#I NEED THIS TO GET REACH OKAY I NEED TO SEE WHO Gets It

[sacredsorceress]

the fling / bob reynolds

pairing: bob reynolds x f!avengers!reader summary: bob finds out that you had a one night stand with bucky a few years earlier and feelings bubble to the surface. a/n: heavy on the dialogue since i'm still trying to learn how to write for these characters I'm sorry. for the people who went to thunderbolts for bucky and walked out with a crush on bob- I hope this is okay!! first time writing in a bit word count: 4.3k warnings: no smut, but there are mentions of sexual content so minors please dni!!, former one night stand with bucky (y/n living the dream life fr), john walker!! jumpscare!! (kidding, but he is in it), feelings of worthlessness- anything that would have been in thunderbolts*, drug mention

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"Just one more time?" You asked. "Please? For me?"

Maybe you batted your eyelashes on purpose- your smile soft and warm, as you brushed your baby hairs from your face. Maybe it was on accident. Even you had been unable to differentiate between the blurred lines of how you instinctively reacted to his presence versus when you consciously tried to impress him.

You had been in the training room for an hour and although the ceiling fan whirred incessantly above the both of you and the fluorescent lighting had begun to give you a headache, you weren't ready to quit.

A glass of water stood on the far side of the room, among a few small puddles that had spilt as Bob had tried (and failed) to successfully raise it in the air telekinetically. A month earlier you had offered to help train Bob; with abilities the most similar to his out of anyone in the group, it felt like a natural step.

But as days turned to weeks, you needed a win just as much as him.

"Try to feel the energy running through you." You said, laying your hand against his shoulder. "I can feel it radiating off of you. You have to remind yourself that you're the one in control, Bob."

Bob's skin rose underneath his sweater- tiny goosebumps scattered across the expanse of his body. A shiver ran down his spine at the spark of your touch. As your hand trailed from his shoulder down his arm, his heart raced.

"It's all you." You whispered. "Now concentrate. Focus on the energy coursing through you. From your fingertips, up your arms," your fingers tracing up his arm as you spoke until they reached for his chest. "...to your heart..."

When Bob could feel your fingertips ghosting over his chest, pressing through the sweater that hung loosely on his frame, his breath hitched. His brain- a jumble of emotions that had far less to do with whatever god-like power was flowing through his veins and more to do with the brain of a man fogged by the woman he loved- lost focus on the task at hand.

His eyes screwed shut as the glass shattered in midair.

"Nice going, Bobby." Walker called, learning against the door frame.

Suddenly aware of how close you had become, you swiftly pulled away from Bob.

You scoffed.

"Don't be an ass, John."

The tension in the room was palpable as the three of you stood in silence. Only the mechanic whir of the fan click, click, clicking as it rattled on the ceiling kept you from hearing each other's breaths.

Glancing between John and Bob, you rolled your eyes and scooped your things up off the floor.

"Good work today, Bob." You said turning back with one last smile as you headed for the door. "See you at dinner."

Bob raised his hand to say something back, but before he could, you had scurried out of the room leaving him with Walker. Wonderful.

As if the room had been vacuum sealed and released, it was as though the liveliness of the room had been sucked out with your departure.

John gestured to the door.

"So you two are getting close, huh?" He asked, striding into the room with a beer bottle in his hand.

Bob felt the heat rise to his cheeks- was it that obvious?

"Oh uh... I guess." Bob smiled politely, shoving his hands in his pockets.

John's feet dragged against the floor as he walked, the sound of rubber against concrete like nails on a chalkboard in Bob's ears. Walker's gaze travelled across the room as if he was seeing it for the first time and hadn't trained in it himself daily, until his focus landed on the water spill from moments earlier. He kicked a stray piece of glass with his foot.

The super soldier cleared his throat.

"You know, man-to-man, Bobby: I'd be careful with her if I was you." Walker chuckled dryly. "Y'know, after what happened with Bucky."

Just as quickly as it had raced by your touch, his heart now stopped.

Everything that had been bothering him previously- the mechanic clicking of the fan, the bright white lights that reminded him a bit too much of a ward, the crisp tag that scratched the back of his neck, the way John spoke with drops of beer still hanging on his lips- it was endless, really- had faded into the background.

What did Bucky have to do with you?

He fidgeted with his hands, digging into the nail beds that were still dried with blood.

"What uh.." A nervous laugh escaped his throat. "What happened with Bucky?"

"Hooked up." Walker said, bringing the bottle to his lips. "Yeah.. it was like, a while ago back in my Captain America days." He raised his eyebrows. A pause. "She didn't tell you?"

As much as Bob had a difficult time lifting a glass, his heart had no problem dropping into his stomach.

One thing that Bob had always been cursed with from a young age was a hyper-active imagination that rarely ever served his own benefit. Now, it plagued him with the idea of you and Bucky together. Blurry images of you falling into bed together- your laugh in his ear. His lips on yours. His hands running up and down the length of your body...

He could be sick.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

They all had their flaws but Bucky had been forced into a life of heinous acts and had still managed to come out on top. Captain America's best friend. A hero against Thanos. Fuck, he was even a congressman... meanwhile you had been there to witness the vivid memory of Bob high out of his mind working as a sign flipper first hand. He didn't even work for his abilities, he received them on the hunt for another high.

What was he thinking?

Bob's eyes fell to his hands as they fiddled in his lap and he shook his head.

"No uh, no..." He coughed, attempting to mask the tremble in his voice. "She never um.. mentioned it."

"Huh."

"What?"

John took another swig from his bottle.

"Nothing, nothing..." Walker said with a shrug. "I just figured you guys were close. Always hanging out n' all."

And by all means you were.

There was no coffee run complete without Bob's vanilla milkshake, or a night where you fell asleep on the couch without him by your side. He tasted everything you made before it managed to find its way into the oven. He came with you to every bookstore and supermarket run under the guise of 'wanting to feel useful', while really just wanting to observe you in mundanity outside the tower and carry the bags for you effortlessly home.

Him and Yelena were close, but you and him were partners.

Bob had understood that his more-than-friendly feelings for you would likely have been in vain, but he had never considered that yours were already taken by another.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Bob tugged at his hair and scratched the scruff that had begun to grow on his jaw.

"Yeah..." He shrugged. "I mean.."

John sized Bob up, trying to estimate how he was feeling. He was a difficult one to read- chronically calm in the face of adversity as if it was the life he was assigned to live. Staring at the polite smile that Walker could've sworn was glued to Bob's face, he accepted that he wouldn't know.

"Well, anyway," John said. "Time for dinner, right?"

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"Can I ask you a question?"

It was a simple question. One that you didn't think would have much bearing. Afterall, the two of you were finally organizing your bookshelf- the final step in making Avengers Tower your home. You figured that it would be about where to place a book or how you liked it.

You would have never anticipated where the conversation was heading.

You absentmindedly flipped through the pages of one of your paperbacks before slipping it onto the shelf.

"You can ask me anything, Bob." You replied. "I'm an open book."

Bob watched where you were knelt on the floor below. The sun peeking in through the window behind him had cast a golden glow on your face, highlighting the crinkles that formed as you focused on the task at hand.

Did he want to know if you were Bucky's? Now, with the two of you alone in your room, doing a mundane task like organizing your bookshelf he could convince himself that this was his life. That you were his.

The truth could shatter that illusion.

What was he thinking? Of course he wanted to know.

The sound of his sock feet shuffling on the floor pulled your focus from the shelf to his flushed face.

"Is everything okay, Bob?"

You pulled your hand from the pile and laid it gently against Bob's clothed leg.

Bob cleared his throat.

"Are you and Bucky.. are you... did you-" Bob tugged at his hair. "Fuck, uh.. this is awkward. Were you two ever...?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you listened and you swear you felt your blood pressure spike.

How did he know?

Bob was the last person on Earth you wanted knowing about your sex history- especially with someone so close to the two of you. His spluttering only dragged the moment on and you needed a mercy kill.

"Are you asking if Buck and I were a thing?"

Buck. Bob's mind raced. She's the only one in the tower he lets call him that. How did I not notice?

You watched him physically deflate once you posed the question for him- whether that was out of defeat or relief at the awkwardness being stripped from his own hands and shoved into your own, you weren't sure.

Your eyes trailed to the books in front of you.

"I guess, once." You replied trying to even the thumping in your chest. You were never sure of the extent of Bob's powers and if super-hearing had slipped its way into his skillset. "It was a one time thing. I think we just got lost in the heat of it all and when we were done with our mission, we got busy with our own things and it just... fizzled, you know? We're just friends now, Bob."

Without realizing it, your hands had clasped together, circling around one another nervously as you spoke. Noting your demeanor, you picked up another book from the pile.

"Walker just made it seem like-" Bob started.

Of fucking course it was Walker.

You shoved a hardcover into a free space on the shelf with a thud.

"Well Walker's an asshole." You stated flatly, loosing the composure that had been held together by the wringing of your hands. "There's nothing there, Bob. I mean, Buck is a good friend, but he's not the type of guy who'll grab coffee with you, or read your book recommendations, or-" You stopped yourself short, realizing the relationship you were describing was your own. "He's just.. he's not the guy for me."

A silence hung in the air for a brief moment until you could no longer take it.

"I'll be right back."

Before Bob had the chance to argue, you were on your feet, slipping through the door, and rushing down the hallway.

You welcomed yourself inside Yelena's room and shut the door behind you.

"I could kill John!"

Yelena, who had been sat on her bed reading, threw her book to the side.

"Uh, hello?" Yelena said pulling out an earbud. "Have you heard of knocking?"

Waving away her argument, you paced the length of her room.

"Walker told Bob that I had sex with Bucky."

Yelena had become well acquainted with John Walker's slights in the time since meeting him- he enjoyed getting under someone's skin like no other- a natural instigator- though, the team had become immune to it. But watching you now, burning a whole in the carpet with your pacing, Yelena realized she had never seen you so frantic.

"Well?" She asked. "Did you?"

You gave her a pointed look and sighed. That's all she needed to know.

Her jaw dropped.

"When was this!" She shouted, waving her arm in the air.

"Three years ago!" You yelled back. "But that's not the point- the point is that Walker told Bob!"

Yelena, quickly digesting the grenade of a revelation you just threw at her, shrugged.

"Well you just told me," she said. "Who cares if Bob knows?"

"I care!" You said flopping onto the bed. "It's different."

The blonde furrowed her brows.

"Why is it different?"

Staring up at her ceiling, you let out an exasperated sigh.

"Because you're a girl."

Yelena tapped her finger against her chin: "Well Walker knew and you did not care until he told Bob."

"That's because he was there, Yel." You argued. "I wouldn't want Alexei to know either."

A dry laugh escaped her lips.

"That is different." Yelena said. "Alexei would tell the whole world that you had sex with Barnes and the news would call you the Avengers' whore."

You reached for one of her pillows and threw it at her.

"Oh my god, Yelena!"

You hid your face in your palms.

"Not that I am calling you a whore!" She defended herself. "I am just saying-"

"Yelena." You said, face still hidden behind your hands. "Focus."

"I just do not understand why you care if Bob knows!" Yelena said with an exasperated sigh, running her hand in circles on your back. "You two are very close. He won't judge you. I mean, he is very awkward, but I am sure he's had sex before. It won't affect your-"

As if a cartoon lightbulb had appeared above her head, the thought finally came to her. Yelena ceased the motion with her hands.

"Wait." She said, pulling herself away from your touch. "Do you like him?"

You rolled your eyes.

"What are we?" You said, deflecting. "Kindergarteners?"

"Aha!" Yelena said, hopping off the bed. "I knew it!"

Somehow telling another person only made your feelings more real, tangible. Before you could deny that they had ever existed, but now that it was out in the open, you were vulnerable not only to your feelings but Bob's too. You could feel your face burning from the confession and groaned.

"You like Bob!" She said with a pout, as if it were the most wholesome idea in the world. "That is so cute. Why do you not you tell him?"

She asked it as if it were simple. As if the only thing that stood between you and what you wanted was a sentence. And that if things didn't go the way you hoped, that your desires would blow away like dust in the wind.

If anything, the revived information that you had a history with Bucky only further pushed down your inclination to confess your feelings to Bob. If three years had passed since a mutual one night stand and that was still haunting you, how would an unrequited love with your roommate be?

You weren't sure you could take it.

"You're joking, right?" You wrapped your arms around your legs and tucked your knee under your chin. "He's literally 'the golden god'. I mean Bob's just... he's so attractive and fit and nice... there's just no way he would feel the same and then it would make everything so awkward."

Yelena quirked her eyebrow at you.

"I am confused." She said. "Are we talking about the same Bob?"

You gave her a sad smile and swat at her arm.

"Yelena. I'm serious." Your argued. "Just think about it."

Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth, tut, tut, tuting you as she brushed her hand against your forehead.

"Y/n, before you started training with Bob, he could throw us all across the room without even thinking about it." Yelena said, stroking your hair. "Now, he can't even pick up a glass of water. Do you know why that is?"

You hadn't considered it.

"Do I make him uncomfortable?" You asked.

"No! I mean, yes, but it's not like that." She said, pulling away. "You make him so nervous that he cannot think straight. We all know that he's in love with you, we just did not think you felt the same."

You pulled yourself up onto your elbow to get a better look at Yelena, the sheets crinkling under your touch. In your chest, you swore you could feel your heart thumping against its cage.

Bob liked you? You?

As if you were a kid again you felt an adrenaline rush through your veins, begging you to hop off the bed, skip around the room and run into the arms of the man you loved.

But you were an adult who lived with both a man from your past and one who would, hopefully, be your future. Care and precision was needed.

"Really?" You asked, pressing your hand to your chest to steady your breathing. "Don't mess with me, Yelena."

Yelena laughed.

"Oh yes. He is very obvious." Yelena shook her head. "Always making the googly eyes at you when you talk and asking where you are... it's gross."

Without thinking, you closed the space between you and Yelena by gripping her hand.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes." She assured you, squeezing your fingers, "And you should tell him. Now that he knows about Bucky it is going to mess with his head. It is better to tell him soon."

Suddenly, you thought of Bob's feelings. The way he must have felt learning about Bucky.. if you were in his shoes and he had been with a member of your group, you think you would be sick.

As much as you wanted him- to hold him, to tell him you love him and hear it back, to be able to call him yours- it wasn't your feelings that drove you, but Bob's.

Yelena could be wrong, but she could also be right. You couldn't risk the latter by fear of the former.

You'd tell him tonight.

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After your conversation with Yelena, you had headed back to your room only to find it abandoned by Bob. The afternoon had dragged on in agony, avoiding Bob like the plague until dinner. Even once the dishes had been served, wine was poured, and you had relaxed into your seat beside him, it had taken you all dinner to get up the nerve to speak to him again.

Afterall, what if Yelena's intuition was wrong?

"Can we talk after dinner?" You asked.

You turned your head towards Bob and whispered, careful that the other members of the table wouldn't hear. Bob, who had been half-heartedly been picking fries off of his plate the entire dinner, bit his tongue at the sound of your voice.

"Ow- what? Y-yeah," He said with a polite smile. "We can talk."

You smiled.

"Perfect." You smiled. "It's a date."

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Your footsteps were the first thing he heard.

They were soft, hesitant. As if you had to convince yourself to take another step. You had wrapped your sweater tight around yourself to brace the chill that came with being so high above the ground and all Bob could think was he would warm you up if you let him.

But he'd never say that.

Instead, he braced himself against the railing and greeted you with a wordless smile.

"Hey."

"Hi."

You glanced down at your shoes then back to his face.

Just do it.

"I'm sorry that you had to find out about Bucky and I from Walker." You glanced between Bob and the traffic lights on the street below. His stare, so filled with kindness and care, made your breath catch in your throat. "But it's only because it's one hundred percent in the past. And I... was afraid that you'd look at me differently because of it if you knew."

Bob, usually the victim of low self-confidence, hated the look on you. Not because it made you look weak or worthless, no- but that he wished he could take whatever weight it carried in your body and absorb it into his own. Valentina may have called him the golden god, but you were the shining light that kept him him.

"Why?" He asked. "I could never judge you."

Your eyes locked with his and for a brief moment it was like the rest of the world fell away. You studied the blue in his eyes and the way gold specs floated around in them- as if the power within him was always just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. You took it in. If this all went south, at least you could remember him like that.

"Fuck." You laughed, taking a sudden interest in your shoes. "This sounds so childish, but I really don't know how else to say it..." Wrapping your arms tighter around you to brace the wind, you looked up at him and smiled. "I like you, Bob. Like more than... more than I probably should."

A shiver visibly rattled your body as another gust of wind hit. Rather than suggest that you go inside, Bob laid his hands against your arms, warming them.

"What do you... what do you mean by that?" He asked.

"C'mon, Bob." You sighed, shielding your face in your palms and burying your face into his chest. "You know what I mean. I just look at you and don't even know what to do with myself anymore; and I know I'm supposed to be your friend, but I can't keep pretending that I'm not having a heart attack every time you look at me like that."

A deep sigh shook your frame.

"Anyway just tell me you don't feel the same and I'll forget it." You said, "and we can pretend this never happened."

He could feel his heart shatter in his chest.

He knew the tremble in your voice well. The tone. The complete lack of confidence. It was unfamiliar coming from your lips but he had heard it come from his own every time he opened his mouth. To hear it come from you was not just unfathomable, but heart breaking.

How you could think that way about yourself in comparison to him... he couldn't believe it.

"Don't... don't say that." He said no more than above a whisper. "You're like, just perfect to me."

Bob stepped back, leaving space to get a better look at you. Running his hands up your arms, he reached your cheeks. He cupped your face in his hands, gently as if one wrong move would make his earth shatter, and guided your face up to meet his gaze.

"Look, I'm uh.. I'm not good at this whole... relationship thing..." Bob said, eyes darting from your face to your hair, to the space behind you as the glimmer in your eyes made him nervous. "But I- I feel the same... About you."

He laughed. The same sweet, nervous laugh that followed you into your dreams and gave you a reason to come home; and you felt your heart swell at the familiar smile painted on his face- this time for you.

"Really?"

Your fingers clung to the fabric of his sweater as if you feared that if you let go, it would turn out to just a figment of your imagination.

"Yeah."

Tendrils hung in his eyes as he leaned further, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of his skin and and breath fanning your face. When your noses touched, ever so slightly brushing at the tips, you placed your finger against his lips.

Confusion and hurt painted his features until you gestured behind him.

"We have company." You whispered.

Framed by the warm light of the tower behind them, five all-too-familiar figures watched from the doorway.

