#I fully expected to cringe my way through it but NOPE I am very invested in the gay misadventures of repressed gay and chaotic bi per USUAL

[jockvillagersonly]

And then they kissed.

Image ID under the cut!

[Image ID: The first image shows two men in period costume sitting in what appears to be a wood paneled tea shop. One of the men (Shi Jingyao) has his hair in a loose ponytail with some flyaway bangs. He is wearing a blue quilted and white robe with metal armor detailing. He has his hands clasped under his chin and is looking down, somewhat mischeviously. The caption reads “I think you’re attracted to her.” In a green handwriting font on the left side of his head is the phrase, “my boy is all grown up!” And on the right side of his head, “follow ur dreams!!” With “she might kill you tho RIP” in a slightly smaller size below it. We can also see another man in blurry profile (Long Yao) on the right edge of the screen.

Image 2: the perspective has switched so now we can only see the back of Shi Jingyao’s head. Long Yao is now in focus. He has his hair in a tidy updo with a jade hairpin, and he is wearing several layered blue and white robes with visible embroidery on some of the inner robes. The white outer robe has a high collar and embossed swirling details. He is looking incredulous at Shi Jingyao, across from him, and the caption says, “Impossible.” Text in yellow has been added around his head: “I’m gay you fucking idiot” is large and to his left. To his right, it says, “Honestly how dare you,” and then in slightly smaller size below that, “Is it an abuse of power to behead you for this.”

Image 3: Same perspective as Image 2. Long Yao seems to be talking animatedly. The caption reads, “You and I are the ones that can make a match.” The OP has added “[youbelongwithme.mp3]” in a diagonal yellow text box next to his head.

Image 4: Back to the perspective from Image 1, with Shi Jingyao in focus. He looks shocked, with wide eyes and a somewhat frozen smile. He is loosely holding a bowl shaped tea cup in one hand. The caption reads, “what?” He has “[[Error: Shi Jingyao has crashed]] in green across his forehead. There is also a small, yellow “oh fuck oh no” in the lower right hand corner over Long Yao’s back, which is facing us.

Image 5: We return to the image 2 perspective, with Shi Jingyao facing away from the camera and Long Yao facing towards us. Long Yao looks visibly flustered: his eyebrows are drawn in, his eyes are closed, and his lips are somewhat pursed. The caption reads, “what I meant was...” There is very large yellow text over Long Yao’s head that reads, “GAY PANIC” as well as smaller text at a diagonal to the left of his head that reads “shitshitshit.” We can see a blurry shape of his hand, which seems to have been moving quickly through the frame and has been labeled, “flap flap flap” in yellow. The phrase, “*system reboot.exe*” is visible in green over the back of Shi Jingyao’s head. /End Image ID]

[etherealwaifgoddess]

One In A Million - Chpt.3

Summary: Rose starts work at the SSR Headquarters and runs into Steve again despite her intention to avoid the guys. 

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Can you even imagine trying to adapt to life in the 1940′s? It would have to be wild. I like to think that Rose would be pretty much any modern girl trying to made do back then. We’d miss random things and forget ourselves from time to time. And if nothing else, I promise you, none of us would be able to resist Steve or Bucky in their prime lol. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Three

You spend the next two days settling into your tiny apartment that sits looking out over a factory district street. It’s not glamorous but there are four other girls living in the building and it seems to be pretty safe from what they’ve told you. Your apartment is 2a and there is currently no one in 2b. Both first floor apartments are taken as well as both third floor ones. Macie who lives in 3a works at the SSR office too. She’s in the mail room there and you make plans to walk together on Monday. 

Despite the cold, you do a lot of walking over the weekend. It gives you a chance to get to know the area better and pick up the few things you’ll need to get by for the next twenty nine days. You mark the date and time of your jump point on your new wall calendar, wanting to be ready to go and not risk any mistakes that get you stuck back in time longer than you plan to be there. 

The apartment came fully furnished which is a blessing and a curse. The style is very feminine and the abundance of tiny flowers is a little overwhelming at times. You pick up a tiny window plant, missing your cactus back home for a moment when you pass a florist shop. It’s your only contribution to the apartment's decor. You can’t see wasting money on other things when you won’t be around for long. It’s not like you intend to host any guests in the next few weeks. The memory of dinner with Steve and Bucky comes to mind unbidden. It was so easy spending time with them, it’s a shame you’ll have to avoid them now. 

The nights are quiet in your apartment. You had always thought the constant connectivity of technology in the twenty-first century was a nuisance, but without it the silence of your apartment is deafening. You pick up a few books while you’re out shopping to help pass the time, and they do to an extent. It doesn’t stop you from wondering what Bucky and Steve are up to though. It’s frustrating that after only one evening in their company that they’ve left such an impression on you. You pour yourself into your books, playing cards over at Macie’s, and cleaning your apartment thoroughly. It’s enough to get you through to Monday when you know you’ll be able to distract yourself with work. 

