#and then when i fancied bob. for some reason

[kitchensinksurrealism]

having a hyperfixation forever nostalgic of a certain time of year feels really weird when the hyperfixation was so unpleasant. like you'll have me every april/may from now on smelling the spring air like. ah........threads (1984)......

[peterparkive]

hover | j. torres

｡𖦹°‧ synopsis: you just want to enjoy one good night out with your friends, your boyfriend, and some dangerously good cocktails—but some guys never learned to take a hint. luckily for you, joaquin’s never been shy when it comes to reminding everyone that you’re completely and utterly spoken for

-> pairings: falcon!joaquin torres x fem!reader

-> disclaimers: fluff, cursing, post cap 4 and thunderbolts (but in my fic, we don’t suffer through a sambucky fallout), no use of y/n, established relationship, slightly suggestive, use of pet names (baby, love, etc), protective joaquin, flirting from unwanted parties, kate and yelena being annoyingly loving bffs, reader lowkey just wants to rip joaquin’s clothes off

-> word count: 4k

-> song rec: jealous by nick jonas

-> a/n: no thoughts, just danny ramirez in the karol g music video, dear god. that, and joaquin’s hands on your waist like they’re permanently branded there

Sam Wilson had outdone himself.

The rooftop venue was stylish and vibrant, perched high above Brooklyn with a view overlooking the New York skyline as the setting sun glowed a soft orange and pink. String lights hang overhead, casting a golden glow over the crowd and mixing with the soft rainbow of colors emitting from the DJ’s strobe lights beside his booth. Mellow beats spilled out into the early party, weaving through the laughter and chatter of the guests.

The bar, which is the “real main attraction” according to Yelena, is polished. Expert bartenders and mixologists reside behind the counter, crafting concoctions that are named after Sam himself and his close inner circle; “Captain’s Courage,” “Redwing’s Glide,” “The Winter Sour,” and the one you’ve been most excited to try, “Falcon’s Flight.”

Nearby, low velvet couches and cocktail tables form islands where heroes, intel, and allies lounge, swapping stories and drinks.

It was Wilson’s idea for an after-mission-party, to recognize the collective effort of merged teams in retrieving an important object overseas. While the party was originally for Avengers, inner operatives, and close friends or family, the guest list extended vastly to people who work behind the scenes and now mingle among Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

It isn’t a gala or a press event, but a celebration—a rare night to unwind and have some fun after weeks of chaos and work.

Stepping through the glass doors to the rooftop and beneath an intriguingly big archway of balloons, you are engulfed by loud conversations and the hum of music.

At your sides, Yelena and Kate take in the sight with just as much surprise and wonder. Yelena’s eyes sparkle with mischief and Kate’s with disbelief.

“Fancy,” The blonde widow says, scanning the scenery. “I’m already planning on starting a fight near the DJ booth.”

“You gonna want me to break it up?” You mumble, unable to take your attention off of the elegant decorations and deliciously warm scent of drinks in fancy glasses.

“I want you to record it.” She says right back and you both snicker quietly. “Seriously though, don’t wander off far. I need you by me the whole night if I want to survive this thing.”

“Don’t listen to her. You should wander far,” Kate teasingly nudges you with her elbow and nods in the direction of the bar. “Especially wander towards him.”

Your gaze follows hers to the center of the room where Joaquin talks with Bob and Sam, that casual smile plastered on his face as he speaks.

He’s clad in black slacks and a loose white button up sleeve, save for the top few buttons that he’d purposefully left undone for some unknown reason (not that you were complaining). His curls are prominent on his head and a singular gold chain dangles from his neck. You snap your mouth shut at the sight, willing yourself not to drool. He looks incredible and you struggle to understand how he gets more and more handsome everyday.

“Don’t be shy now.” Kate says playfully.

“She is shy. Look, her face is getting warm.” Yelena jokes, raising her eyebrows with a smirk.

“It is not.” You snap.

“Yes, it very much is.”

“Shut up.” With a roll of your eyes, you turn towards your best friends. “How do I look?”

“You look good.” Kate nods confidently and Yelena hums in agreement. “Irresistible, even.”

“Thank you.” You breathe gently before twisting around in your black heels.

Straightening your shoulders, you adjust the straps to your black mini dress that cuts off mid thigh, revealing just enough leg to be considered scandalous. You inhale sharply because you find yourself suddenly nervous to greet your boyfriend even though you’d literally seen him merely hours ago at work. With as much self-encouragement as you can muster, you make your way to him through the crowd.

Joaquin’s gaze finds you immediately, pulling away from the conversation the second his eyes land on you. His smile widens on his cheeks, and he excuses himself from his friends to start off towards you.

“Mi amor,” He hums with a small tilt of his head as his eyes scan your outfit from top to bottom. “You look gorgeous.”

The feeling of his eyes on you—drinking you in like you’re a glass of wine—is enough to make your knees buckle beneath you. You never quite learned how to keep your composure around him. “Quin, you look so handsome.”

“It’s not too much?” He asks, placing his arms on your waist to tug you closer.

You shake your head with a small hum, hands gliding up the front of his shirt to fiddle with the unbuttoned buttons. “Not too much—too little.”