"Should we be worried about the two most powerful people on the planet being in love?" Ava asked, taking a sip from her glass of wine.

"I'm more worried about the mental stability of their future kids." John deadpanned.

"No!" Alexei argued, slapping his hands against Ava and Walker's backs. "What are you saying? They will make strong babies!" He raised his fist in the air: "And they will be the pride of the New Avengerz!"

"Alexei!" Yelena groaned. "Stop making it weird."

As if Yelena had physically stung him with her words, Alexei's hands flew to his own chest.

"I do not make it weird." He argued. "I am being supportive. How is that weird?"

"They have not even kissed and you are talking about super babies!" Yelena shouted. "You are lucky they cannot hear you."

You called back.

"Oh no, we can hear you!"

Bob pointed to his ears and mouthed: "Super hearing."

Still cradled in Bob's arms, your eyes met Bucky's from across the landing pad. He smiled softly.

"C'mon." Bucky said waving the onlookers inside. "Let's go. Leave them alone."

Waiting until they left your sight, you looked back at Bob and breathed him in. His cheeks had begun to burn a bright pink that was visible even in the dim light of dusk, but he looked at you with eyes that could only be described as love drunk.

"So..." You said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. The palm that still laid flat against his chest felt his heart skip a beat. "Where were we?"

[darkredsugarcookie]

Hi!! I’m new here so I’m sorry if I do this wrong. Just want to send some Thunderbolts!Bucky ideas maybe he called his girlfriend (the reader) for backup (maybe she’s a former shield agent) but didn’t share too many info with the group and they all a little surprised to find out he has a girlfriend

Let me know what you think, thanks!

i absolutely LOVE this!!! Ever since I saw Thunderbolts I've been thinking about almost this exact thing and I got another ask for something similar, so here we are! I'm also tempted to make a part two of this but focus on the two of them more and make it a comfort thing to apologize for my shame room fic LOL

love you 3000!

Signed Up For This

Word count: 1,143

As far as the media knew, the two of you were nothing more than acquaintances. 

But it was a bond that had gone back a lifetime, from when the two of you had first met when you were fresh out of escaping the Red Room, to when he was the contact you had made to get a fresh start on life and he was in the process of trying to make amends with his existence, so he had offered to get coffee. “We both need some… new connections,” he had said, offering that awkward smile that you had fallen for almost as quickly as he’d fallen for you. 

It was your idea to keep it a secret. You knew how he felt about weaknesses and you were currently the only one he really had. If anyone knew the truth… God, it terrified him. The idea of losing the one pure and right thing he’d gained in this side of the century drove him into a panic more often than he’d admit. So he was glad you had brought it up, worried you might be offended or think he was ashamed of you.

Which was what made him making you the head of his security when he decided to run for Congress a little out of the blue, but you took it. Any opportunity to be close. Plus… who said sneaking around at work was for teenagers? 

But tonight, you had a different reason for asking to speak to him in private in the middle of the fundraiser gala. You knew that look on his face. That look that said he was plotting when he very much should not have been. 

“What are you thinking?” you asked, peeking around the corner for a moment before your gaze fixed on him again. It was a miracle his hair had stayed in place, but there was a reason he always made you do it for him. “I can see that look.”

“What look?” he replied, that dumb grin you’d fallen for years ago pulling at his mouth. “I’m not thinking.”

“You are such a liar, James Barnes. I can see it. Whatever you’re thinking, leave it alone. We are past our meddling days.”

“I’m not meddling,” he said. 

You tilted your head. “Do not let this stuff with Valentina get personal. You can’t afford to get in trouble with all this.” 

“The politics don’t—”

“I’m not talking about politics,” you said. “I’m talking about you, Buck. We don’t know for sure what’s going on and we can’t act until we do. Otherwise we’ll be in just as much trouble as she is.”

“I talked to her assistant,” Bucky said. 

“Her assistant? Mel?” 

“Yes. She’s on the fence.” 

“Okay. Tell her to call you when she’s made a decision. Don’t make it your job to change her mind,” you said, taking a step closer. He just stood there a moment, looking you over. Not in that ‘get in the office and take off that dress’ kind of way he normally did, but like he was just taking in your existence. “You told me that my job as your security is to keep you safe. But my job as your fiance is to make sure that we’re not making dumb decisions. Let Mel come to you.”

He nodded, reaching for your waist to tug your body closer. Normally you’d pull away in a setting like this, even hidden, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. Not now. Not when you had that feeling in your stomach that something was just off. And that feeling had never led you astray. “I just make your job harder, don’t I?” he said with a small, teasing smile. 

“You do, but I signed up for it,” you replied. 

“I’ll be good,” he said, nodding. “But… Mel’s just a kid. If she needs help—”

“Help her,” I said. “And if she needs more than that, call me.” 

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your mouth. “My best girl,” he whispered. 

“Always.”

And you should’ve known after that conversation that it was only a matter of time. Within thirty-six hours, you were sent a pin drop link to some place in the middle of nowhere and a message that just said “need you.”

You’d tugged on that leather uniform jacket you hadn’t touched in a long time and braided back your hair before pulling up to some abandoned garage in the middle of nowhere, intel in hand. You could hear voices from inside, something about a “Bob” and exclamations of words you hardly understood. 

You shoved through the rusted door, swiping up on the tab in your hands. “She took over the old Avengers tower,” you said, approaching and offering Bucky the tablet. “Heat signatures say she has the place crawling with security and I ran facial rec on the guy she brought in early this morning.”

“So guns blazing is the only way in,” Bucky said, reaching to squeeze your hand in a silent thank you. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “Guess so,” you replied before turning to the abstract group of circus people tied up in front of you. And John. “What the hell happened here? Bucky, I told you to just leave Walker alone, he’s been through enough.”

“Who are you?” the little blonde in black asked. If you squinted, you might recognize her. Like some sort of really distant, childhood memory. 

Bucky blew out a breath before you could answer. “She’s my fiance.”

“Your what?” came from all four of them. 

“He’s married?” the brunette asked. 

“In the process,” I corrected. 

“How did that happen?” Walker muttered. 

“Oh, that is cute!” the large one exclaimed, seeming to be way too happy considering the circumstance.

You glanced at Bucky, your arms folded over your chest. “This is… who was so important?” 

“They’re witnesses,” Bucky said, giving you a look as if to tell you to be kind. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you looked at the others. “Most ragtag team I’ve ever seen,” you said, shaking your head. “What, exactly, is the plan here?”

“Well, originally, they were my witnesses,” Bucky said, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “But now the agenda looks a little different. Take out Val, help Bob. Then we go home.” 

“Bob?” You asked. “Like Robert?” You took the tablet from his hands and swiped it open. “Yeah, he’s a big deal now. If we’re gonna move, we need to do it fast.” You swapped a knowing look with Bucky as he nodded. “I’ll start the car.” 

As you made your way towards the door, you heard the voices behind you. 

“So you’re really not all bite, huh?” one of the girls said. 

“Someone really does have a soft spot.”

“Isn’t that cute."

And despite yourself, a small smile pulled at your lips.

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

"Seriously!" Bradley yelled. "Stop reaching for the steering wheel!" He slowed down as all three of his passengers started loudly begging him. "You want to look at a bunch of college girls who couldn't care less about you more than you want burgers?" "Hell yes!" Payback sang as Bradley put his turn signal on and pulled into the parking lot where the collegiate softball team was holding a very popular looking car wash. There were so many cars lined up, and a lot of men milling around. Bradley parked next to a pickup truck and eyed the women in wet tee shirts and bathing suits while Jake pounded on the back of his seat. 

Hahah they are truly just teenage boys in grown up bodies 😂

"They are practically naked! Get out so I can get out!" Jake whined. Bradley groaned. "Yes, I see them. And don't call them girls. They're women. And please don't touch any of them. Oh my god, I'm already so embarrassed." "Let's go," Payback said, opening his door. "Time to flirt." "They don't want to flirt with you," Bradley muttered. "You're thirty five."

Bradley wants to be swallowed by the ground right then and there 😂

Bradley headed in the opposite direction, cradling his forehead in his hand. The last thing he wanted was to try to chat up some nineteen year old. He was almost thirty seven, for fuck's sake. But if they wanted to humiliate themselves, that was fine with him. But it didn't mean he needed to watch.

He physically can't watch haha

Jake's shirt was mysteriously missing, and Payback was spraying the hose while a few of the girls screamed. 

And they are only a minute in hahaha

 "Yeah, well, the deans at the college are always amazed by how much money our car wash fundraisers make every summer," you said, smiling at him.

I wonder why lol

"A bit of a handful" is an understatement 😅

"Your friends look like a bit of a handful," you told him. Bradley was treated to the sight of Coyote dancing to the music in the spray of the water.  "Just show them women in bathing suits, and this is what they turn into." You were laughing and gaping up at him, as Bradley quickly added, "They're harmless though! I promise! Your teammates have nothing to worry about! They just like to flirt."

"I used to play third base." And now Bradley was biting his knuckle, because he was thinking about getting to third base with you, unzipping those little shorts in the backseat of his Bronco and slipping his hand inside. "Oh god," he swallowed hard. He was worse than the rest of the guys who were currently covered in soapy water and surrounded by softball players.

Now he understands the others 🤭

You did look a little older than twenty two. And that's probably why you weren't actively washing the cars. He must have been staring for too long, because you were smirking again as you held out your hand and introduced yourself. "Head coach of USD women's softball." He took your smaller hand in his. "My name is Bradley, and I'm really hoping you're going to tell me you're like twenty eight years old?"

I love how realistic he is and looking for someone his age

"So, you played third base? Which school?" "University of Oregon." "Shit. You must be good." "I'm very good," you told him, and Bradley squeezed your hand a little tighter.  "I'll bet you are." "Bet I can guess which position you play," you told him before you bit your lip, and Bradley swore he was never going to let go of your hand. "Okay. Go ahead and guess." "But...if I'm right, you owe me a drink," you said coyly. Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "Then you better fucking get this right."

Their banter and chemistry is already superb👏🏻

Bradley took his sunglasses off with his left hand, and your smile grew. "Listen, as soon as you told me you're not a student, I was absolutely going to ask you out. So all you did was make it easier for me." You pressed your lips together in pleasure, and it was so adorable. "You're still holding my hand." "I know," he confirmed with a nod. "When are you free? Tomorrow?"

And if he could choose he woul9let go of that hand ever 🤭

He smirked at the way you were sassing him before asking, "Is it home or away?" "Home. At USD." "You gonna invite me to watch?" he asked, and you looked so damn pleased with yourself now.  "Would you be coming just to ogle the players?" you asked, nodding toward the soaking wet women who were now spraying the hose at Payback. "You know they wear their uniforms to the games instead of bathing suits, right?" He narrowed his eyes and glared at you playfully. "It's much more likely that I'd be ogling their coach." "Oh, I like that," you told him. "You can come then. And we can get that drink afterwards?"

They are such a great match 👏🏻😍

You glanced to the side and then met his eyes again. "It looks like your car's done. And your friends look like an actual disaster." Bradley groaned as he saw the three of them getting the soap hosed off so they could leave. "Yeah, let me go babysit them for the afternoon. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Tomorrow can't come soon enough for Bradley 😌

 "I can't believe we all struck out today," Payback whined. "We should have just stopped at In-N-Out." Bradley bit his lip and shook with silent laughter. "Yeah, you all struck out. What a shame." But he was already thinking about where he was going to take you out for a second date.

Bradley just shook his head. "Wring out your shirts and get in the Bronco. Nat's already going to kill us, I hope you know that." "Worth it," the three of them said in unison. And while Bradley waited for them to dry off a bit, he sent you a text.

He truly is babysitting them 😅

Hahah this is so good 😂 I really hope Nat gets to hear of this, she is gonna roast them to no end and deserving so 👏🏻

So Fresh, So Clean | Rooster x Reader

Summary: At first, Bradley is mortified when the guys force him to stop at a carwash featuring bikini clad women from a college softball team. But when he meets you there, he starts to think he should thank his friends instead.

Warnings: Fluff and swearing

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

I wrote this for a request and for @wicked-remarks Summer Festival! Check out my masterlist for more!

"Dude, stop at In-N-Out. I'm starving," Payback whined from the passenger seat as Bradley zipped down the road in his Bronco.

"Nah, just stop at Starbucks," Jake argued from the backseat. "I need more caffeine."

"We're going to be late," Bradley groaned, passing the fifth fast food place while Payback whined and pointed out the window. 

"We told Nat we'd be there around noon," Coyote said from the back. "I mean, if we stopped for food, we could grab something for her too."

Bradley rubbed his hand over his face, wondering why he had agreed to drive all of these idiots. "Guys, if I stop, I'm only stopping once. Then straight to the beach. So decide what you want."

Then Coyote started stuttering at the same time Payback said, "Holy shit! Pull over! Pull over!" Bradley looked where Payback was pointing, and then he saw a sign that said University of San Diego Softball along with a car wash and a lot of scantily clad women.

"Fuck caffeine. We're stopping here!" Jake said, practically climbing into the front seat. "Come on, Rooster!" He started trying to grab the steering wheel, and Bradley had to smack his arm away.

"Seriously!" Bradley yelled. "Stop reaching for the steering wheel!" He slowed down as all three of his passengers started loudly begging him. "You want to look at a bunch of college girls who couldn't care less about you more than you want burgers?"

"Hell yes!" Payback sang as Bradley put his turn signal on and pulled into the parking lot where the collegiate softball team was holding a very popular looking car wash. There were so many cars lined up, and a lot of men milling around. Bradley parked next to a pickup truck and eyed the women in wet tee shirts and bathing suits while Jake pounded on the back of his seat. 

"They are practically naked! Get out so I can get out!" Jake whined.

"Chill!" Bradley said, loud enough that he had the attention of all three of them. "You guys need to be on your best behavior. I'm not kidding!"

"Look at them," Coyote said, pulling his sunglasses lower on his nose and whistling. "These girls are hot."

Bradley groaned. "Yes, I see them. And don't call them girls. They're women. And please don't touch any of them. Oh my god, I'm already so embarrassed."

"Let's go," Payback said, opening his door. "Time to flirt."

"They don't want to flirt with you," Bradley muttered. "You're thirty five."

"I dunno about that," Jake drawled, fixing his hair. "That redhead looks like she might like a daddy."

"Oh my fucking Lord, we are going to get kicked out of a fundraiser," Bradley groaned as he climbed out of his door and was nearly trampled by Jake.

"Relax man, I'm about to pay for your car to get washed," he said, shoving Bradley out of the way to get over to the redhead holding a hose. "Hey, sweetheart, my name's Jake...."

Bradley headed in the opposite direction, cradling his forehead in his hand. The last thing he wanted was to try to chat up some nineteen year old. He was almost thirty seven, for fuck's sake. But if they wanted to humiliate themselves, that was fine with him. But it didn't mean he needed to watch.

He thought he had found a nice spot to stand and wait while listening to a car stereo blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. He was out of the way of the guys who were being roped in to helping the girls wash cars now. Jake's shirt was mysteriously missing, and Payback was spraying the hose while a few of the girls screamed.  

"Grown ass men," Bradley muttered, pushing his aviators up higher on his nose.

He heard soft laughter and turned to see you standing next to him. And of course you were gorgeous. And young. And looking up at him with a smirk that he should not have found adorable. 

"Yeah, well, the deans at the college are always amazed by how much money our car wash fundraisers make every summer," you said, smiling at him. He found himself smiling back. 

"My friends almost made me wreck trying to get me to pull over, so I guess that does make sense," Bradley replied with a nod. You were the only one on the team who was still dry, and he could see the straps of your bathing suit tied above the collar of your USD Softball tee shirt. You had on some tiny denim shorts and flip flops, and Bradley bit back a groan and forced himself to look away from you. 

"Your friends look like a bit of a handful," you told him. Bradley was treated to the sight of Coyote dancing to the music in the spray of the water. 

"Just show them women in bathing suits, and this is what they turn into." You were laughing and gaping up at him, as Bradley quickly added, "They're harmless though! I promise! Your teammates have nothing to worry about! They just like to flirt."

"Teammates?" you asked, head cocked to one side.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, really trying so hard not to look directly at you. Fuck, this was getting difficult. He could tell that your bathing suit was red through your snug fitting white tee shirt, and now he was looking at your chest. He pinched the bridge of his nose over his sunglasses and rolled his shoulders, trying to focus on the dirt being rinsed off a filthy car. "Your teammates? Uh, are you a senior? Or team captain or something?"

Your laughter rang out as you said, "No, not exactly."

"Oh. Uh, what position do you play?" He knew he was rambling now. Really, he should just get out of here. 

"I used to play third base."

And now Bradley was biting his knuckle, because he was thinking about getting to third base with you, unzipping those little shorts in the backseat of his Bronco and slipping his hand inside. "Oh god," he swallowed hard. He was worse than the rest of the guys who were currently covered in soapy water and surrounded by softball players. 

"I'm their coach."

Bradley froze, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. "You're the coach? The softball coach?"

"Yeah. They're not my teammates."

Bradley turned to face you and let his eyes drift down your body and back up to your face. You did look a little older than twenty two. And that's probably why you weren't actively washing the cars. He must have been staring for too long, because you were smirking again as you held out your hand and introduced yourself. "Head coach of USD women's softball."

He took your smaller hand in his. "My name is Bradley, and I'm really hoping you're going to tell me you're like twenty eight years old?"

"I'm thirty," you said slowly, still holding his hand and looking at him with a confused smile. 

"Even better," he said, smiling happily and pulling you a little closer by your hand. "So, you played third base? Which school?"

"University of Oregon."

"Shit. You must be good."

"I'm very good," you told him, and Bradley squeezed your hand a little tighter. 

"I'll bet you are."

"Do you play?" you asked, really sizing him up now. 

"Yeah, just on a Navy rec league. But I'm very good, too."

"Bet I can guess which position you play," you told him before you bit your lip, and Bradley swore he was never going to let go of your hand. 

"Okay. Go ahead and guess."

"But...if I'm right, you owe me a drink," you said coyly.

Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "Then you better fucking get this right."

With a bright laugh, you told him, "You look like a shortstop."

"Damn. You are good."

"I'm right?" you asked, and he nodded. "You owe me a drink."

Bradley took his sunglasses off with his left hand, and your smile grew. "Listen, as soon as you told me you're not a student, I was absolutely going to ask you out. So all you did was make it easier for me."

You pressed your lips together in pleasure, and it was so adorable. "You're still holding my hand."