Macie is full of life, chatting happily the entire way to the office on Monday morning. It’s nice not having to hold up your end of the conversation while you nibble at a piece of toast as you walk. The easily accessible food in the 40s is very plain, which you had expected, but it’s making you wish you had memorized a few recipes before you went back so that you could whip up a few more appetizing meals. You’re thankful money isn’t an issue while you’re there so you can “splurge” on things like sugar and coffee. You had passed on buying a cookbook but are starting to think it would have been a good investment. There’s no way you’re going to be living off of toast for breakfast all month. You wonder idly how difficult it would be to make a poptart from scratch. Probably harder than it’s worth but you’d give just about anything for a hot, toasty, s’mores poptart.

You get set up in the typing pool at the SSR after a brief tour around the office by Marge who manages all the data entry girls. There are thirteen of you, all crammed together in a string of desks on the second floor with typewriters at each of your stations. You quickly realize that while you had been lightning fast at typing on your laptop, a typewriter is quite a different beast. The biggest hiccup being the lack of a backspace key. You vow to never take that little rectangular button for granted again as you start on your eighth copy of the same notes. 

The afternoon is easier than the morning now that your brain has caught on to the lack of a backspace key and you’ve slowed down enough to ensure you don’t make mistakes. By five o’clock your shoulders ache from the angle of the desk and you miss your ergonomically designed workstation at the lab. 

You decline Macie’s offer to walk home with you in favor of going back to the bookstore to buy a cookbook. You can make a few dinners easily from memory but it would be a lot of guesswork for cooking times and measurements. Meat thermometers are apparently not a common thing yet and without Pinterest to help, you can’t remember how long to roast chicken breasts to ensure they’re done. Spending a few cents on a cookbook seems like a better option than food poisoning. You find a Better Homes and Gardens cookbook that reminds you of the one your mother had growing up and you buy it out of nostalgia as much as a fear of salmonella. 

You manage to whip up an easy dinner for yourself, half memory of your favorite herb combo and half instructions from your newly acquired book. With nothing but time on your hands, you plan out meals for the rest of the week and make a shopping list for everything you don’t have. The space in your icebox is limited but you’ll be able to make do since you’re only cooking for one. As you plan out your meals it dawns on you that your period is due later that week and you throw cocoa powder on your list. It might be an indulgence in the 40s but you’re making brownies no matter what. If you have to survive your period without Midol, you’re damn well not doing without chocolate.

The next night you pop into the grocery store on your way home, sore from another day hunched over a typewriter. Your aching shoulders have you dreading lugging bags of groceries home despite it only being two blocks. You’re debating over brands of cocoa powder when you hear the deep timber of a familiar voice. 

“Rose?” Steve calls out from the end of the aisle. 

You turn to see him holding a can of peaches, smiling broadly. So much for avoiding the guys. “Hey Steve.” you reply with a slightly forced smile. You should have known this would happen, Steve works at the grocers for heaven's sake. Stupid, so stupid. 

Steve places the can he’s holding on the stack and crosses the aisle to join you in front of the shelf. He lets out a low whistle at the cans of cocoa you’re holding, “Special event coming up?”

You shake your head, “Nope. Just felt like making brownies.” 

Steve shakes his head in disbelief. “That must be nice.”

You frown, realizing that’s out of place with the times.

Steve mistakes your frown and fumbles for an apology, “Sorry, that was rude.” 

“No,” you assure him, “It’s alright.” You wonder when the last time Steve and Bucky scraped up enough money for a treat was. It was mentioned in the archives how they had struggled to make ends meet due to all of Steve’s health issues.

“That must be some fancy job you got over at the SSR if you’re making brownies just because it’s Tuesday.” His tone is more playful and he has you smiling fully at him now.

“Family money.” you bluff, “But you know, I can’t eat a full pan of brownies by myself.” 

“That probably wouldn’t be a good idea, no.” 

“What time does your shift end?” you’re acting on impulse and you don’t care in the slightest at the moment.

“I’m done at six. But Rose, you don’t have to…”

“Bullsh-” you stop, censoring yourself. You’re in the 40s, women act like ladies and watching your mouth has always been a struggle. “Nonsense.” you amend with a blush, “You and Bucky should come over when you get done. I’ll even make dinner.” 

Steve is still smirking from your slip up but he nods. “Alright. I’ll call Bucky and we’ll be over.” 

“Good” you say and you mean it. Seeing Steve again has you wanting to be a part of their world regardless of the danger it poses. It’s hard to know they struggle when you could help with your limitless SSR funds. It’s reckless, you know that, but when Steve smiles at you it doesn’t seem to matter. 

You part ways, letting him get back to stocking the shelf of peaches, and you collect the rest of your list plus a few things for a simple dinner. 

Steve and Bucky arrive at your apartment fifteen minutes after six. You didn’t expect them to get there so quickly and you’re still mixing up brownie batter and boiling water for pasta. You let them in and cringe as they look around your overly floral apartment. “It came furnished.” you explain while taking their coats. 

