wear them anyway). Then, when the inevitable millions of comments roll in full of “this is disgusting and you’re a small dicked gross creep” they’re beating off to their degradation fetish.

I hate that I just saw a tt of six female coworkers all quitting at once bc they found a secret camera in their bathroom bc their boss has a piss fetish

I hate that my friend’s boyfriend aggressively pushes for sex when she gets her period (and is in severe pain from PCOS) bc he has a menstruation fetish

I hate seeing Reddit posts from a woman who’s husband gets noticeably angry if he ever hears her fart randomly bc he expects her to let him pull her pants down and pretty much sit on his face every time she has to bc he has a fart fetish

I hate hearing stories of sisters and step sisters and mothers and step mothers going through the horror of being sexually harassed by their own family because the male has grown up on a steady diet of porn and incest fetish.

I hate that pregnant women documenting their pregnancy online get comment sections full of creeps with pregnancy fetishes

I hate pedophiles. I hate men with vomit fetishes. I hate men with shit fetishes. I hate men with crying fetishes. I hate men with geriatric fetishes. I hate men with incest fetishes.

I hate that men have asked to see my armpits, my stomach, my tongue, my feet, and everything else imaginable. Not part of us is safe. No action of ours is safe or sacred. Nothing is private. Everything is up for grabs. Everything can be and is literally fetishized.

#leaf thoughts #sry ik this got a bit…graphic at times #but I think it’s important to face the reality

[bluebeetle]

also the fact that theyre ALL cishet like. i cannot. its so weird to me having had like. 99% of my good friends not fall into that (even if they started as it they never ended as cishet lol). i try not to judge them for it but its like. :| some of the stuff they say like weirdo creep acting like ppl thinking he’s gay is the Worst Thing Ever and im sitting here like : ) : ) and everyone assumes im single but its like nah i just dont feel comfortable telling u guys im a lesbian bc i dont wanna get called slurs 

#txt

[gothamlonelyhearts]

🦴🪦 and 🧿 :3

🦴 What kind of halloween foods do you and your f/o like? Do you make them together?

THESE FOR SURE OMG

SO LIKE these are something i always love to make but its lonely to do alone & ed never got the chance to rlly celebrate anything at the orphanage + into his adulthood holidays in general just made him feel lonely so we'd def make these together (if he can keep me from eating them raw . im a creep im a weirdo) and probably get those little gel decals for the windows ..

🪦 How do you and your f/o decorate for halloween?

lots and lots and lots of cat-themed decor bc cats have been my special interest since i developed a brain i think (or at least as far back as i can remember ksjdfkjdcfs)

the party city tinsel cat for sure.

like look at this guy. i'd come home and be like "hello i love u i got us matching tinsel cats"

he'd bring me home stuff like the second pic! he's not rlly into decorating cus he never saw a point but seeing me excited about it and wanting to include him makes him feel really good

🧿 Free pass for a halloween centric gush about your f/o!

i love him so much and i know that he never had the chance to really enjoy halloween (or any other holidays) before and i'd love to be able to make this time of year a good one for him. i think it'd be fun to go to haunted houses and stuff with him too (not as an excuse to pretend to be scared or anything just so i have an excuse to latch onto him like a flea aha... . of course not... aha... ahahaha...) and i like to think he'd think it's cute / silly that i dress up my cat freddy (he's a black cat) as a bat or a spider every year... (i'd dress up the other two but they don't like collars/clothes only freddy does lol)

i also think fall in general just makes me think of him. when it gets cold and kind of windy and grey outside i always think of him. it's pretty weather in the same way that he's pretty to me.

#meow! #TYSM FUR SENDING (Rotates u)

[bathroomhaunt]

If someone is being a creep then call them that but "neil gaiman is a weirdo" says more about you than about him. If he did something actually wrong, then cite it. Being normal isn't a virtue. Being weird isn't a sin.

wow, are you ever being disingenuous. its your problem if you really want to have a personal pity party for a man who has defended having child porn bc “its illustrated!!!”. its pretty easy to find that info and you could absolutely have easily found it yourself. it was in the notes of that post, in fact. so. do better. support better people. and no, i will not “cite it”. its on you to be informed on the people you choose to support. not me. this isnt a court of law, it isnt a research paper, and i have no burden of proof. figure it out yourself, like a grown up.

anyways. you dont get to police my language. it says a lot about you that you not only feel you do, but feel you get to do it anonymously, and on a platform where you quite literally have almost complete control of what you see. block me if you dont like the language i use. i do not care. you especially dont get to tell me what word i use to describe someone defending the sexualization of children. i think thats pretty fucking weird (which, btw, can be defined as: very strange and unusual, unexpected, or not natural, which defending pedophiles certainly is).

also, as someone who has been called weird plenty of times, if this is what you need to do to make yourself feel better about being called that.... you probably are, in fact, weird.

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

[dyketubbo]

for a ctubbo fan it really does get to me so much when anyone who doesnt like ranboo crits him whether character or cc like it hits worse w the cc bc people will just be mean for no reason when hes just some guy but w the character its like . yes hes messed up but you dont understand. keep his name out your mouth you dont get him like i do yes hes a horrible person yes hes kind of a shit husband actually yes hes a creep and a weirdo yes he probably helped cause ctommys third death yes hes horrifically hypocritical and a giant fucking liar and he commits atrocities and he thinks torture is funny and he breaks friendships at random and doesnt care about like anyone that isnt ctubbo or michael or ctommy in the same way those other people care about him yes hes just generally not a great person with not great views on the world or people around him but also hes my little vwoop vwoop and i love him and hes amazing and perfect actually .

#ranboo #c!ranboo critical #ive decided us cbeeduo fans are the only ones allowed to criticize him anymore /j #dsmp #mask mews #(also maintagged bc its me talking about how i love him)