"I know," he confirmed with a nod. "When are you free? Tomorrow?"

You licked your lips. "I'm coaching a game tomorrow, Bradley. You know, since I'm not a student."

He smirked at the way you were sassing him before asking, "Is it home or away?"

"Home. At USD."

"You gonna invite me to watch?" he asked, and you looked so damn pleased with yourself now. 

"Would you be coming just to ogle the players?" you asked, nodding toward the soaking wet women who were now spraying the hose at Payback. "You know they wear their uniforms to the games instead of bathing suits, right?"

He narrowed his eyes and glared at you playfully. "It's much more likely that I'd be ogling their coach."

"Oh, I like that," you told him. "You can come then. And we can get that drink afterwards?"

"Absolutely," Bradley said, and he finally released your hand as he added, "Can I get your number?"

"Mmhmm." 

He retrieved his phone from his pocket, unlocked it and handed it to you. He watched you enter your contact information, and then you handed it back to him, letting your fingers linger on his. "Text me later today, and I'll send you a ticket to the game."

"Sounds good, coach. I can't wait."

You glanced to the side and then met his eyes again. "It looks like your car's done. And your friends look like an actual disaster."

Bradley groaned as he saw the three of them getting the soap hosed off so they could leave. "Yeah, let me go babysit them for the afternoon. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, you will." And then you put your hand on his chest and kissed his cheek before you turned away to help one of your players who was calling for your attention. 

Bradley tucked his phone away and watched you as he made his way toward the Bronco. You waved to him and he smiled back before turning to assess his three sopping wet friends. 

"Rooster, you idiot!" Coyote said, dripping water on the pavement. "You just stood there like a lump, man."

"We got phone numbers," Jake drawled, holding his wet phone while Bradley snorted. 

"Yeah, we did," Payback said, high fiving Jake. "And we're going to meet up with Sylvia and Taylor later tonight at a bar on their campus."

Bradley just shook his head. "Wring out your shirts and get in the Bronco. Nat's already going to kill us, I hope you know that."

"Worth it," the three of them said in unison. And while Bradley waited for them to dry off a bit, he sent you a text. 

Can't wait for tomorrow.

And right before he pulled out of the parking lot, you wrote back.

XOXO

And there was a ticket to the USD softball game for tomorrow afternoon attached. 

"Hey, what the fuck?" Jake said as Bradley drove down the road toward the beach. He had his phone to his ear as he added, "Taylor gave me a bogus phone number!"

Payback scrambled to unlock his phone, and a second later, he had it on speaker. "Oops, it looks like the person who gave you this number is not actually interested in you! Better luck next time!"

"Damn," Coyote said, completely crestfallen. "Sylvia gave us a bogus number, too."

"I spent fifty bucks to get this thing washed for nothing!" Jake complained, gesturing around the Bronco.

"I can't believe we all struck out today," Payback whined. "We should have just stopped at In-N-Out."

Bradley bit his lip and shook with silent laughter. "Yeah, you all struck out. What a shame." But he was already thinking about where he was going to take you out for a second date.

-----------------------------

The way Rooster flirts, just holy shit. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

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@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

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@xoxabs88xox

[pagesfromthevoid]

Honey & Glass | r. r. | 2

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x superpowered!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Mentions of death, Valentina always needs a warning, mentions of abuse and drugs

Author's Note: 👉😎👉

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

Through some divine power, they are not dead. The vault had blown up, throwing them across the hall. She braced herself, like Bucky had taught her, but still slammed hard enough to knock her head against the wall.

She thinks she’s unconscious; she must be. Because she’s in between the shelves of the library at Columbia, listening to the murmurs of students talking about their dissertations and graduation. It’s a strange memory to suddenly have –though she spent plenty of good days in the library when she was in school. But it feels…off. Colder, darker. As she rounds the corner of the shelves, a chill run down her spine.

That voice. 

“I always knew you were a freak,” the young man said. She stands,  watching, as her younger self draws back into the shelf in the library at Columbia. “There’s no way you’re half as smart as you are without cheating.”

“It’s not cheating,” she insisted. “I swear, I’m not —it’s not like that. I just —I can’t —,”

“Can’t what? Can’t help it? Please,” he sneered, lifting her by her shirt now. Her thoughts are frantic; she can hear her own thoughts and she’s in a panic, and there’s no way to help herself. “You know what freaks like you get?”

“Devin, please,” she begged, tears falling. “Please just let me go —I don’t want to hurt you —I don’t know how to —,”

But it’s too late, and she knew it was too late then and it’s too late now. Devin is dropping her, and he’s screaming as he clutches his head between his hands. And she knows that she’s about to see the first time she’s killed someone so she turns away and —

Bob is staring at her; their hands just touching barely. Even with the barest of brushes, he’s radiating heat.

“It’s okay,” he says, though his voice is barely audible. “You had to.”

For several seconds, they simply stare at each other. Fingers brushing, heat radiating off him and a confused horror that has washed over her. But he’s giving her a shy smile, trying to be reassuring. And she’s not sure what’s happening —how that memory flooded her and Bob, when she’s usually in more control. But she settles that it must have been from getting bashed in the skull, and that she’s just. Not in the best place.

*****

“I’m going to distract them,” Bob says, pulling off the gear they had been disguised in when they managed to get into an armored truck. 

“What?” She snaps. “No, no –you can’t do that. They’ll kill you. Do you get that?”

He stares at her, but nods slowly. “It’s okay. I really –I don’t mind. Let me help you guys get out of here.”

Before she can stop him, he’s pushing open the truck’s doors and he's running through the crowd of agents. She hesitates, if only for a second, before she groans and throws herself out of the truck and follows close on his heels. But he’s faster than her, and he’s already standing in front of the vault with the gun in his hands. He’s pointing it at the sky, yelling at the agents to pay attention to him.

“Bob, don’t!” She screams, but one of the agents is grabbing her and holding her back as Valentina approaches her.

“Who the hell is this guy?”

“Don’t hurt him!” She screams, lurching forward trying to reach the director in anger. The agent tightens his grip on her, yanking her backwards. “Don’t! He’s not a threat! Leave him alone!”

But the command falls on deaf ears as a spray of bullets echoes in the empty air. She screams again, tears streaming down her cheeks, trying to force herself out of the agent's grasp. And Valentina is yelling now, taking the walkie from her commander and ordering them to stand down.

When the dust settles, and the silence echoes around them again, she’s afraid to open her eyes. If she opens her eyes, and she sees Bob there –what’s probably left of Bob, at least because no way that many bullets didn’t destroy him –she’s going to be sick. She’s going to cry, and she’s probably going to throw up, and she’s going to have another person’s blood on her hands because she shouldn’t have let him get out of that damn truck. She should have –

“Holy shit.”

The agent holding her loosens his grip, and she drops to her hands and knees in the dirt. The curiosity supersedes the horror, and she dares to look up.

He’s levitating.

Bob is…levitating. And he’s alive. She slowly sits up on her knees, looking up at him with her eyes wide. There’s not a scratch on him; his scrubs are torn to shreds but that’s it. There’s no blood, no bruises. Just…Bob, levitating. 

It’s his eyes that catch her attention though. They’re shifting –they’re not the blue that she’s seen before. They’re still wide, still alarmed, still scared. But irises…they’re almost white. Glowing and dangerous, like you’ve stared at the sun too long and your vision is dotted.

He’s staring at her, brows knit together, fear etched into the lines of his face. She isn’t afraid of him, because she doesn’t think he’s going to hurt her. Maybe she should be –Bucky was the most enhanced person he had ever met until now –but she wasn’t. Bob wouldn’t hurt her –right? They had just spent the better part of a day trying to save each other. But the way he’s staring her down makes her skin tingle and breath catch.

“Get up,” Valentina hisses, grabbing her by the arm. 

“Don’t hurt her,” Bob pleads, which is a strange juxtaposition to how intimidating he seems to everyone else right now. Though, before he gets another word out, he’s shooting into the air, practically spiraling out of control. 

The armored truck has peeled out, and she can vaguely hear Yelena, Ava and Walker’s thoughts disappearing into the distance. Every man for themselves, she supposes. It’s only fair; she got out of the truck. She could have gotten away too. But instead she chased after Bob –thought she could protect him when the reality is that he clearly doesn’t need some little mutant girl to do that.

“I don’t know what you idiots did,” Valentina is saying, though she’s only half paying attention. She’s trying to pull her arm out of the director’s grasp, trying to follow the path that Bob has flown into the air –until she’s watching him plummet back down. “But this is better than I could have ever imagined. You’re coming with me.”

“Like hell I am,” she snaps, turning her attention to Valentina properly now. “I don’t know who that man is –and I don’t know who any of those people are that you sent here –but you sent us to die. If you think for a second that I’m just going to –,”

Bob strikes the ground and an earthquake strong enough to level a small town breaks through the mountain they’re stationed in. Valentina releases her hold involuntarily, but there’s not much she can do as she’s thrown into the side of a truck. 

“Get him back to the lab,” Valentina orders as she pulls herself back together. Mel is looking around, unsure of what to do, but nods slowly. An agent lifts her from the ground again, handcuffing her this time with cuffs that are most certainly meant for someone much stronger than her. “We have work to do.”

*****

“Where the hell is my assistant?” Bucky demands, twisting the metal wrapping around Walker just a bit tighter than he probably needs to.

“With Bob,” Yelena explains, groaning as she stares out the window.

“With Bob. And who the hell is Bob?”

“Hard to explain,” Walker interrupts. “He was just..there.”

“It’s a whole thing, Bucky,” Yelena cuts in. “Bob is part of Valentina’s Project Sentry. Your assistant seems to know more than she should, Valentina sent her to be killed. None of that worked out, so here we are.”

Bucky is about to argue when his phone rings. “What?” He snaps, but his tone softens as Mel tells him who it is. “Is my assistant with you?”

“She’s…here, technically. Somewhere. I don’t exactly know where. But she’s safe –Valentina wants her something relating to Bob.”

“Bob?” Bucky repeats, and the rest of the idiots around him start repeating the name like it’s not the dumbest thing he’s heard today.

“Yeah. Project Sentry. He was a test subject –I just –you need to get back to New York. We’re in the old Avengers Tower and I think Valentina has finally gone off the deep end. I have to go.”

The line went dead and Bucky stared at his phone for a minute, contemplating what to do next.

“Bob.”

“Bob!” The others yell at him, and he groans.

“Listen to me and listen to me carefully,” he starts, pointing at each of them. “This is the plan...”

*****

“Does this look motherly to you?” Valentina asks, twirling some in her scarf.

She stares daggers into the director’s head, willing her head to explode or something equally as violent. There are few people –actually, there are no people she would wish death on –but Valentina was a special exception. However, whatever these cuffs are made out of were definitely meant to prevent her powers from working and she needed them off. 

“You look like a bitch,” she spits. “Which, I guess if you’re considering how much of a bitch my mom was, then yes. You look great.”

“You’re cute,” Valentina comments, flicking the scarf over her shoulder. “I could have killed you, you know. But you’re useful. Especially for our golden boy back there.”

“Leave him alone,” she snaps, glaring still. “I’m not going to help you hurt him.”

The director scoffs, waving her off like she was just a child. “Hurt him? Please. He’s everything I need. Proof that all my hard work and research was right.”

“About what?”

“About creating Earth’s Golden Guardian of Good.”

She makes a face at the name. But Valentina continues. “He’s stronger than all of the Avengers combined. A paradigm of power and goodness. And he’s going to need a good PR specialist to get him ready to greet the public.” Valentina sits in front of her now, crossing her legs. “I told you that you could do great things. Getting Bucky Barnes functional enough to speak on national television? The man could barely address a crowd before he hired you. Now he’s –well, a disgraced congressman because I’m sure he’s not even going to make it a full term –but he’s at least respected more.

“Think about the good you could do with our friend Robert. He’s a mess –but he could be great if you help him. And he already likes you.”

“Have you even asked him what he wants?”

“Who wouldn’t want to be Earth’s mightiest hero?”

She doesn’t like anything Valentina is saying. It’s all bullshit and politics; narcissism disguised as altruism. There’s no way that this woman cares about the good of the world; she just cares about controlling what gets to be good.

She’s right about one thing: Bob needs her help. Not to be a superhero –but to get away from Valentina. 

So she nods slowly, looking up at the woman with narrowed eyes. 

“Fine,” she concedes, swallowing hard. “But I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it to help him.”

“Good girl.” Valentina pulls her to stand, spinning the assistant around and unlocking her cuffs. She wonders, briefly, if Valentina is an idiot and actually giving her full access to her abilities. But the director lifts her wrist and slaps a silver band around it and she knows Valentina isn’t as dumb as she had hoped. “Insurance policy. You try to do anything out of line, you get to find out what it means to really hurt.” 

There’s an annoying smile on the director’s face as she looks over the younger woman finally.

“Now, let’s get you changed into something less....that,” she motions to the outfit that she’s been wearing since she was kidnapped –which is torn, dirty, and singed in places. “And into something more flattering.”

“Fantastic,” she sighs, glaring at the bracelet around her wrist as she follows begrudgingly.

She just needs to play along long enough to get Bob and herself out of this…

“Robert?” Valentina asks, knocking on the door softly. She cringes at the polite facade the director is putting on. Valentina pushes the door open, poking her head in. “Hey honey. Can we come in?”

Bob is laying in the middle of the bed, and she hates to admit it but he looks content. Comfortable. Like this is the most comfortable he’s ever been, really. He sits up just enough to look at Valentina, who pushes the door further to reveal her as well. She gives him a simple wave but Valentina doesn’t wait for any confirmation from him before she enters the room entirely. The director takes the only chair as Bob sits up entirely, criss-crossing his legs in front him. She stands awkwardly at the end of the bed, holding the clipboard that Valentina had given her. 

“Sit,” the director orders –though she’s trying to mask that order as a pleasant sound as she motions to the bed. 

She carefully sits, pulling down the pencil skirt she was given at the same time.

“Robert, how are you feeling?” Valentina asks, resting her hands in her lap.

“Oh, I –uh, well, I think I’m okay,” he manages to get out. “I’m not really…I’m not sure what happened, if I’m being honest.”

“Let our friend here tell you then,” Valentina offers, motioning to her now.

She hesitates a moment. This is a test. She knows this is a test, because Valentina wouldn’t let her just freely talk to Bob unless she knew that the mind reader wouldn’t risk hurting herself or him. It’s frustrating nonetheless, however. With a deep breath, she introduces herself finally.

Even if she’s being forced to do this, she’s still trying to be genuinely nice. It wouldn’t be fair to take any of her frustration out on him. She’s nice because Bob didn’t ask for this. Or –well, technically he did but she doesn’t count a former meth addict’s consent as actual consent.

“You signed up for a medical trial in Malaysia,” she explains, opening up the file she has on her clipboard. She holds it out to him. “You wanted to get help from O.X.E. –so you let them experiment on you for a top secret experiment.”

His brows knit together and he looks at his hands, picking at his nails, as he tries to remember it. She wishes she could see into his head; see and understand what he was working through. If she could just ease these anxieties that are clearly plaguing him, she might be able to actually help him.

“The doctors thought you died,” she continues. “But you didn’t and that’s how we found you in that vault. How you didn’t get killed when the agents shot you.”

“I was just trying to help,” he explains, looking up at her with watery eyes. “I wasn’t –I didn’t want you to get hurt –or any of them, really. I just –I wanted to help –,”

“And you did, Robert,” Valentina interrupts, moving to sit on the bed beside him. “You did help. You saved our friend here, you know. She’s so thankful. And so we want to talk to you about what this could mean for you –for the world.”

“What does it mean?”

“Didn’t it feel good, helping her?” Valentina prompts, motioning to her. Bob nods slowly, though he’s staring at her and she bristles under his gaze. “Imagine how good it would feel to help the entire world. How good it would feel to be a hero.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but stops. His eyes shut, and he takes a deep breath. “I’m not…I’m not great at helping. I just make things worse, usually.”

“Bob, do you want to be a hero?” She asks before Valentina can interrupt. She slides closer, tilting her head to the side.

“I just –I always make things worse. Burden people. I have days where I’m really good, and everything is okay, but most days are…bad. I don’t think…I’m not a hero.”

“You could be,” Valentina insists, reaching out to touch his hand.

Bob is staring at Valentina now, who has gone quiet. Her eyes are blank, glossed over. Bob isn’t speaking; he’s just watching the director, who comes back with a small gasp. She looks alarmed; the mask of confidence has dropped and the director is standing and pulling away from Bob with trembling hands.

“I…will come back in a little while,” she murmurs, turning to leave the room.

Bob quickly moves to stand, but Valentina takes a step away from him. He looks hurt, turning to her now like he’s asking if he’s okay but then he looks back to the director.

“Wait –I…I can control it. I promise.”

Valentina just nods, smiling uncomfortably, then leaves the room without a word. She sits on the end of the bed, watching the interaction curiously. Bob sits in the chair now, hunched over and covering his face with his hands. He’s mumbling something to himself, but can’t make out what it is.

For a second, she hesitates. She��s not sure what just happened –Valentina’s reaction to touching Bob was alarming to say the least. To shake the director so badly that she didn’t even consider yanking the young woman out with her…there was something wrong with Bob, but she wasn’t quite sure what. If she could just get this stupid bracelet off, if she could just get into his head a little bit…

“The other day,” Bob suddenly says, though his voice is muffled behind his hands. She shifts her attention to him properly, moving to sit closer to him now, facing him. “When we touched –you said you made me see something.”

She nods, crossing her ankles as she leans forward some. Her elbows rest on her thighs as he pulls his hands away from his face just enough to look at her. “I can project thoughts into people’s minds, Bob,” she explains gently. “I think I lost control after getting hurt. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“You didn’t…you didn’t do that, though,” he says, dragging his hands over his face before finally dropping them into his lap. “I did it.”

Her brows furrow, considering his words carefully. Thinking back to their interactions –their brief touches. Him touching Walker and Yelena, and now de Fontaine. She had touched his shoulder when she had made fun of Walker, and was suddenly in Columbia. When she came to after the explosion, they were touching hands. 

“Can you…show me again?” She asks, reaching out to touch his hand. But Bob pulls away, shrinking into himself as he shakes his head. “You’re not going to hurt me, I promise.”

“I can’t,” he insists, shaking his head still. “I’ll just hurt you. I don’t…you’ve been so nice. I don’t want –if I hurt you, you’ll leave. And I don’t want that –,”

“I won’t leave,” she insists, tapping the bracelet on her wrist. “If you can help me get this off, I can almost guarantee you won’t hurt me. But I need this off first. Can you help me do that?”