“Good to know.” Bucky chuckles, “You don’t really seem the type.”

You shoot him an inquisitive look. “And what type do you think I am, Barnes?” 

“You’re classier than this, that’s for sure. You’re feminine but tough. Like you’d be just as likely to make me brownies as you are to take on a guy twice your size to defend someone.” 

You can feel yourself blushing deeply and you can’t seem to keep yourself composed. “Oh you, you charmer.” Steadying yourself with a deep breath you swat at him with the towel you had tucked into your apron pocket. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and come help with dinner?” 

Bucky dodges your swat and points at you accusingly, “See, you’re just proving my point, doll. Sweet enough to make us dinner but sassy enough to make us help.” 

“Shut up and grab the bowl.” you motion to the counter top where your half mixed brownie batter sits. “Steve, can you please get an 8x8 pan out from the cabinet over there?”

“How come he gets a please and I get a shut up?” Bucky balks.

“Because Steve isn’t a pain in my ass.” you say in the most saccharine tone you can muster.

Steve snorts and Bucky feigns taking offense, but both men fall in line helping you. It’s fun cooking with the two of them despite how obnoxious their teasing can be. Barely twenty minutes later you’re dishing up large bowls of pasta and hunks of garlic bread. It’s a rich, heavy meal and you hope to send the leftovers home with the guys. It’s one small way you know you can quietly help make their lives a little better. 

“What is this?” Steve all but moans before stuffing a second bite of the pasta in his mouth.

A small campfire flares to life in your chest at his obvious enjoyment. “It’s called cacio e pepe. I used to make it a lot when I was in college. It’s so easy to make.” 

“Stevie, I’m sorry but you’re losing that best meal in Brooklyn award.” Bucky says, swallowing quickly. 

“I’m glad you guys like it.”

Bucky shakes his head, “Not like, love. What do you say, Rose? Let me make an honest woman out of ya. I would marry you tomorrow if it means I get to eat this again.” 

“I’d fight you for that, ya jerk.” Steve grumbles between bites. 

You wave your hand dismissively. “It’s like the two of you haven’t had a decent meal in your lives. How about I just keep the pair of you and I’ll make this as much as you want.” 

They look at you for a moment in quiet amazement before Bucky quips, “You were right, Stevie. She is an angel.” 

The banter continues as you eat your meals, topic hopping from work to weekend plans to childhood memories. Both men go back for second bowls of pasta and while Steve taps out halfway through Bucky is scraping his empty bowl again in no time.

“You do realize I have brownies in the oven.” you remind him as you clear the table. 

Bucky leans back in his chair, hands splayed on his stomach. “Oh I know, darlin’. But by the time those things are cool, I’ll be ready.” 

“I might not be.” Steve groans mildly. 

“That’s because that was the most you’ve eaten in a month, ya punk.” 

“You know my medicine messes with my appetite!” 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you.” 

“Jerk.”

“Punk. I only worry because I care.” 

They exchange achingly soft looks across the table and you force yourself to act busy and not intrude on the moment. You don’t consider yourself a romantic, you’ve never had the time or inclination for it, but you think you might do just about anything for someone to look at you like that. You wait a few minutes, getting the dishes soaking in the sink before returning to the dining room where the guys are chatting quietly. 

“Want to hang out in the living room? The brownies should be done in a little bit but they’ll need to cool.”  you suggest and both men nod in agreement, getting up, albeit slowly, from their chairs. 

You enjoy the background noise of the radio while you play cards with the guys. The music is different than what you’re used to but still good. Bucky is amazed you know how to play rummy and poker so well and Steve looks at you like you could hang the moon when you crush Bucky not once, but twice. You find yourself loosening up a little more around them despite knowing it’s probably not the smartest thing. Your competitive nature takes over and you’re taunting and bragging while you play just like you would back home with your guy friends. 

Bucky proposes to you again after he tries a barely cooled brownie from the pan. Steve can’t stop smiling as he nibbles small pieces off his piece and you can tell that he’s just as happy, just less vocal. It’s late when the guys finally head home and you load up their arms with leftovers insisting you don’t want it laying around the house. Bucky pulls you in for a hug, “Thanks, doll.” he murmurs close to your ear and you shiver despite yourself. 

That damn man knows what a flirt he is and it’s just not fair. You decide to level the playing field a little. “I’m glad you came.” you tell Steve quietly when you pull him in for a hug. You press a quick kiss to his cheek before letting him go and he turns positively scarlet as he pulls away. 

You shoot Bucky an amused smirk, making sure he knows you’re on to him and not phased. Well, you are, but damned if you’ll admit it. You don’t have the time to let yourself be smitten with either of them, let alone both. Steve stutters through a goodbye and you wave them off, promising to see them again soon. 

Starting in on the dishes in your sink you realize that smart or not, you’re a goner for the pair of them. You know it’s not fair to any of you, they’re clearly very happy together, but your heart doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo. Going home in three weeks is going to hurt and at this point all you can do is minimize how much.