He hesitates, staring at the silver band around her wrist. “What does it do?”

“I’m not sure,” she admits, holding it out to him slowly. “But I’m scared to find out. That’s why I need you to help me. Can you?”

There’s still hesitation –he looks to the door, which is shut, but she knows he’s waiting to see if someone walks in. When no one does after several minutes, he touches the metal, considering how to do it without hurting her. 

“Whatever you need to do.”

It’s quick –quicker than she anticipated –but he pries the band off her wrist without much effort. He looks it over curiously before handing it back to her, and she examines it. She’ll either need to put it back on when she’s around Valentina or ensure that it’s properly broken so she can just wear it as a decoy, so she slips it back on. She looks at Bob now, who looks very confused by the fact that she’s putting it back on.

“Valentina wants me to wear it. I need to make sure it doesn’t work –can I see if I can read your thoughts?”

“Oh –that’s not –I don’t think you want to do that. They’re…loud.”

“It’ll be quick –you’ll feel a weird little tingle at the base of your skull and I’ll be right out.” She holds up her pinky, smiling at him reassuringly. “Pinky swear.”

Bob slowly latches his pinky with hers and nods once. He cringes when the tingle goes up his spine, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. She’s flooded with several things as soon as she touches him. His thoughts –loud like he promised. They’re scrambled –not sticking to one thought for long before moving onto the next. He’s trying to focus –she can tell he’s trying –but he can’t. It’s her nightmare in the library; the first and last time she killed someone by overwhelming their brain so much it caused an aneurysm. But then it’s his nightmares –a man yelling at a boy, a woman telling the boy he always makes things worse. A man in a chicken suit. A shadowy figure, just at the edge of a room.

Then she pulls away. It’s a lot all at once, but it’s gone as soon as she’s not touching him. He looks concerned, eyes trailing over her as if ensuring he hadn’t broken her somehow. But she shakes off their combined thoughts, taking a breath and looking up at him.

“See? All good, like I said.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but she doesn’t have time to linger on this as Valentina returns to the room. Her mask of confidence is back in place. “Sorry about that. Robert, sweetie, get some rest. You and I have a lot to talk about so I need you to be at your best. You,” she points at the mind reader, who is glaring at Valentina from her position on the bed. “Come along. We have a few things to discuss.”

“Can she come back?” Bob asks, standing as she does. 

“Of course,” Valentina promises, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We have a few things to talk about then she’ll be the one to come get you –how’s that sound?”

He nods, though his eyes stay on her as they take their leave.

She glances back at him, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be okay,” she promises, holding up her pinky, as Valentina shuts the door.

[tranquilreign]

at arms length I. | mini series

- © tranquilreign - all rights reserved | DO NOT STEAL, TAKE, or COPY any of MY WORK without MY PERMISSION.

pairing; jungkook/reader genre: angst, angst, angst, ex best friends au! college au! warnings: jungkook's a dick, bullying(?), swearing word count: 1.7k synopsis: you and jungkook have been best friends since childhood, and you believed nothing could go wrong. but when you hear him talking about you to his friends, you realise just how much he hated you. parts: at arms length II.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Everyone knew you and Jungkook were best friends. Someone even believed you were dating, given how close you were. You were always there for him when he had girl trouble, and he was always there for you when you needed a shoulder to cry on.

You were inseparable. Friends since you were four years old, there was no doubt you cared deeply for one another.

Or so you had thought.

Your back was pressed against the wall outside one of the lecture halls, hand pressed over your mouth to quieten your sobs. Jungkook sat on one of the tables, his other friends sitting around him, laughing.

"Is she really that bad?" Yoongi asked, uncertain of Jungkook's words. Your friend scoffed.

"Honestly, she never leaves me alone. I had hoped that when we graduated, she'd attend a different college."

The majority of the group laughed at Jungkook's so-called misfortune. Yoongi and Jimin were the only ones who seemed to disagree.

"Kook, she's been by your side since you were kids. She's been nothing but good to you," Jimin spoke, frowning.

You appreciated his words. You had always liked Jimin; he was kind and genuinely cared about the feelings of others. You thought Jungkook was like that, too. But it was clear he was only playing pretend.

Jungkook continued to talk. Pointing out your flaws and sharing secrets you had trusted him with. Tears flooded down your cheeks, his words stinging with each insult.

"Jungkook, that's fucked up," Yoongi snapped at the younger boy. "I'm going for lunch, I'll catch you later."

Yoongi moved toward the door. You panicked, wanting to run, but your feet wouldn't move. You shrank as Yoongi reached the door. His eyes immediately fell on you, watching as you opened your eyes to stare back at him. You shook your head, pleading with him not to expose you. At that moment, Jungkook called out to him.

"What is it?" he asked, maintaining eye contact.

"Save us a table, yeah? We'll be with you shortly."

Yoongi didn't respond. Instead, he gently grabbed your wrist and tugged you along with him. You were numb, stumbling over your feet, trying to keep up with him.

No words were exchanged between you, as Yoongi brought you out to the car park and brought you to his car.

"Get in," he said softly, opening the door to the passenger seat.

You hesitated, but eventually accepted, settling into the car and sitting comfortably. Yoongi shut the door and moved around to the driver's side.

He sighed when he opened the door, leaning over it. Confused, you looked out of the window to see Jimin running towards him.

"What do you want, Jimin?" Yoongi asked bluntly.

Jimin explained that he decided to join Yoongi for lunch, too. However, when he saw you with Yoongi, he grew worried and ran after both of you.

"I just wanted to make sure she was okay."

"Get in," Yoongi sighed.

Jimin nodded in response, moving into the back seat behind Yoongi. You were still, yet your tears continued to fall. Yoongi climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

Silence followed as he drove away from the campus grounds, the light rain tapping against the windows. Your mind raced with Jungkook's words.

Had everything you'd been through together meant nothing to him? How long had he hated you for? Why was he so cruel, sharing your secrets?

The car had come to a sudden stop, and you looked around robotically. Yoongi had brought you to his house. Both he and Jimin helped you out of the car, out of fear that your legs would give out.

Jimin held your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, while Yoongi unlocked his front door. Once inside, they led you to the couch. Jimin carefully sat you down but kept hold of your hand. Meanwhile, Yoongi went into the kitchen to prepare something for everyone to eat.

"Y/n, love," Jimin soothed, rubbing his hand up and down your back comfortingly. "Don't suppress it. It's okay to let it out."

As if something had been holding you back, you finally let go. Your heart ached as a gut-wrenching cry escaped your lips. You leaned forward, crying into your knees. Your sobs continued, the memories you had with Jungkook flashing in your mind every time you closed your eyes.

Jimin could only rub your back comfortingly, not wanting to speak as you cried. Yoongi stood in the kitchen, leaning forward on the countertop, head hanging forward.

Your cries echoed throughout the house. Jungkook was your best friend. The one who was always by your side when times got tough. It felt strange, Jimin holding you instead of him.

Jungkook always knew how to calm you down best. He gently stroked your hair while whispering words of comfort. He would slowly rock you back and forth, the swaying helping you relax.

You had finally sat back up, struggling to breathe, hyperventilating. At that moment, Yoongi had stepped back through with food and placed it on the table. He sat opposite you in the armchair, waiting until you were ready.

You cried until you could cry no more, your eyes stinging from how dry they had become. It felt as if all emotion had left your body, reducing you to a shell of who you once were.

You leaned back in the chair, letting your head fall back as you stared at the ceiling. Jimin and Yoongi watched, unsure of what to say or do. Finally, you spoke.

"Thank you for taking me away," you whispered, voice breaking.

Yoongi said nothing, instead leaning forward and taking your hand in his. He caressed your knuckles with his thumb, noticing how cold your hands were.

"You can stay here for as long as you need," Yoongi explained. "I live alone, so no one will bother you."

"I can go to your dorm and get your things as well," Jimin offered.

You nodded, moving slowly to grab one of the bowls of food. Noodles. Something Jungkook would prepare for you when you were sick. Yet, you still ate, wanting nothing more than for this pain to subside.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Weeks had passed, and Jungkook hadn't seen or heard from you. It was like you had disappeared off the face of the earth. He would try texting and calling you every day, wondering what had happened, yet you never responded.

Jimin and Yoongi played along, pretending not to know of your whereabouts, and feigned concern when Jungkook mentioned you. They offered to try and reach out to you, which Jungkook appreciated.

You already knew Jungkook would try and use his friends to get a hold of you, and it was something Yoongi and Jimin said they wouldn't do.

Jungkook was surprised when he saw you walk into the canteen one day, dropping his sandwich back onto his plate. He stood up abruptly, catching the attention of his friends. Yoongi and Jimin exchanged looks, just as surprised as Jungkook.

Your eyes held no emotion as you walked over to the food station, grabbing whatever was to your liking. Jungkook, without realising, was walking towards you, his pace quickening into a light jog.

"Y/n," he breathed.

You froze at his voice. You knew this was going to happen, yet his voice still surprised you. Taking in a deep breath, you turned around, staring at him blankly. He was taken aback by your eyes, never having seen them so distant.

"Where have you been. I've been worried sick."

You shrugged.

"I just needed some time," you answered.

Jungkook grabbed your upper arm as you turned to walk away. The feel of his fingers sent a rush of memories flooding back from the times you had playfully fought or laughed together. Shaking his hand off, you set your tray down and continued walking away. Jungkook frowned and followed after you.

"Needed time from what?" Jungkook asked, trying to keep up with you. When you ignored him, he grew more frustrated. "Y/n, look at me!"

You finally stopped, spinning round to look at him.

“I haven’t seen you in weeks, and you come back as if you don’t know me?” Jungkook asked, visibly upset. “I’ve been worried sick! You didn’t answer my calls or texts. I thought something bad had happened.”

You scoffed.

"You were worried?"

"Yes!"

"Funny that," you snapped. "I was just doing what you wanted. Leaving you alone."

Jungkook's brows furrowed in confusion. Where had this all come from? He went to take your hand, but you pulled away from him.

"I heard you. I heard everything you had to say about me to your friends!" you yelled.

Jungkook finally understood. His shoulders dropped, and his face paled. He had been caught. He couldn't keep eye contact with you anymore, looking away in shame. You laughed at how pathetic he looked.

"You don't get to be upset, Jungkook. You hurt me! We've been best friends since we were children!"

You finally released everything you had been wanting to say to him. You yelled and screamed at him for what he had done, exposing him not only for belittling you but also for sharing the secrets you had trusted him with.

"I loved you, Jungkook. I loved you like you were my brother; you were the only one who stood by me when times were tough. When it felt like everyone was against me."

"Y/n... I-"

"Save your breath," you cut him off. "You've made it clear how you feel. Never speak to me again, we are no longer friends. And never will be friends again."

With that, you walked away. Jungkook stood by himself, watching as you left, disappearing from sight.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

hi guys, sorry for a little bit of heartbreak here, I was kinda in my feels when I thought of this one.

if you enjoyed it please take a look at my other works or if you're interested in requesting an idea/or have a prompt click the links below!

masterlist | requests | request rules | prompt list

tranquilreign~

[homeofthelonelywriter]

gamer!Ghost x f!gamer!reader | Previous Part

Before his lips could press against yours, you suddenly felt fur against your legs and jumped back with a quiet shriek. Simon’s eyes widened at your reaction, but a frown took over his face as he glanced down. You followed his eyes, seeing Riley sitting between you two and facing you, with his tongue out and what almost looked like a smile. A laugh bubbled out of you as you clutched your chest.

“You scared me, Riley.” Ignoring the look Simon was giving you, you crouched down and started petting the floof ball, whose tail immediately started wagging. Behind him, Simon mumbled something about a ‘cockblocker’ while running his hand through his hair. “I’ll quickly shower, okay, love? Make yourself comfortable in the meantime.” You smiled and nodded, not paying any further attention to him.

But before he left, Simon gently grabbed your chin and tilted your face up to steal a quick kiss. “’ll be back in a sec.” And then he left and closed the bathroom door behind himself, while you were a crouching and blushing mess. For a few moments, you just remained like that before shaking yourself out of your stasis. Your eyes immediately connected with Rileys, and you scoffed with a grin. “Your dad is the worst.”

By the time Simon emerged from the bathroom, you had brought his things from the living room and quickly made the bed, before getting comfy like he said. Doomscrolling had once again trapped you, but the bathroom door opening saved you. You glanced up, expecting to just quickly say ‘hi’, before returning your attention to the phone, but once you looked up, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. Simon stood there, naked, safe for a towel wrapped around his waist. His torso was still wet, beads of water rolling over muscles as his towel-dried hair fell into his eyes.

Play it cool, play it cool, play it cool. Do you know that scene from Sherlock, where they are at John’s wedding and Sherlock is recounting how John asked him to be his best man and how he responded, just to realize that he never actually responded, and instead just stared at him. Yeah, that’s you.

“You okay, love?” Simon saunters closer, a cocky grin on his lips. And while you’d like to respond that you are totally cool, nothing comes out from between your slightly parted lips. “What’s wrong? Cat’s got your tongue?” He leans over you, occasional water droplets hitting your skin.

You continue to stare, making him chuckle. “Yeah…that’s how I felt, seeing you in my shirt.” He leaned down and pecked your cheek before straightening up again and walking back into the bathroom, the pair of joggers you decided not to wear now in his hands.

The bathroom door closing pulled you out of your stupor, and you quickly shook your head, blinking a few times. Then you turn to Riley, who was curled up by your legs, and looked at him, like ‘What the hell just happened?’. But the dog just cocked his own head and blinked at you, just as clueless.

A few minutes later, Simon reemerged, this time more or less dry and clad in a pair of sweatpants. “Got what you need for the night?” You nodded and watched as he turned off the ceiling lamp, before getting into bed on his side. Almost immediately, two strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you against his chest. You chuckled as you were dragged across the mattress, before slowly turning around so you were facing him.

“Hi.” He smiled, nudging your nose with his. “Hiya, love.” A grin spread across your lips as you reached up and cupped his cheek, gently stroking over the stubble. For some time, you just gazed at each other, like lovesick teenagers, before he spoke up. “I’m really glad you’re here.” You chuckle, shifting closer. “Me too, Si.”

You smiled against his lips as he closed the gap for a quick peck, before pulling you closer, so you could rest your head on his chest. “Good night, lovie.” You just grinned, head on his chest, arm around his waist. “Good night, Simon.”

Next Part | Coming Friday the 9th

A/N: There we go. I apologise for the delay. <3

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[iamthatonefangirl]

YOU WANTED more thoughts?? here i am.

mean n possessive dads best friend bucky whose always known you have a crush on him

OR (and?)

also you yapping n overthinking and bucky stopping you by fucking you

-@nevereclipse

sneaky - nsfw dbf!bucky barnes

please be warned this is... deranged. uncle kink. (not actual uncle because it's dbf) BOTH ARE FULLY GROWN ADULTS 18+ OKAY. you have been warned, read at your own discretion.

~~~

sneaking around with your dad's best friend probably wasn't the best idea you'd ever had.

what made it worse? every time your dad referred to him as your "Uncle Bucky." you cringed every time you heard it.

yeah, that's who he was to you your whole life. but hearing it now, knowing what you knew...

it put a bad taste in your mouth. a reminder of what you absolutely should not be doing.

but the way he fucks you isn't worth giving up just for peace of mind.

you wonder, sometimes, if that's what people who cheat on their partners think. that no matter how wrong it is, how many people you hurt, it just feels too goddamn good to give up. they're willing to go to insane lengths to keep the secret and keep their families together. they want to have their cake and eat it too.

because even though neither of you are cheating on anybody, that's exactly what you're both doing.

~~~

"fuck, that's my girl," he groans as you get down on your knees in front of him. you'd been sitting on his couch, watching something on netflix, anything, when you got carried away. only thirty seconds into the show.

maybe you're just insane, but there's something about being on your knees for him, bowing down to him, knowing how wrong this is...

he's supposed to be a father figure in your life, and what are you doing? you're blowing him with no remorse for your actions. you've done it before, and you're looking forward to doing it again.

his hands massage your scalp, encouraging you, "come on. be good. you can take it all," he says, pushing further into your throat and holding your head there, making you take it.

"love seeing you take all of me. love knowing I'm the only one who gets to fuck this little throat, huh? ain't that right? my own personal call girl?"

you nod as best you can while he holds you in place.

"yeah. my little girl. all grown up now, such a slut for her uncle, huh?"

your face warms so much you feel like you're sitting in front of the furnace. he loves rubbing this in your face, reminding you of what you're doing, forcing you to get off on it.

"that's right. you know your place, I know you do. I taught you so well."

he holds you there for you don't know how long, massaging your scalp down to the back of your neck, before bringing his hand to the front of your throat and pressing on where it bulges, thanks to him.

"my girl," he hisses. "none of those little college boys can fuck you the way you need. you needed someone you know, someone you trust, ain't that right?"

you might cry from how embarrassed and turned on you are right now.

"that's right. so needy for my cock, every fucking time, knowing how stupid you're being. you just can't get enough."

you're startled when his phone rings. he doesn't bother moving you, making you sit there while he looks down at the screen to see who it is. when he ignores it, you finally relax.

"you know I've been taking care of you your whole life, darlin'. course I'm gonna take care of you now. gotta take care of all your little needs cause no one else can, not like Uncle Bucky can."

and then, your phone rings in your pocket.

"fuck, is he calling you now?" Bucky groans.

and that's when you freak, shoving yourself off of him and falling backwards onto your ass on the floor. you reach for your phone in your back pocket.

Bucky asks you, "the hell are you doing? you're not done."

your voice is fucked when you quickly tell him, "my dad knows I'm with you! I told him we were getting dinner!"

Bucky's eyes widen. normally you tell him you're at a friend's place.

he nods and you hurry to answer.

"hey, Dad..." you try, clearing your throat, trying not to sound like you're absolutely wrecked.

"yeah, no we got takeout... yeah, Bucky's outside... yeah..."

you eventually hang up the call, both of you sitting there, startled.

no matter how much Bucky taunts you about it, it's not fun when you're reminded of the reality.

"he asked me why we didn't invite him and my mom," you tell him quietly from your spot, still on the ground.

you're both silent for a minute, the tv still playing in the background as you the awkward moment drags on and on.

you eventually both decide it's best to call it a night.

~~~

you both know better than to be reckless at this point.

but sometimes, you just can't help it.

you were trying to hop in the shower one afternoon, turning on the water, waiting for it to steam up the room. minute after minute ticked by as you stood there, naked, pleading the water to get hot.

you curse the universe when it doesn't, because it's just your luck that your dad isn't home to fix the problem.

so you shut off the water, wrap a towel around yourself, and go sit on your bed while you make a call.

"hey you, what's up?" he asks.

"can you come fix my pipes?" you tease.

Bucky stutters for a moment. "wow, that's... bold of you to say. I take it your folks aren't home?"

"you're right, they're not. but no, I'm being serious, the hot water won't turn on. can you come over and take a look at it for me?"

"yeah, sure. be over in a few."

you don't bother putting on any clothes, waiting around for the knock at the door still clad in your bath towel.

when you answer the door, you can't help yourself.

"oh, mister, however am I supposed to repay you?" you ask, pretending to be distraught, but it's ruined by the fact that you can't stop laughing as you say it.

"you're insufferable," he teases, stepping inside and yanking the towel from your form as he walks to the closet where the hot water heater is.

"hey!" you yell, reaching for the towel again.

"nothing I ain't seen before. besides, it'll encourage me to do my best work if I got an incentive for payment, don't ya think?"

that's how you end up in the shower together, hot water fixed, thirty minutes later.

he's got you pinned against the ice cold tile wall, hooking one of your legs up and around his waist. his fingers trace the skin of your thigh, his other hand behind your head to keep it from hitting against the hard wall.

"yeah, that's it. gonna let me use you, aren't you?"

"yes, yes, Bucky," you whine. he's teasing you, running his tip up and down your folds. he stares down at the sight, working you up to make you so desperate you'll do whatever he wants.

you start begging way too soon. "please, Bucky, I can't wait. please," you say, drawing out the last syllable.

he has no mercy, continuing to tease, before pulling back entirely.

"Bucky!" you cry, the only word in your mind.

"you know what I want to hear," he whispers in your ear.

he did this on purpose. he always does this on purpose, goddamnit.

"please, Uncle Bucky?"

he groans in approval, finally pushing himself into you, opening you up for him once again.

except it doesn't last long, because with the water raining down on the both of you along with the force of his motions, neither of you can keep your feet in place, and you keep slipping.

"god, least we tried," he laughs, turning off the water and picking you up bridal style to take you to your bedroom.

he barely gets the chance to lay you down when you hear the front door unlock downstairs.

you make eye contact. you're fucked, you're fucked.

"go put on your clothes. spray your shirt with the shower nozzle, tell him I sprayed you after you fixed the hot water," you whisper to him, pushing him off of you.

you both scramble to put on your clothes. Bucky does as you instructed, and you freak out when you see your sheets covered in water. you didn't bother using your towel, which clearly, was a bad move.

you're pretty sure your dad buys the excuse.

~~~

a few weekends later, your parents invite Bucky over for family dinner. he texts you before coming over, "wear a skirt for me, pretty girl."

now, as you sit at the table eating dinner, you know why.

he sits there, trailing his prosthetic fingers up and down your thigh under your skirt, all while your parents talk to him like normal. there's very little for you to contribute, so you're lucky you can focus on keeping your shit together while he messes with you, occasionally pinching your skin to keep you on edge.

"Bucky, we have something to ask you about," you hear from across the table.

his hand stops, and your jaw freezes in the middle of chewing.

"uh, what's that?" he asks them.

"we think there's something you're not telling us. and we think it's something you're both keeping from us."

you're fucked. you're done for. it's over.

"it's not what you think-" he begins, only to be cut off.

"have you started seeing someone? you've been happier lately. and knowing our daughter, she's probably already figured it out, but you've sworn her to secrecy, right?"

you let out a sharp exhale.

you're safe.

"yes, yeah. that's exactly it," he tells them, continuing to make excuses that he didn't want to say anything yet, it's still new...

his hand begins moving under the table again.

~~~

later that evening, you express a craving for ice cream.

"I'll take her," Bucky says before anyone else responds. "and I'll have her home before curfew."

you feel a pang in your chest when your dad assures Bucky, no need. we trust you with our daughter.

you know Bucky feels the guilt hit, too.

it doesn't stop you, though, from finding an empty parking lot and getting in the back seat as soon as possible.

"fuck, what would you have done if they'd found out, hmm? would you have admitted you had a thing for your uncle, baby?" he taunts, moving your hips down on his as you straddle him, riding him the way he likes.

the windows are already coated in condensation, the both of you so eager and pent up from the stress of the evening.

"no," you pant, tossing your head back.

he brings a hand to your throat, making you look at him.

"nuh-uh. you're gonna watch me while I fuck you. you're never gonna forget who it is that's fucking you like this, you hear me? I'm never going to let you forget."

~~~

when he drops you back at your house that evening, your mom asks, "vanilla?"

"I'm sorry, what?" you ask, confused.

"you get vanilla? you got some white stuff right there," she points to the corner of your lips.

you don't tell her you didn't go for ice cream.

~~~

guys I am sorry for this one... I had to

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[ruinix]

can dark quinn fuck reader while she's asleep?

Lovely, hey there. So. Um.. dark!quinn...just a lil thot, okay? 😶‍🌫️🫣 First, lil confession, I wanna be claimed just like that y'know. Yes, I am a whore. Anyway...this is more of a ramble. My head is a mess. Also...don't ask if it's gotten too long. This did not happen.

Don't come for me. This is truly dark. You've been warned.

Whore thoughts. Dark. Deranged behavior. Somnophilia. Non-con. Drugging. Manipulation. This is dark, y'all. Dark. Dark!!! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

You were always a heavy sleeper. Sure, you had trouble sleeping, but once you were out, you were out. Quinn knew that. He would be a bad boyfriend if he didn't.

Afterall, he was the one who always woke up first for his early practice, the one who tried to pry your vice-like grip every time, the one who tried banging the cabinets during the morning to make sure, to constantly test your sleep. The one who touched your pussy through your panties until your arousal slicked it, until soft moans escaped your lips.

Then came the problem. You would rouse, stirring then slowly wake up, before he could make you come, before he could further his debauchery. Fucking always.

You would be so confused, too sleep-drunk, too innocent that you would just assume Quinn's cuddling you.

Even for so long, you never put two and two together. Not a clue with his touches. With his lack of care that he never asked for your consent through these acts. Well, why would he need such a thing when he owned you? Every single fiber of your being was his.

Your body that could no longer reach the heights of an orgasm without his touch. The number of times you came running towards him with tears of frustration in your eyes because no matter what you do--no matter what toy or technique--you couldn't come. The number of times you called him whining while he was on a road trip because you got so horny, yet you couldn't do a single fucking thing to help yourself.

Your mind that couldn't choose anything for yourself. Always seeking his opinion. Before, you would just go out with your friends whenever you like. Now, you preferred staying home just because Quinn planted seeds of doubt about your friends not being good for you, about them only using you because of how sweet you were, which were all not false. They were using you to get to him. You were so naive to see through their elaborate trap, so Quinn easily manipulated the circumstances that you had to break off the friendships. You didn't need them anyway. Not when you have him.

Not all of your friends were using you though. Some were good. Too good, too fucking nosy, trying to get you to see how twisted he was. Quinn can't have that, so he got rid of them too. Threats. Blackmail. He did it all, making you think they just dropped you, which made you more needy for his company.

Your soul that sang with his. So bright and innocent when you stared at hum like he hung the moon. So adorable when he fucked you so hard that he left you sore for days with bruises painting your neck, your hips, your thighs, and everywhere else. Still, you looked at him with heart-shaped eyes.

You've been such a perfect girl to love, fuck, and manipulate. So perfect, really. Except you kept waking up when it was about to be more interesting. When he was about to consume you in a different fucking level. When all he wanted was for you to come around him while you were still in dream-fucking-land. Was that too much of an ask?

So, Quinn moved.

He took his time researching things that would keep you asleep. He acted like a damned insomniac, going to a shrink and telling him he needed something to help him sleep, expertly twisting the truth, emphasizing he needed something to get him to sleep throughout the night. It was so easy. One trip to the pharmacy, he got his prescription along with bottles of melatonin and magnesium.

Getting you to drink the supplements was simple. Your eyes were twinkling as you take it as him being concerned with you. You happily take them. No questions. Not a single doubt or concern. You just take and take. Everything he gave you.

Quinn was always patient. Always bidding his time. He won't use his supposed prescription yet. Touching and testing if the supplements were enough. They were not. Therefore, he used them, telling you he saw a better additional supplement.

He waited and waited for your protest, even a question on what the fuck it is because one would normally ask, but alas, you said:

"Okay."

Then you grinned at him with such innocence that Quinn wondered how on earth did you survived this cruel world. No matter. He was here to keep you safe from anything else but him. He loved the pureness you offer. So pure that he must corrupt.

He watched. Within minutes, you were out like a light. Your body was in a supine position under the blankets, your chest moving with your every breath. Like a princess. His very own sleeping beauty.

One tug, the sheets were off. He could see the goosebumps on your skin, your nipples hardening under your silk night gown. He ran his hands over your thighs, spreading them, pushing the fabric up and up and up, exposing your lace panties. Slowly, he touches your clothed pussy, feeling along your folds, teasing your clit down to your entrance and back up.

Soft. You were so soft and getting so drenched. The need to smell you overtook him, not giving a shit anymore if the drug would actually keep you asleep. He just hooked one thigh over his shoulder, pressing his nose on your pussy and smelled your feminine musk. So divine as he started to lick over the lace.

Just one taste and he lost it. Like a feral beast who had not eaten for days, he licked and sucked and nipped, almost laughing as he heard your little whines, preening at how your hips jerked so slightly. Then he stared right at your face, waiting for you to wake but you didn't. Fuck yes.

He could barely think straight anymore. He tore your panties, slapping his cock against your quivering pussy, rubbing himself on you until he was coated by your arousal as his pre-cum dripped down his length. The way your thighs twitched, your eyebrows frowning, your barely there 'hmmm'. Everything etched in his brain. As he slowly sank his cock into your pulsing heat.

He fucked you slowly. Every thrust was full and deep. Your tits moved, bouncing, luring him in for a taste, so he indulged. Using his teeth to tug the neckline of your nightgown then he sucked your pebbled peak. One by one. he could feel your walls spasming for a mini orgasm. So adorable.

Your troubled moans filled his brain. He could basically feel your body trying to wake up, could feel the dream your mind was showing you. He was also fucking you in your dream, wasn't he? How hard was he going? Were the pathetic sounds coming out of you supposed to be your pleas to fuck you harder?

He supposed they were. What else could they be? You were always such a slut. It must be maddening for you not to get what you wanted.

"I know, my love. I know," he whispered in your ear, groaning when your pussy squeezed so tight around him that he almost came. "Let's take our time, okay? Fuck. We got the whole night."

It didn't matter to Quinn if he had to wake up for a morning skate. He would take his fucking time. He was already so fucking confident that his team would win. They always seemed to win whenever he touched you during your sleep. Now that he was fucking you, maybe it could be an easy victory. Fuck, he hoped it would be. Even if they lose, there was no way he wouldn't do this again.

Languidly, he rolled his hips as his hands gripped your hips wider, opening you up.

Then he started to get rougher. His hips bucking into you to claim you brutally. He wanted you to be so confused about why you're so sore in the morning, wanted you to feel so horrified about the new kiss marks he was leaving all over your chest, your collarbone, your neck. He wanted to see you panic when you see the handprint bruises on your thighs.

Those images of you all rattled and horrified filled his mind. He couldn't stop smiling as he pressed down your lower abdomen, his thumb softly rubbing circles around your clit until you come so hard, your lips parting, yet you didn't wake up. He kept whispering praises into your ear, chuckling at the little sniffles coming out of you because he wouldn't stop his thrusts, wouldn't stop playing with your sensitive clit.

"Give me another one, my Love. Just one. Then we'll stop," he teased into your lips, kissing you without care even if you didn't kiss back. It was exactly how he wanted. Just you in the palm of his hands. Just you being fucked by him because he could. Just like his very own sex toy. "I promise."

He lied and lied and lied.

He wouldn't stop.

Why would he?

He could only grip your skin, short nails digging into your tender flesh. When you came again, he did too, spurting deep into your pussy, kissing and licking your neck, praising you over and over again. He took his time to recover. Then he would do it again and again. The same fucking lie would escape his lips.

His sweat would drip down your sweaty body. His cum would be pooling under your ass. Your pussy would be red and raw from overuse. Your skin would be marked by bruises already darkening, reddening. He would be so greedy at the sight of you not waking up. Totally under his mercy. The night wouldn't be over, yet he was already planning the next time to do this.

He tried to stop at least. He was getting too exhausted after a couple of hours of partaking you. Hell, he almost fainted after he came so hard, but he couldn't. He needed more and more. He could only turn you both sideways, lazily fucking into you. His cum would already become too watery, too diluted, too spent.

He would only stop when he could no longer give you anything. Still, he couldn't be satiated. He would crawl down your body to start cleaning you with his tongue. Tasting the mix of your cum and his. Smelling what he has done. It was all so divine.

He did his best with the clean-up. He replaced your nightgown and panties, wiped away the sweat. Even managed to change the fucking sheets with his shaky legs.

After tucking you in with his arms around you, he passed out. Only to wake up the next fucking hour. It was time to fucking work.

Work he did, grinning and laughing to himself when you called midday, sobbing because your body fucking ached.

Sorry. This is nothing but a figment of your imagination, i fear. I didn't write this. The parasites in my head did. They were having a protest because I was reading an extremely wholesome romance fantasy book. They needed something dark so they took over my keyboard. 🤧😔

-> more thoughts? List.

[sirfrogsworth]

So Elon has decided to skip the imminent disaster of global climate change and just move on to a calamity 5 billion years in the future.

If you ever need to understand Elon's motivations, it's all this.

Okay and a little bit the woke mind virus.

But mostly this.

He wants to get to Mars more than anything. It's why the only thing he can speak intelligently about is his rockets. He has put in the time and effort to learn about them because this is his singular passion.

A lovely Youtube physicist did a video about SpaceX and she said half of the rockets blow up and Elon just wants more money. And it was disappointing to hear her say that because she is a scientist and both things are inaccurate.

SpaceX would be an amazing company without Elon. His leadership is the only thing really holding it back. They have put lots of cool shit into space. Their Falcon program is the most productive and cheapest rocket program in history. They put more stuff into space than everyone else combined.

They had to blow up part of the graph just so you could see the competition. Half of the SpaceX rockets are *not* blowing up.

Starship is a specific prototype. It has nothing to do with their main rocket business. Starship is Elon wanting to go to Mars. It is basically him trying to send a 3 story building into space. And he keeps blowing it up because that is the fastest way to develop a rocket. He's wasting a lot of money by trying to speedrun a trip to Mars in his lifetime. And these tests are bit more like crash test data than expecting the rocket and Starship to actually function properly. It's a process and they have goals for each launch, and for the most part, they reach those goals. Any success after those goals is gravy to them. But they are pretty certain it is going to end in fireworks at this stage of development.

I don't know if they will get it to work. It would be nice because a functional spaceship that size could do a lot of cool science. But Elon's goals and NASA's goals are going to conflict in a major way at some point in the future. And I'm worried that may damage space exploration.

Starship is very different than their Falcon program. It's a science experiment. Falcons rarely blow up. They get shit to space like the James Webb telescope.

And as far as Elon just wanting more money... sort of.

His personal wealth has not been a huge concern of his for a while. Otherwise he wouldn't have let Tesla fall apart like it has. The wealth he is actually concerned about is not his own. Going to Mars is a trillion-dollar-plus endeavor. Even the richest man in the world cannot raise that much money.

Only a government could fund that.

Elon knows this. He figured it out a while ago. And when he saw an opportunity to get his hands on the government purse strings, he jumped at the chance.

He jumped in the shape of an X like a giant loser.

I'm *positive* Elon thought, "If I could save the government a trillion dollars, they'll give it to me so I can go to Mars."

But it is probably breaking his brain right now after learning he isn't this super genius who can figure out government bureaucracy in a weekend with a bunch of coding dorks.

He got depressed and realized his cool plan to get to Mars was falling apart.

Whoops.

Elon will say anything to get to Mars. He will lie about anything to get to Mars. He will consort with anyone to get to Mars. If you are ever unsure why Elon is doing something, it's to get to Mars. His moral calculus is based on this. In his delusional mind, everything is justifiable to save the human race.

He does have side quests. He wants to repopulate the Earth with his seed. And he uses IVF because you can drastically increase the odds of getting a boy if you pay extra. And he is angry at his trans daughter because he wants boys to continue his mission to spread Musk seed. He spends $50,000 extra to make sure he gets boys and she is messing with the plan.

Oh, and he really really wants people to think he is good at video games. And he wants people to like him. And he wants to kill the woke mind virus because he didn't get the boy he paid for.

But Mars is *almost* all he cares about.

Elon thinks Earth is doomed and he wants immortality from being the man who saved human civilization. He truly believes our existence is dependent on being "multiplanetary." It might be the only thing he believes.

Saving the human race is supposed to be his legacy.

And it is killing us.

[moonstruckme]

I’m asking nicely and cutely for a request for how poly!marauders x reader would handle a house full of norovirus or food poisoning in their small apartment. Everyone just sick as hell but also trying to take care of each other at the same time. Cute but chaos, as they already are 24/7 but like worse 😭

Thank you for requesting (so nicely and cutely!) angel <3

cw: vomit

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 640 words

Remus returns home from the corner store like a hero from war. 

“Thank you,” you say, reaching upward from your curled-up position on the couch for a vitamin water. You wince when the slight movement upsets your stomach. 

“No problem,” Remus replies. His hand trembles slightly as he passes it to you. He passes another one to James, who stops him when he starts away from the couch. 

“Sit down,” James coaxes. “You’re meant to be resting.” 

Remus looks inclined to protest, but one kind tug from James is enough for him to relent. He sits down next to you, toeing off his shoes. “Where’s Sirius?” he asks. 

“Hogging the toilet.” James fishes in the paper grocery bag for another vitamin water. 

Remus makes a soft, concerned noise. “Still?” 

“Still,” you confirm through a sigh. You nudge your bucket a few inches to the left so Remus doesn’t accidentally knock it with his foot. 

“He just doesn’t want to give up his prime real estate.” James kisses Remus’ hair, standing with the vitamin water in hand. “I’ll bring this to him. You lie down.” 

Remus, not usually one to be told what to do, eases himself sideways without complaint. He ends up half on top of you, his body between your legs and his head on your chest. 

“This okay?” he mumbles. 

“Mhm.” You sound just as exhausted as he does, and you didn’t even make the excursion to the grocery. “You’re really warm.” 

“Yeah, so are you.” 

You lay a clammy hand atop Remus’ limp hair. It’s the best you can do for affection right now: wordless commiseration. Your stomach has been twisting in knots and turning itself inside out since the early hours of the morning, and after spending hours taking turns with your boyfriends being sick in the toilet or a bucket or the kitchen sink, you seem all finally, thoroughly worn out. 

Remus falls asleep quicker than you’ve ever known him to. His slow, even breaths fan hot over your chest, lips smushed in a sleepy pout like he’s laying a kiss over your heart. The cruel lines slicing across his face stand out against his flushed skin. 

James comes back a few minutes later with Sirius in tow and Sirius’ laptop tucked under his arm. They make nearly identical pitying faces when they see Remus conked out on your chest. 

“Did he get any food?” Sirius asks, peering into the grocery bag. Where Remus is flushed with the fever from your shared illness, Sirius has paled, his complexion gone wan and greyish behind his curtain of dark hair. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble. “What’s with the laptop?” 

“He was leaving a review of the restaurant from yesterday,” James explains, setting the laptop down on the coffee table before collapsing back onto the couch with a sigh. 

“They bloody deserve it.” Sirius tears open a packet of crackers. He sets a few in James’ hand with a look that promises vengeance if he doesn’t eat them, then does the same to you. “Our story needs to be told.” 

“I didn’t say it didn’t.” James piles on top of you and Remus, practically contorting himself to rest his head on Remus’ thigh. It doesn’t look particularly comfortable. 

You eye Sirius where he’s curling up in the armchair. “Drink your vitamin water,” you remind him. 

“Eat your crackers,” he counters. “And sweetheart, I love you, but if you don’t move that bucket away from me I’m going to be sick all over the three of you.” 

Remus makes a drowsy whining sound, like he’s protesting this even in sleep. 

“I cleaned it out,” you say, defensive. 

Sirius’ nose wrinkles. “I can smell the remnants of vomit past.”

James reaches over, sliding your bucket across the floor. 

Sirius collapses back onto the throw pillow with a sigh. “Thank you.”

[ivyues]

Fashion Betrayal: Stray Kids' reactions to finding out their S/O asked their gay BFF for spicy fashion advice

request: [...] I just wanted a reaction of stray kids finding out you ask for your gay bestie advice in sexy clothes (hope it's ok :3)

Bang Chan

Chris paused mid-sip of his water, staring at you like he misheard. “…Your friend?” His brows lifted. “For fashion advice?”

There was a beat of silence. Then a soft chuckle escaped him – half disbelief, half amused. He leaned back, eyes narrowing just a little as he gives you a look.

“Wait, so let me get this straight – you dressed like that, and went to him?” He pointed vaguely at you.

Before you could explain, he launched into a ramble, hands waving. “Not that I have anything against it or—like I’m not saying you can’t or shouldn’t—like I’m not forbidding you or anything—I can do fashion advice too! I’ve styled—I know what looks good on you, I–”

You cut him off with a kiss – quick and deliberate.

He blinked. Mouth finally shut. Slightly flustered.

Then his voice lowered, and he smirked. “…So. You really wanted a second opinion, huh?”

Lee Know

He blinked at you, completely expressionless. “So… you asked someone else what I’d find sexy.”

You shrugged. “Asking another person was the point. I didn’t just want to throw on something that makes my butt look good and call it a day. I wanted more than that. I wanted a full outfit.”

He scoffed, a small smirk tugging at his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His gaze slid over the outfit again, slower this time, but his expression stayed carefully neutral. “…It looks fine. I guess.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?”

“Yeah. It's okay. Whatever,” he said, shrugging with a little too much casualness. “I’m not gonna be thinking about it when you’re not wearing it later anyway.”

Changbin

He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned against the doorway. “So you put that on… looked in the mirror… and said, ‘You know who needs to see this? My male friend.’”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to smile. “He's my best friend. And he's gay.”

Changbin ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not jealous, okay? I’m not that guy.” He stepped closer, eyes scanning you from head to toe. “I’m not gonna lie, though – you look really good. Like, too good.”

He stopped right in front of you, tilted his head, and dropped his voice a bit more. “But just so you know... the sexiest thing you could wear?” He leaned in. “Is my hoodie... or nothing at all.”

Hyunjin

Hyunjin gasped. “Hold up…You went to him for fashion advice? In that outfit? Do you know who I am?”

He stepped closer, eyes trailing over you with exaggerated offense. “I’m literally a global fashion icon. And you’re out here cheating on me with your gay best friend for styling tips?”

You giggled, trying to speak, but he cut you off with mock betrayal.

“I feel… betrayed. Stabbed. And you wore that dangerously divine outfit before I got to see it? In public? Oh, the betrayal. Wow.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

He placed a hand over his heart, then grinned. “You owe me, babe. A private fashion show. Just for me. Front row. No best friend allowed.”

Han

“Wait, wait, wait—you went to him... in that outfit... for advice?!” Han's eyes widen so far back you half-expect them to roll right out of his skull.

You blink, slowly, already bracing yourself. “…Yeah? He’s literally gay, babe.”

“Ohhh, so now we’re just out here serving LOOKS to our gay besties like we’re auditioning for a Victoria’s Secret runway—okay cool cool cool.”

You nearly choked on your drink, laughing. “Hannie, it’s not that deep—”

“Not that deep?! If I walked into my gay best friend’s apartment shirtless, asking which gray sweatpants make my butt look best, you’d be SCREAMING.”

Your jaw drops open, more offended by the mental image than the accusation. “...Wait, do you even have a gay best friend?”

He waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna find one and ask him exactly what kind of pants make my butt look snack-level good. See how you like it!”

Felix

“So... just to clarify, you picked the thirstiest outfit you own and went to someone other than your boyfriend for validation?”

You nodded, half-laughing but suddenly aware of how it might’ve looked.

Felix hummed, his tone playful but with a tiny pout forming. “Babe, I trust you, I do. It's just—Was he helpful at least?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like that. You know that,” you say a bit more softly.

He tilted his head, still smiling, but his voice lowered into a teasing murmur. “Alright, alright. But now I’m curious… think he’s got any advice for me?” he winked. “Maybe I could use some expert insight—”

“NONONONO,” you cut in quickly, hands flying up. You knew exactly how pretty your boyfriend was and how easily people fell for him.

Felix bursted out laughing, clearly delighted by your reaction. “Aww, someone’s jealous~”

You crossed your arms. “You're already too pretty. No help needed.”

Seungmin

Seungmin looked up from his phone with a flat expression. “Ah… So that’s why you didn’t look like a potato sack today.”

You gaped. “Wow. Rude.”

He crossed his arms, lips tugging into a teasing smirk. “You went to your best friend for advice, didn’t you?”

You hesitate, then nod slowly. “Okay, yeah… I wanted a second opinion.”

Seungmin let out a dramatic sigh, flopping onto the couch. “I knew it. The moment I saw you, I thought: ‘She doesn’t look like she got dressed with her eyes closed for once.’”

“Hey!” You threw a pillow at him. “Are you seriously jealous right now?”

Seungmin catched the pillow with one hand, grinning. “No. I’m just offended. I exist. I have eyes. And taste.”

I.N

Jeongin stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “Wait. You asked him for advice. In that outfit?”

You raised a brow. “He’s my friend. I wanted feedback.”

He squinted. “Right, right. So you put that on, looked in the mirror, and thought, ‘Hmm, I could ask my boyfriend… but nah, let me show this look to someone else first.’”

You snorted. “I did ask you. You said you were busy!”

His mouth opened like he was going to argue, then paused. “…Too busy to look at you like that? You seriously think I wouldn’t drop everything if I saw that?”

You stepped closer, hands on his chest. “Jeonginnie~ don’t pout.”

“I’m not pouting,” he muttered, clearly pouting. “I just… missed my chance.”

You gave him a teasing smile, tilting your head. “Well, maybe next time you’ll check your messages a little faster, Mr. I’m busy.”

masterlist

[ruusawa]

✶⋆.˚ ᴿᵒᵇⁱⁿ ᴰⁱᶜᵏ ᴳʳᵃʸˢᵒⁿ ˣ ᶠᵉᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

✶⋆.˚ ᵖᵘʳᵉ ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ, ʳᵒᵇⁱⁿ ᵈⁱᶜᵏ, ᵗⁱᵗᵃⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ, ᵒᵍ ᵗᵉᵉⁿ ᵗⁱᵗᵃⁿˢ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ, ᶜᵘᵈᵈˡⁱⁿᵍ, ᵈⁱᶜᵏ ⁱˢ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖʸ, ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵈⁱᶜᵏ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵃᵈᵐⁱᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ˡᵒᵘᵈ,ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉᵗᵃ ʳᵉᵃᵈ

✶⋆.˚ ⁵¹⁰ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Movie nights at Titan’s Tower were a compulsory event. You could be halfway dead and still find Wally picking you up, arms under your knees, running you from wherever you are and into the common room where everyone else was setting up. Not that you’d miss this for the world anyway. Over the past year, this team has become your home, not that you’d ever admit it. Despite the arguments, especially over cleaning (you’ve learnt teenage boys are gross), these were your people.

You’re squished between Donna and Dick on the couch, Mean Girls playing on the TV (because according to Wally, Garth needs to become cultured). You’re stealing popcorn out of the bowl in Donna’s lap, a soft weight settled against your shoulder. You glanced down to find Dick’s tousled head nestled against you, his warm, unruly hair brushing gently against your cheek. You freeze, staring down at Dick with wide eyes. He looks so pretty like this, so peaceful. You don’t realise your own eyes getting heavy, your head leaning on top of Dick’s as the sound of the movie lulls you to sleep.

When Dick wakes up, he’s laid tangled on the couch, body bent in an awkward position that’ll definitely cause him backache later. But the most surprising thing is the soft weight burrowed into his side. He reaches up to rub at his eyes and, oh, it’s you. Your body is wrapped around his carefully, moulding to his shape so he doesn’t fall off the couch. It’s dark and empty in the common room. The rest of the Titans must have gone to bed, leaving the two of you curled up on the couch. Dick doesn’t even remember falling asleep, let alone cuddling you. He should move. Go to bed. He should- you make a soft noise, pressing your face into Dick’s neck. And now Dick can’t move.

He doesn’t want to move. He wants to stay here forever. Holding you close. And oh, that’s messy. That’s so messy. Because you’re his teammate. And isn’t that like, not okay? But also, he wants it to be okay. And he’s still tired. And you’re cuddling him so…

Dick closes his eyes, arms coming around you more securely. He has tonight, if this is all he’s going to get, he’ll take it. If Dick could stay here forever… he would.

(“Shh, you’re going to wake them!” Donna hisses, shoving at Wally’s head.

Wally cackles, Donna holds her phone up again to capture the two of you cuddled on the couch.

Garth watches amused as Roy shakes his head at Donna, walking out to the kitchen with an empty snack bowl.

“Dick is so gonna kill you if he finds these photos,” Wally says from the floor.

“I’ll blame you, it’s fine,” Donna retorts, causing Wally to squawk. Roy returns to hit him around the back of the head. “Do you think he’ll ask her out?”

“Ten bucks says he’s chicken!” Wally jumps up.

“Ten on Dick asking,” Garth chimes in.

“Ten on them asking him,” Roy adds.)

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

this is based on my oc titans fic, purely self indulgent fluff

i will be writing a sequel with a confession, probably (we do gotta see who wins the bet (i don't know and i'm the author))

also thank you to @robinvomit for this prompt ❤︎₊ ⊹

[morganaawriterr]

Desperate; Lee Heeseung

SYNOPSIS ➺ Heeseung is a vampire who fell for the cute, hybrid bunny girl, you. Though his family doesn't approve, you stay together no matter what. After a fight with his parents, Heeseung runs to his safe place, you.

REQUEST ➺ For this cutie @heesbbygurl! Her bundle was: Moonstone (Heeseung). The empress (Forbidden love) Moon water + clove (Vampire) Suggestive. 11,“if I get a taste… I won’t stop.” 6. If I could have one ask is that the reader is a pretty cutesy type girl (channeling a bit of myself here).

WARNINGS ➺ Suggestive (sexual themes) Biting; mentions of blood and blood drinking; reader is a bunny hybrid for the plot; Hee is a cutie pie; Very intimate and cute; He almost cries;

Check out "Enchanted Corner" to see the original post with the rules to make a request yourself!

Heeseung’s parents' cruel voices and comments keep surfacing in his head, but they seem to get quieter the closer he gets to your small dorm room. It's past midnight, and you're probably asleep, but he can't help it.

He needs you.

His parents have planted poisonous seeds in his mind, and he needs to confirm your feelings for him before he goes insane.

The vampire knocks on your door softly, twice, his signature knock. To his surprise, you open the door before he can knock again. As soon as your pretty face peeks from behind the door, all his worries fade away.

“Baby?” you ask, confused. “Aren’t you supposed to be spending the weekend at your parents’ house?”

“I was…” Heeseung replies, eyes avoiding yours, feeling humiliated.

You find the behavior strange, knowing your boyfriend well due to the years you've been together. He is usually bright and clingy, his voice sweet and confident, but now he stands in front of you as if he has a heavy weight on his shoulders.

“Come in, please,” you instruct, giving him space. Heeseung grins just a little and steps inside.

You and Heeseung met in the first year of college, the National University for Creatures, where everyone was treated the same. No discrimination, no danger. And though vampires don't usually hang out with Hybrids, you were the exception. You and your cute bunny ears that made Hee lose his mind.

He has only been in your dorm once, and it didn't end well. You were supposed to be studying with him, but ended up on his lap, making out while the math books were long forgotten on the table.

The memories fill Hee’s mind, and he feels his body relax, your presence calming his racing heart. He sits down on the bed, and you sit by his side. One of your hands settles on his knee, and the other brushes a red hair out of his gorgeous face.

“What’s wrong, Hee?” you insist, your voice overflowing with worry.

Heeseung finally makes eye contact and completely melts at the sight of your big, round eyes. They’re staring at him with such purity and love, and your long, fluffy ears are perched up, concern evident in your face.

“It’s just… my parents keep telling me to leave you,” he starts explaining quietly. “They say we can’t trust other ‘species,’ and especially hybrids. They say they’re known to be hypersexual, and that leads to them cheating and leaving their partners. And I know that isn’t true—you would never do that! But I get angry at them and I yell and then we fight, and it gets worse.”

You gaze into his eyes with tenderness, listening to his concerns and bonding with him silently. When he finishes speaking, you reach for his face and caress his cheek. Heeseung looks at you with wet eyes, tears threatening to fall.

“Aw, baby… I understand. And it’s okay. Your parents don’t have to approve of our relationship. My parents are here for us, no matter what. I am here for you, no matter what,” you assure him, showing him a big smile.

Your vampire boyfriend smiles back at you and nuzzles his face against your palm, loving how warm your hand feels on his skin.

“Come here…” he pleads, gently helping you move and settle on his lap.

Heeseung doesn’t say anything else. He just rests his head against your chest and closes his eyes, savoring your loving embrace. And you let him stay just like that. Your hands slowly move upward and gently massage his scalp, playing with his hair.

After a few seconds, Heeseung’s mind travels somewhere else. He notices that your chest feels soft, and he figures you’re not wearing a bra under your pink Hello Kitty pajamas. Then his hands drift to your waist, and he rests his freezing hands on the exposed skin, loving how your body shivers almost instantly.

Naughty hands can’t help but slide upwards under your shirt, and with no warning, his fingers find your sensitive nipples. Your hold on his hair tightens, and your breathing quickens, obviously distracted by his teasing touches.

“I want to taste you so bad…” Heeseung hums against your neck. “But if I get a taste… I won’t stop.”

He doesn’t sound cocky, he sounds like he’s desperately trying to hold himself back. You’re already feeling worked up; being a hybrid makes you very sensitive, especially around the person you love.

“Hee…” you call breathless, your hands holding his face and forcing him to look at you.

“Yes, Princess?” he teases, his hands cupping your breasts beneath your shirt.

“Kiss me, please,” you whine, eyes closed in frustration. Heeseung smiles and shifts you further up on his lap. Now, you sit directly on top of him.

“Anything you want, princess.”

Heeseung approaches you with a gentle, almost teasing lean, and his lips then come together in a long, unhurried kiss. Your lips move smoothly against each other, molding as if you were made for one another. Your body burns, lost in the pleasure of both his lips and his dirty hands as they continue to toy with your breasts.

“Heeseung…” you moan, pulling away from his bruising kiss to breathe.

“What is it that you want?” he remarks, his mouth now grazing the underside of your jaw and neck.

“You… please… touch me more.” Begging is embarrassing, but you’ve had enough of his teasing.

“You asked for it…” Heeseung says before sinking his fangs into your neck, earning a gasp from you.

While you’re lost in the sensation of him sucking your blood, you don’t notice his fingers sliding down your body. Another moan escapes your lips when you feel his teasing touch on your sex, slow and torturous over your shorts.

Your hands fly to his head, and your fingers dive into his red hair, losing complete control.

“Heeseung… we have to stop…” You whine. “I’m not normal… I need more… I can't—”

Heeseung pulls away from your neck with bloody lips and a smirk. “I know, baby. I’ll give it to you. Be patient.”

And just as he finishes speaking, he’s back on your neck—this time on the other side, closer to your shoulder. That’s when you knew… You were in for a long, loving night.

Author's Note: I'm exhausted and in pain (literally) but I managed to write and post this, so I hope you guys enjoy, especially you cutie that requested this! As always, thank you so much for all the love, reblogs are always appreciated! Masterlist

Taglist: @mrsjjongstby @kawaiichu32 @maewphoria @tunafishyfishylike @deluluscenarios @firstclassjaylee @rjssierjrie @reibelhearts @pshfan0812

If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

[lampridius]

HIII can I req anaxa + luocha with a reader who has dpd and needs constant reassurance n also needs their lover to take care of things for them n cant be left alone for long periods of time ＞＜ thanku in advance

𝙃𝙎𝙍 𝙈𝙀𝙉 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘿𝙀𝙋𝙀𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙔 𝘿𝙄𝙎𝙊𝙍𝘿𝙀𝙍 (𝘿𝙋𝘿) ᯓ★ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀: anaxa, luocha ᯓ★ rules | masterlist | 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 ᯓ★ 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ᯓ★ 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀:

#𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗫𝗔

he figures it out before you ever put it into words. it’s not the way you cling to his sleeve when he stands up to leave a room - it’s the silence that follows, heavy and still, like you've been left behind even when he’s just in the other room. it’s how you say “sorry” every time you ask him for help, like your needs are something to apologise for.

and he hates that.

so he does something about it - not with grand gestures, but structure. he makes lists you can follow, gives you choices instead of leaving you in limbo. he reminds you to eat, to breathe, to sleep - not like you’re a burden, but like he’s honoured to be the one you trust with your softness.

“i need you,” you whisper once, chest tight with panic as he reaches for his coat.

he doesn’t sigh. doesn’t hesitate. he puts the coat down.

“then i’ll stay.”

and he does. always. if he has to leave, he leaves notes behind - pages of them. “i’ll be gone for two hours for a lecture at the grove. you’ll be okay. i believe in you.” you find yourself reading them over and over until he’s back.

he never sees your dependence as weakness. he sees it as a language. and he learns to speak it fluently.

#𝗟𝗨𝗢𝗖𝗛𝗔

he never flinches when you say you can’t do something on your own. he just smiles that soft, tired smile and says, “then we’ll do it together.”

you’re scared, sometimes, of being too much. too needy. too unsure. you don’t know how to make decisions without asking three times if he agrees. and god, you hate being left alone. when he leaves, it feels like the room caves in on itself.

so he doesn’t leave. or, if he must, he makes sure there’s something of him left behind. a voicemail. a timer with his voice reminding you to eat. sometimes, a fresh cup of tea with a note that says: “i’ll be back before it gets cold.”

when you break down - frantic, trembling, sure he’s going to get tired of you - he holds your face gently between his hands and says, “i’m not going anywhere.” over and over. like a vow.

he takes care of the things you can’t face. the appointments. the errands. the little tasks that feel like mountains. and when you cry about being a burden, he just kisses your forehead.

“you take care of me too,” he whispers. “you remind me why i choose softness, every day.”

he never makes you feel small for needing more.

in fact, he makes it feel like needing is something holy.

©𝗖𝗢𝗣𝗬𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 ● @lampridius 2025

[biggianteggplant]

OKI SO CAN I REQUEST LIKE A ONESHOT😱🥺 WHERE THEY FIND OUT READER USED TO HAVE A GF...👉👈😓😋🥰🚨🤗🦅🦅🦅🦅❄🤡🤡 THE GAY DOG IN ME IS HOWLING.

HAIKYUU MEN FINDING OUT YOU HAD AN EX- GIRLFRIEND

KYOTANI KENTARO

You were scrolling through your old photos, chuckling softly as you sat beside Kyotani on the couch. He was half-watching a volleyball match, half-glancing at you every time you laughed.

“God, I forgot about this,” you said, holding your phone up. “My ex dragged me to a baking class. She always wanted me to try baking, It was a disaster, but kind of fun.”

Kyotani gave you a side-eye, catching a glimpse of the photo. A cute girl stood next to you, flour on both your faces, your arms around each other.

He blinked. Pause. “…Wait. She?”

You looked at him, confused for a second before it clicked. “Yeah? My ex-girlfriend.”

“…You had a girlfriend?” he asked, voice tight, eyebrows furrowed in that Kyotani way™ that meant he was not handling this neutrally.

“Yeah. Back in high school,” you said casually, scrolling to the next photo. “Did I not tell you that?”

Kyotani sat up straighter, now fully paying attention, scowl deepening. “No.”

A long beat passed. You turned your phone off and gave him a look. “Why do you look like you’re about to fight someone?”

“I’m not,” he muttered. “Just didn’t know I had competition from both sides.”

You burst out laughing. “Kentaro. Babe. You’re literally growling.”

He crossed his arms, face turning aggressively red. “I’m not.”

“You so are,” you teased, leaning into him, poking his cheek. “You jealous?”

“…No.”

You raised an eyebrow. He muttered again, quieter this time. “Maybe. A little.”

You softened, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re so dumb.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, like, you don’t need to be jealous. She was nice, but she wasn’t you.”

He stayed silent, ears still red. Then, under his breath: “…Tch. Still gonna beat her in baking just in case.”

You snorted. “You don’t even bake.”

“I will now.”

You kissed his cheek. “Then let’s go. Next weekend. You, me, flour war 2.0.”

“…Fine. I’m winning though.”

(He didn't. But he did sulk adorably the entire time and made you promise to kiss him for every burnt cookie.)

KUROO TETSURO

You were sitting cross-legged on Kuroo’s bed, flipping through your old sketchbook while he lounged beside you, head propped up on his hand, pretending not to be invested.

“What’s that?” he asked, already scooting closer.

“My old sketchbook,” you replied. “From senior high.”

He leaned in. “Let me see.”

You let him, watching as he smirked at your younger self’s doodles.

“This cat looks like it’s seen things,” he said, pointing.

You laughed. “My ex drew that one, actually. We used to pass this sketchbook back and forth.”

“Your ex?” he repeated. “Talented. He or she?”

“She.”

Kuroo blinked. His entire vibe shifted subtly — nothing too obvious. Just a tiny pause, a flicker behind his eyes. “Oh… she?”

You nodded casually. “Yeah. We dated for like a year. She was the one who got me into drawing, actually.”

Kuroo went quiet. Then:

“Interesting,” he said coolly. “Plot twist, babe.”

You tilted your head at him. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” he said with that trademark smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just mentally reorganizing the 'threats to my relationship' list. Didn’t know I had to start watching out for hot art girls too.”

You chuckled. “Please. She’s ancient history.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got taste,” he muttered. “Which clearly includes me and mysterious women with sketchbooks. That’s range.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Tetsurō, are you seriously jealous right now?”

“Pfft. What? No.” Beat. “...Okay maybe.”

You grinned and crawled into his lap, booping his nose. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I am not.”

“You are. But you’re cute when you sulk.”

He groaned, burying his face into your neck. “This is illegal. I am a strong, confident man. I don’t get flustered.”

“Sure,” you whispered. “Tell that to the guy who’s pouting because my ex-girlfriend drew a sad-looking cat.”

“…That cat was kinda better than mine.”

You snorted. “It’s okay, you’re still my favorite loser.”

He looked up at you with a cocky smirk and a blush on his cheeks. “Damn right. Just don’t go leaving me for some artsy girl with eyeliner and tragic poetry.”

You smirked. “Why would I? I’ve got you — eyeliner-less, full of tragic volleyball metaphors, and a thousand times hotter.”

He leaned in, voice low and smug again. “I knew you had taste.”

TSUKISHIMA KEI

It was a rainy afternoon, and you were curled up in Tsukishima’s room, flipping through an old photo album you brought over for some unknown reason. (Honestly, it was mostly to embarrass yourself and make him react. Mission: always bug Kei.)

You held up a photo and laughed. “God, I remember this. My girlfriend back then surprised me on my birthday with these funny Shrek cupcakes.”

Tsukishima, who was mid-sip of his soda, paused.

“…Girlfriend?”

You blinked, then nodded. “Yeah? Back in like… tenth grade. Why?”

He stared at you. Not in a rude way, but in that very specific Tsukishima-processing-emotions-like-a-glitchy-iPhone way.

“I didn’t know you dated girls,” he said, trying very hard to sound bored and unaffected. Spoiler: he failed.

You smirked. “I didn’t know it was relevant.”

“It’s not,” he said instantly, looking away.

Which meant it was so relevant.

You could practically see the gears turning behind his glasses. He pushed them up unnecessarily. “Was she… like, serious?”

You bit your lip. “Mmm… yeah, I guess. We were together for almost a year.”

Tsukishima nodded slowly. Too slowly. Like his brain just hit the emergency overthinking button. “…Cool.”

You waited.

“Kei,” you said, poking his knee. “Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Why would I be jealous of someone who baked you ugly cupcakes?”

“Because she got to be my first girlfriend?” you teased.

“…Shut up.”

You grinned and leaned toward him. “Admit it. You’re imagining me with her right now, aren’t you?”

“I’m imagining tripping her with my long legs,” he deadpanned.

You laughed so hard you almost dropped the photo album.

He huffed. “It’s not like I care. Your past is your past.”

“Mmhm.”

“I’m just… surprised.”

“By what?”

He looked at you then, golden eyes honest for a second. “That you didn’t tell me sooner. I thought we told each other everything.”

Your teasing smile softened. “Hey. I didn’t hide it. I just didn’t think it mattered.”

“…It kind of does,” he mumbled.

You crawled closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “Well, now you know. And in case your brain’s still spinning: I’m here. With you. Not her.”

He went quiet.

Then, the tiniest smirk. “Good. Because my cupcakes would’ve looked way less ugly.”

You snorted. “Liar. You’d just buy me Pocky and call it a day.”

“…And you’d love it.”

(You would.)

SUNA RINTARO

You were lying on your stomach on Suna’s bed, scrolling through your camera roll while he rested next to you, phone in one hand, lazily watching you out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “This pic is from when my ex and I tried to dye our hair the same color. We ended up looking like radioactive lemons.”

Suna raised an eyebrow, glancing over. “Ex?”

“Mhm. My ex-girlfriend,” you said casually, showing him the cursed yellow-haired selfie.

He blinked slowly. “...You had a girlfriend?”

“Yeah? Why do people always act surprised when I say that?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Just thought you were too cool to date someone that made you look like a lemon.”

You snorted. “Wow, thanks.”

He looked away, eyes flicking back to his screen — but you noticed he was no longer scrolling.

Then: “So… how serious was it?”

You raised a brow. “Are you actually asking?”

“I’m just wondering if I should be worried about a girl showing up with matching hair dye and feelings.”

You laughed. “No worries. She lives in Canada now or something. Super over it.”

“Mm.”

There was a pause.

Then he muttered, “Still kind of annoying though.”

You turned your head. “Are you jealous?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he rolled over and flopped on top of you like a lazy blanket. Face in your back. Warm and heavy and sulky.

“Suna— you’re crushing me—”

“Mmm. Good. No one else gets to lie on you like this,” he mumbled.

You grinned, cheeks heating up. “You’re such a brat.”

He nuzzled into your shoulder, still not lifting his head. “If she messages you again, I’m replying with a ‘who dis’.”

“She won’t. But okay, guard dog.”

He sighed dramatically. “Gotta protect what’s mine, right?”

And despite his usual deadpan vibe… You could feel the smile in his voice.

MIYA ATSUMU

It started with a dumb TikTok you two were watching together, where the trend was “Things my ex taught me.”

You snorted, “My ex taught me that girls are really good at stealing your hoodies and never giving them back.”

Atsumu’s head snapped toward you like you just confessed to a crime.

“…Girls?”

You blinked. “Yeah?”

“Wait wait wait—hold up. You dated a girl??”

You laughed. “Yes, ‘Tsumu. I’ve dated a girl. Why are you acting like I told you I was a secret wizard?”

He pointed a dramatic finger at you. “’Cause ya never told me! That’s, like—relevant information!! That’s world-shaking stuff!”

You rolled your eyes. “Relax. It was in high school. We dated for almost a year, then broke up on decent terms. Nothing wild.”

He folded his arms, lips pursed. “Ya still talk to her?”

“No?”

“…She prettier than me?”

You burst out laughing. “Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about?”

Atsumu flopped backward onto the bed like a defeated anime protagonist. “What if she shows up one day like ‘I still love ya,’ and then suddenly I’m the side character in my own relationship?!”

“Oh my god—”

“She probably has eyeliner and reads poetry and smells like vanilla or somethin’—how am I supposed to compete with that?!”

You climbed on top of him, holding his dramatic little face. “Atsumu. I’m with you. Not her. You don’t need eyeliner. You smell like soap and ego.”

He gave you a wounded look. “So you admit she had eyeliner.”

“I’m gonna throw a pillow at your face.”

He grinned, all bright and smug again. “There’s my firecracker.”

Then he pulled you down into a tight hug, voice softer now, low against your ear.

“…’M not actually mad, ya know. Just didn’t like thinkin’ someone else made you happy before I did.”

You sighed, melting into him. “It’s okay. You’re doing a great job now.”

You felt his smile widen. “Damn right I am.”

AKAASHI KEIJI

The quiet hum of jazz music and the smell of freshly ground coffee filled the small bookstore café as you and Akaashi strolled through the aisles hand in hand. Sunday afternoons were his favorite with you—slow, soft, and undisturbed. He liked watching how your eyes lit up when you skimmed the titles of poetry books. He liked that you always stopped by the quote-of-the-day board near the entrance. He liked the way your hand fit perfectly in his without needing to think about it.

Today was no different. Peaceful. Familiar.

Until—

“Y/N?”

You turned at the sound, already blinking in confusion— And there she was. Your ex-girlfriend.

“Oh—hey,” you said, with a polite, startled smile.

She stood maybe two feet away. A beige turtleneck, black jeans, a leather sling bag, and a slight awkwardness in her stance. You hadn’t seen her in years—not since things ended quietly but distantly. Not on bad terms, not exactly close ones either.

You could feel Akaashi shift slightly beside you, the way he always did when something disrupted his mental order.

The girl glanced at him briefly, then back to you. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, me neither,” you replied. “It’s been… a while.”

There was a pause that stretched half a second too long.

Akaashi, ever the gentleman, gave her a nod. “Good afternoon.”

She nodded back. “You too. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your date. Nice seeing you.”

“You too,” you replied softly, giving her a small wave as she walked away and disappeared into another aisle.

You turned back to Akaashi, ready to laugh it off— Only to find him already watching you, brows gently furrowed.

“…Who was that?” he asked, voice as calm as ever. “An old friend of yours?”

You paused for a beat, trying to decide how to phrase it.

“My ex,” you said honestly. “From high school.”

His lips parted just slightly, a flicker of surprise flashing behind his glasses. “She’s your ex?”

“Mhm.”

Another pause.

He looked away briefly, processing. His fingers fidgeted with the corner of a book he wasn’t actually interested in. You watched him—how even in his quiet, reserved way, he still felt things deeply. Thoughtfully.

“You seem surprised,” you said gently.

“I am,” he admitted. “You never mentioned… that you dated a girl before.”

You chuckled softly. “Most people are surprised. I just never brought it up because… well, I didn’t think it mattered.”

He nodded slowly, trying to shake the sudden noise in his head.

“I guess I didn’t expect to suddenly meet someone who used to… hold your heart.”

Your eyes softened. “Keiji…”

He looked at you now—really looked. There wasn’t anger in his gaze. No harshness. Just something quietly wounded and unsure, like a poet stumbling on a sentence they didn’t expect to read.

“I’m not upset,” he added quickly. “You’re with me now. That’s what matters.”

You stepped closer, slipping your hand back into his. “Exactly. I love you. That part’s not complicated.”

He nodded again but still seemed a touch off.

So you teased, gently nudging his side: “Unless you’re jealous.”

His lips twitched upward. “I wouldn’t say jealous.”

“No?”

“…Maybe just... aware. Of the people who came before me.”

You leaned up, resting your chin on his shoulder with a smile. “She didn’t hold my heart the way you do now, Keiji.”

Akaashi finally smiled—small, quiet, but undeniably warm. He let out a breath and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I plan on holding it carefully. For as long as you’ll let me.”

And just like that, the awkwardness melted away.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

You were sitting side-by-side at a quiet park bench after a light jog—well, he jogged, and you half-jogged half-wheezed next to him with dramatic flair, earning a couple of head shakes and a fond look or two.

The air was crisp, golden hour approaching. Ushijima handed you your water bottle as he stared off at the lake, towel draped around his neck.

You’d been talking about high school stories, giggling about club activities and awkward fashion choices.

Then, out of nowhere, you went: “Oh—and then there was my ex-girlfriend who cried over the school’s vending machine.”

Silence.

You didn’t even notice at first. You kept laughing. “She swore the machine hated her because it ate her coins every time she wanted milk tea. We even tried writing a formal complaint to the student council—”

“…Your ex-girlfriend?” Ushijima asked suddenly.

You blinked.

“…Yeah?”

He turned his head slowly to look at you. His expression wasn’t harsh, but it was unreadable—like his brain was filing away new information it didn’t quite know what to do with.

“I didn’t know you had… dated a girl.”

“I mean, I don’t bring it up often. It’s just part of the past.”

“Was she important to you?” he asked, voice firm, eyes still holding yours.

You paused, lips parting slightly at the seriousness of the question.

“She was… at the time,” you said softly. “But not like you are now. That was a different version of me.”

Ushijima nodded slowly.

But he was quiet again. Too quiet. You knew that look—it meant he was thinking too much and not saying a word.

You nudged him lightly with your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I am.”

“You sure?”

He hesitated.

“…I want to understand every part of your life. Even the parts I wasn’t there for,” he said plainly. “It feels important.”

You softened instantly. “You don’t have to worry, ‘Toshi.”

“I’m not worried,” he said, then added with complete sincerity, “But I want to be someone you can tell everything to. Even if it’s uncomfortable. Even if it surprises me.”

You blinked. “That was… really sweet, actually.”

He looked at you, still serious. “Is that the correct response?”

You laughed and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

After a moment, he wrapped his arm around you—gentle, protective, warm.

“…Do you still like milk tea?” he asked.

You giggled. “Only if you get it with me.”

And he did. That night. And every time after.

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

You and Kageyama were walking back from practice—his, not yours (you would’ve died in the first ten minutes)—and you were ranting about your high school days, as usual. He always listened. Even if he didn’t understand half of what you were saying, he liked hearing your voice. It was grounding.

You were mid-sip of your drink when you casually added, “Oh yeah, and my ex-girlfriend hated sports. It was a weird time.”

He physically stopped walking.

Like— Stopped.

You turned. “Uh… Tobio?”

“Your… ex… girlfriend?” he repeated like he just misheard the score in a national match.

You blinked. “Yeah?”

Pause.

Kageyama stared at you, trying to compute this new piece of lore like it was a hidden stat in a game.

“…You dated a girl?”

“Yeah, for a while. It was pretty normal. She wasn’t, like, evil or anything.”

He nodded very slowly. “Oh.”

You started walking again. He followed—but with that stiff, “my CPU is overheating” energy.

“Tobio.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re making the face you make when someone messes up a toss.”

“I’m fine.”

You turned, stepped in front of him, and looked up with a knowing grin. “You’re jealous.”

“I am not—!” He stopped. Looked down at you.

“…Am I allowed to be?”

That caught you off guard.

Your teasing grin softened. “Do you want to be?”

He looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know. It’s just… weird to imagine you being with someone else. Especially someone who isn’t… me.”

You laughed, stepping close to boop his nose. “You’re cute when you overthink.”

“I’m not—” He shut up immediately when you leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“You’re the one I want now. No one else. Not even vending machine-hating high school ex-girlfriends.”

Kageyama's ears turned so red you thought they might overheat.

“…Okay,” he muttered, but then gently grabbed your hand. “Okay.”

And he didn’t let go all the way home.

TANAKA RYUNOSUKE

It all started over fries. Because of course it did.

You and Tanaka were at your usual diner—your “treat yourself” date spot after he finished practice. He was halfway through talking about how he definitely could’ve landed that ridiculous back set when you casually went:

“Oh man, this reminds me of my ex-girlfriend. She used to drag me to diners like this too.”

Silence.

The fry he was holding… didn’t make it to his mouth.

He blinked at you.

“…Your ex… girlfriend??” His voice cracked.

You smirked, sipping your drink. “Yeah?”

He sat up straighter. “Like… like actual relationship girlfriend??”

“Yes, Tanaka. I’ve dated a girl. Before you.”

Tanaka.exe has stopped working.

“I—wait, WAIT. That’s kind of—hot?? No—wait, confusing?? Actually no—it’s—uh—WH-WHAT???”

You BURST out laughing. He was fully spiraling. “Why do you look like you saw a ghost?”

He ran a hand over his shaved head, eyes WIDE. “I dunno, I just—why didn’t you tell me?!”

You shrugged. “It never came up.”

“So she was like, your type?” he asked, voice dropping an octave—half curious, half insecure.

“She was, at the time,” you said honestly. “But I like you now. So clearly, my type got an upgrade.”

Tanaka flushed so hard it looked like he’d run a marathon. “OH—OKAY—ALRIGHT THEN—COOL COOL COOL—”

You reached across the table, grabbing his hand with a smirk. “You jealous, babe?”

He paused.

Then nodded way too fast.

“Yes. A little. Okay maybe a lot.”

You giggled. “Why? She’s not even in the picture anymore.”

He squeezed your hand like his life depended on it. “Because you're my girl now, and I just—y’know—I wanna be the only one who makes you smile like that.”

Your chest went soft. So did your face.

“Tanaka…”

“…Also, not gonna lie, kinda hot. Like. Wow. Power move. You’re powerful. I respect you.”

You burst out laughing again.

And he swore, in that moment, he would never let you go. Not to a guy. Not to a girl. Not to anyone.

OIKAWA TOORU

You were watching a romcom with Oikawa, curled up on his couch. He was narrating it the whole time, obviously.

“Oh my god, she’s totally cheating on him. Look at her eyes. Cheater eyes. I know them,” he declared.

You snorted. “You sound like my ex-girlfriend. She said that about every female character in every movie.”

He froze mid-popcorn bite. Slowly turned his head toward you. “…Ex. Girlfriend?”

You blinked. “Yeah?”

His voice suddenly became way too casual. “Huh. Interesting. I mean, not like it matters. Totally doesn’t matter. I’m fine.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tooru.”

He turned away dramatically, eyes still on the TV but his soul clearly somewhere else.

“So… how long did you two date?”

“A year-ish?”

He nodded slowly. “Long time. That’s a long time. Must’ve been serious.”

You tilted your head. “It was. But it ended, remember?”

He let out a weird little laugh. “Right. Ended. Of course. Totally irrelevant now. Just ancient gay history.”

You stared. “You good?”

“No,” he admitted immediately, turning toward you with puppy eyes. “You dated someone hot and mysterious and probably had, like, emotionally deep late-night talks and made Spotify playlists for each other. And I’m just... me.”

You laughed and grabbed his face, smooshing his cheeks. “Tooru. You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I?? Am I ridiculous or am I right??”

You kissed his nose. “She didn’t listen to me. She made me feel like I had to shrink myself to be with her.”

He blinked. “But… you’re you. That’s like, the best part.”

You smiled. “Exactly. And you always let me be loud and weird and me. So yeah, she was part of my past. But I don’t miss her.”

Oikawa melted a little. “You sure?”

You leaned closer. “You’re my now. And I’m pretty sure you’re my always.”

“…Even if I talk over every movie?”

“Even then.”

He exhaled dramatically and threw himself into your lap. “Fine. I accept your love. But just so you know—if she ever tries to text you again, I’m blocking her and reporting her Spotify.”

You laughed so hard you nearly choked on popcorn.

ASAHI AZUMANE

You were sitting on the floor of his bedroom, carefully brushing out Asahi’s hair while he read a book, head tilted slightly toward you in relaxed silence.

“You always smell so nice,” you murmured. “Reminds me of my ex’s shampoo, actually.”

His fingers paused on the page. “…Your ex…?”

“Yeah, my girlfriend in high school. She was obsessed with those floral scents.”

Silence. Like the air shifted.

You glanced up and saw Asahi blinking slowly, lips parted just a bit.

“You had a girlfriend?” he asked, soft and unsure. No judgment—just genuine surprise.

“Yeah,” you said easily, still brushing his hair. “She was sweet. Not the best communicator, but we cared about each other. It just didn’t work out.”

Asahi was quiet. Too quiet.

You paused. “What’s that look?”

He gave you a sheepish smile, his voice almost too gentle. “I guess I just… didn’t know. I always assumed your past relationships were with guys.”

You set the brush down and wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind.

“I’ve dated both. But I love you.”

He gave a small laugh under his breath. “I know, it’s not a big deal. I just… it makes me wonder what she was like. If she made you laugh like I do. If you ever brushed her hair like this.”

You leaned forward, lips brushing his cheek. “She didn’t like anyone touching her hair. She also didn’t make me feel this safe.”

Asahi looked down at his hands, a small smile blooming. “Safe…?”

You kissed the side of his neck. “With you, it’s like I can exhale. No pressure to perform or shrink. Just… be.”

His shoulders sagged with quiet relief. “I’m glad.”

You slid around to sit in front of him, cupping his face. “You’re allowed to feel weird about it. But know this: I never loved anyone the way I love you.”

He looked at you like you’d just handed him the moon.

“Okay,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “Thank you. For choosing me.”

You grinned. “Every day.”

YAKU MORISUKE

You were lounging on the couch, scrolling through old photos on your phone when you burst out laughing. “Oh my god… I forgot I still had this pic of my ex.”

Yaku glanced up from where he was sitting at the dining table, sipping tea.

“Ex?” he asked, casual but clearly intrigued.

“Yeah, my ex-girlfriend. This was back in senior high.” You turned your phone toward him briefly, showing a blurry but clearly affectionate photo of you and a girl with matching bracelets.

Yaku choked on his tea.

“—Wait. Girlfriend???”

You snorted. “Yeah. I dated girls before you, you know.”

He blinked. Blinked again.

Then with the most exaggerated sigh of the century: “OH GREAT. Now I have to fight both men and women for your attention.”

You grinned. “You jealous, Morisuke?”

He huffed, arms crossed. “No. Maybe. I mean—seriously?! You never told me you were out here breaking hearts on all levels. What am I supposed to do with that information???”

“Love me harder?” you teased.

He narrowed his eyes like he was about to file a complaint. “Let me guess… she also thought your eyes were pretty. Typical.”

“She said they reminded her of the ocean.”

“Oh, wow. A poet. How original.”

You walked over, leaned down, and kissed his cheek. “Are you really mad?”

“No,” he muttered. “Just reevaluating how much game my girlfriend has.”

You smirked. “Don’t worry. You win.”

He squinted up at you. “...Do I though? ‘Cause I just found out I’m dating the bisexual main character and now I’m kinda panicking.”

You sat in his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Relax. I’m retired. I only collect boyfriends now. Just one, actually.”

Yaku tried so hard not to smile, but the way his ears turned red gave him away. “Yeah well… just don’t forget I’m still willing to square up with anyone who flirts with you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Even Jessica from the art club?”

“She better be ready to catch these hands.”

TENDO SATORI

You were already having a long day. You hadn’t slept well, your group project was due, and to top it off, there was a new transfer student.

Your teacher clapped their hands, smiling. “Everyone, please welcome our new student—”

And your soul left your body.

She walked in. Her.

She gave a small wave, clearly awkward, and her eyes flicked toward you for half a second before darting away.

Tendou, sitting beside you as always, leaned in and whispered, “You know her?”

You gave a tiny, tiny nod.

His eyes widened. “Wait. WAIT. You don’t mean—?”

You didn’t answer.

She got assigned the seat right in front of you.

The class continued like normal. Sort of. You could feel the tension buzzing around your head like a mosquito you couldn’t slap. Your ex never turned around, but she fidgeted a lot. You sighed.

At lunch, Tendou dragged you to the rooftop like a detective solving a murder.

“Okay. Spill,” he said, dramatic as ever. “Was that… your ex?”

You rubbed your face. “Yes.”

“Your girlfriend ex?”

You groaned. “Yes, Satori.”

He dropped his bento dramatically. “WHAT. You dated her?! That’s like a plot twist in a shoujo anime. You two were giving secret pining vibes the entire class.”

“We didn’t end badly,” you muttered. “Just… different goals.”

He blinked. “That’s so grown-up. Ew.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because my lovely chaos monster of a classmate forgot to mention she’s been starring in her own LGBT coming-of-age drama without me.” He flicked your forehead. “I deserve to be part of this lore.”

You side-eyed him. “You’re not jealous?”

“Of her?” he scoffed. “No way. I mean, you upgraded to me. I’m the whole freakin’ main course.”

You grinned. “And very humble, too.”

He smirked. “Always. But just saying—if she tries to get back with you, I will start reciting love poems in the middle of class.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, I will. I’ll stand on a desk. I’ll go full Shakespeare. I’ll say, ‘Shall I compare thee to a volleyball match?’”

“TENDOU—”

He winked. “Just making sure you remember: I’m the plot twist now.”

MIYA OSAMU

You were sitting on the counter at Onigiri Miya, swinging your legs and chatting with Osamu as he prepped some new menu samples.

You mentioned it casually, not even thinking. “Yeah, my ex-girlfriend used to love tamagoyaki. I could never get it quite right, though.”

He paused.

You didn’t even notice at first—until you looked up and saw him just… staring.

“…You had a girlfriend?” he asked, voice calm but with one eyebrow suspiciously raised.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, chuckling nervously. “Senior year. It didn’t last long.”

Osamu blinked slowly. “Huh. Didn’t see that comin’.”

“…You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, suddenly very focused on slicing green onions. “Good taste tho.”

You watched him. “…You sure you’re not weirded out?”

He scoffed. “Nah. Just means I really do gotta step up my cookin’ game.”

You tilted your head. “Why?”

He side-eyed you. “Was she good in the kitchen?”

You blinked. “She… knew how to make pancakes.”

He made a noise like that personally offended him.

“Right,” he muttered, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll make somethin’ better.”

You blinked. “Samu—are you baking out of jealousy right now?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Cue him violently whisking batter. “This is just… menu research. Totally unrelated.”

An hour later, he slid over a perfect fluffy tamagoyaki on rice, garnished with seaweed hearts and your initials.

You took a bite and your eyes widened. “This is insane. What the hell, Osamu.”

He smirked. “Hope your ex sees this and cries.”

I LOVE GAYNESS. I LOVE GAY PEOPLE. ALSO BB DIDN'T SPECIFY WHAT FANDOM TO WRITE FOR...Sooooooo if y'all want to see other versions of this pls comment or just put it in the request box thingy love ya guys!

[otakudragones]

Kento Nanami

As a Boyfriend

• Nanami doesn’t fall in love easily, but once he does, he is serious, straightforward, and completely honest.

• His way of caring for you is practical: making sure you eat well, rest properly, and don’t overwork. Not because he’s boring, but because he knows what exhaustion feels like and he doesn’t want that for you.

• He prefers small, consistent gestures. A hot cup of coffee in the morning, a silent hand reaching for yours, a “Did you get home safe?” every night.

• He gets nervous with physical affection at first, but once he’s used to it, he becomes your anchor: long hugs, slow caresses, his head resting on your lap as he listens to you speak.

• He’s very observant. He notices when something’s bothering you, even if you don’t say it. And he stays with you until you’re okay, even if he doesn’t know exactly how to help.

Imagine:

You come home after a bad day. He doesn’t ask anything. He just takes off his tie, sits you on the couch, and puts a blanket over your shoulders. Then he sits beside you, saying nothing, and holds your hand. It’s all you need.

As a Husband

• He’s methodical, but affectionate. He has schedules, routines, and a very specific way of doing things… but he always makes space for you in all of it.

• He makes breakfast every morning. Not because he has to, but because he loves seeing you smile at the first bite.

• Fights are rare, because he prefers to talk things through calmly. Still, he never underestimates your feelings. He always listens.

• He calls you “my love” naturally. Sometimes it sounds so formal, so him, that it gives you butterflies like the very first time.

• He firmly believes in respect, commitment, and true companionship. He doesn’t want a perfect story—just a life with you.

Imagine:

You’re lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He walks in, lies down beside you, and asks, “Would you like to take a vacation?”

He doesn’t say it because he’s tired… he says it because he’s noticed you are. And he wants to gift you a break.

As a Father

• Nanami is the kind of dad who reads parenting articles and keeps a personal mini-library of illustrated books.

• He fears the world—not for himself, but for his child. That’s why he teaches them early that being strong isn’t the same as being cold.

• He loves reading bedtime stories, especially if he can do different voices (even if it’s hard for him).

• He has a photo album organized by months. He also keeps every drawing, letter, and memory.

• If his child stumbles or falls, he doesn’t rush to pick them up… but he does kneel beside them, asks if they’re okay, and says, “I’m here. Try again.”

In general, a relationship with Nanami is...

• Like a warm cup of tea on a cloudy day. Calm, safe, sincere.

• He looks at you as if you’re the most precious thing in his life. Not as an unreachable ideal, but as someone real, human, whom he loves even on their hardest days.

• With him, you learn that love doesn’t have to be a storm. It can be a refuge. A routine made of tenderness.

• He never takes you for granted. He’s always grateful to have you. He always chooses to stay.

Mini One-Shot: “Shared Time”

Nanami comes home later than usual. Work, as always, has taken more from him than it should.

But there you are. In the kitchen, with soft music in the background, making something simple.

He sets down his briefcase, takes off his shoes, and walks over. He leans his forehead on your shoulder, quietly.

—“Sorry I’m late,” he murmurs.

—“You don’t need to apologize,” you reply, taking his hand.

He smiles, tired but thankful.

—“Do you mind if I just… stay here for a moment?”

You nod, and he hugs you.

In that moment, the world stops. There’s only the two of you. The shared warmth. The silence full of love.

Traducción

Como novio

• Nanami no se enamora fácilmente, pero una vez lo hace, es serio, directo y completamente sincero.

• Su forma de cuidarte es práctica: asegurarse de que comas bien, que descanses, que no trabajes de más. No porque sea aburrido, sino porque sabe lo que significa estar agotado y no quiere eso para ti.

• Prefiere los gestos pequeños pero constantes. Un café caliente por la mañana, una mano que se extiende hacia la tuya en silencio, un “¿llegaste bien?” cada noche.

• Se pone nervioso con el contacto físico al principio, pero una vez se acostumbra, se convierte en tu ancla: abrazos largos, caricias lentas, la cabeza apoyada en tu regazo mientras te escucha hablar.

• Es muy observador. Nota cuando algo te preocupa incluso si no lo dices. Y se queda contigo hasta que estés bien, aunque no sepa exactamente cómo ayudarte.

Imagina:

Llegas a casa después de un mal día. Él no pregunta nada. Solo se quita la corbata, te sienta en el sofá, y te pone una manta sobre los hombros. Luego se sienta a tu lado, sin decir una palabra, y te toma la mano. Es todo lo que necesitas.

Como esposo

• Es metódico, pero cariñoso. Tiene horarios, rutinas y una manera muy particular de hacer las cosas… pero siempre deja espacio para ti en todo.

• Hace el desayuno cada mañana. No porque tenga que hacerlo, sino porque le gusta verte sonreír con el primer bocado.

• Las peleas son raras, porque prefiere resolver las cosas conversando con calma. Aun así, nunca subestima tus emociones. Siempre te escucha.

• Te llama “mi amor” de forma natural. A veces suena tan formal, tan suyo, que te da mariposas como la primera vez.

• Cree firmemente en el respeto, el compromiso, y la compañía real. No quiere una historia perfecta, solo una vida contigo.

Imagina:

Estás acostado en la cama, mirando el techo. Él entra, se recuesta a tu lado, y te pregunta: “¿Te gustaría que nos tomáramos unas vacaciones?”

No lo dice porque esté cansado… lo dice porque ha notado que t�� lo estás. Y quiere regalarte un respiro.

Como padre

• Nanami es el tipo de padre que lee artículos sobre crianza y guarda libros ilustrados en una pequeña biblioteca personal.

• Le teme al mundo, pero no por sí mismo: por su hijo. Por eso le enseña desde pequeño que ser fuerte no es lo mismo que ser frío.

• Le encanta leer cuentos antes de dormir, especialmente si puede hacer voces diferentes (aunque le cuesta).

• Tiene un álbum de fotos organizado por meses. También guarda cada dibujo, cada carta, cada recuerdo.

• Si su hijo tropieza o se cae, no corre a levantarlo… pero sí se arrodilla a su lado, le pregunta si está bien, y le dice: “Estoy aquí. Inténtalo otra vez.”

En general, una relación con Nanami es…

• Como una taza de té caliente en un día nublado. Tranquila, segura, sincera.

• Te mira como si fueras lo más valioso de su vida. No como un ideal inalcanzable, sino como alguien real, humano, a quien ama incluso en sus días más difíciles.

• A su lado, aprendes que el amor no tiene que ser una tormenta. Puede ser un refugio. Puede ser una rutina hecha de ternura.

• Nunca te da por sentado. Siempre agradece tenerte. Siempre elige quedarse.

Mini One-Shot: “Tiempo compartido”

Nanami llega a casa más tarde de lo habitual. El trabajo, como siempre, le ha exigido más de lo que debería.

Pero ahí estás tú. En la cocina, con música suave de fondo, preparando algo sencillo.

Él deja el maletín, se quita los zapatos, y se acerca por detrás. Apoya la frente en tu hombro, en silencio.

—Perdón por llegar tarde —murmura.

—No tienes que disculparte —respondes, mientras le tomas la mano.

Él sonríe, cansado pero agradecido.

—¿Te importa si solo... me quedo aquí un momento.

Tú asientes, y él te abraza.

En ese instante, el mundo se detiene. Solo quedan ustedes dos. El calor compartido. El silencio lleno de amor.