He makes a deep noise of satisfaction at your comment, a smirk curling up at his lips. “You like it?”

“Of course I like it.” Your hands slide up to his shoulders before gently wrapping around the back of his neck to pull him close.

With his lips now hovering against yours, he says, “Did it just for you.”

“Oh.” You tease. Then his lips connect with yours, pressing you into a singular kiss.

Whatever he’s been drinking tastes sweet in your mouth and you hum at the flavor. The kiss, though short, is passionate and you both figure you could stay forever that way. Though, as much as you want to, you can’t kiss in the middle of the crowd all night, so you pull away with a sweet smile.

He groans playfully at the lack of your lips on his.

“Later.” You say, adjusting the collar to his shirt.

“Can’t wait for later.” He mumbles with a sideways smile.

Joaquin always gets painfully soft around you, though he isn’t far from it normally. His clinginess seems to skyrocket whenever he’s in your proximity, needing to keep his hands on you no matter what the two of you are doing. You always joke that he’s like a puppy in that way because he’ll follow you around everywhere, if it means he won’t have to be without you.

“You gotta try,” You smile, gently running your hands through his hair to fix it. “Right now, we’re celebrating you.”

“And you.” He quickly corrects. “We couldn’t have finished the mission without you, baby.”

As Mission Intel Lead, you aren’t necessarily a hero like your friends and boyfriend are—shining under the spotlight and prying cameras of the press—but you’re extremely important in your own way. While everyone else’s boots are on the ground, you’re feeding them information through their earpieces, from tactical layouts to enemy movements. You’ve earned a reputation as the sharpest mind behind the scenes and there’s a chance that if a mission goes smoothly, it’s because you’re two steps ahead of everyone else the whole time.

“Says you, Mr. Falcon,” You smile, dropping your hand to his so you can give it a light squeeze. “I wanna try the drink Sam named after you.”

“Oh, you wanna drink me?” He raises his eyebrow. “Querida, say the word and we can leave right now.”

With a small eye roll and a gentle tilt of your head, you grin, “You wish.”

“I do,” He nods. “I really do wish.”

“Joaquin.” You laugh lightly and he does the same, watching your smile brighten.

The sound of footsteps grows louder in your direction and you both pull apart to watch Sam, looking as fancy as ever in a black and white tux, maneuver towards you with a knowing smile.

“Well, hello,” Sam smiles, tugging you into a side hug the moment he sees you. “Was wondering when you were gonna show up so lover-boy over here would stop looking over his shoulder for you.”

“Was not.” Joaquin sheepishly smiles, the apples on his cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

“You were too,” Sam points. “Which is why I hate to break this up, but we’ve got people asking about you, Falcon.”

“Right now?” He asks.

“No, tomorrow,” Sam sarcastically comments. “Yes right now, man.”

“Okay, okay,” Joaquin quickly turns back to you, his hand squeezing the side of your arm gently. “I’m gonna go take care of this, then I’ll find you. Or you find me. Either one works. You gonna be alright?”

You grin at his soft rambling, nothing out of the ordinary for him. You reach up, adjusting the chain on his neck so it sits flat. “Of course, my love. I’ve got Kate and Lena waiting for me.”

“Tell them I said hi.” He leans down to press a fast but sweet kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

You hum, reciprocating his smile before he and Sam take back off into the crowd. Just as you’re turning around to walk back to your friends, they beat you to it, joining you at your side.

“You two are disgusting.” Yelena says.

“Disgustingly adorable.” Kate corrects.

“No, pretty sure I just said disgusting,” Yelena jokes, her voice monotone.

You roll your eyes before grabbing onto both of their hands. “Come on, I need a drink.”

“I second that.” Kate perks up, letting her hand go limp as you drag her and Yelena off into the direction of the free bar.

The three of you do just that—huddled at the bar like self-appointed critics, spending your first hour of the party sampling every custom drink and pretending you have the credentials to back up your reviews.

“I wonder if Bucky actually had any say in what his drink tasted like,” you muse, happily sucking the last of your drink through the straw. “‘The Winter Sour’ is just…so sour.”

“I doubt it,” Yelena replies, swirling the remnants of her own drink. “I overheard him and Sam arguing about the name on the phone the other day. Bucky thought it was a personal attack.”

You and Kate both break into quiet laughter, muffled behind your cups.

“Okay,” you say, placing your empty glass down with conviction. “I know what we’re trying next.”

Kate clocks your determined stare at the drink menu and quickly downs the rest of her cocktail like a dare was issued. When the bartender glides over, you confidently order three “Falcon’s Flight” —no hesitation.

The drinks arrive moments later, a trio of vibrant ombré cocktails glowing like the same sunset just outside the windows. Shades of orange and pink swirl together beneath rims coated in glittering chili sugar, catching the light like something magical.

“Oh, this is good,” Kate murmurs with wide eyes, blinking through the surprise of the spice. “Like, dangerously good.”

Yelena takes a tentative sip and immediately grimaces. “Ugh. It’s too sweet.”

You just grin, cradling the glass. “Well, it is Joaquin’s,” you say, taking a much more enthusiastic sip.

Kate nods thoughtfully, glancing around at the other drinks on nearby trays—neutral tones of yellow, white, and pale gold. The others barely hold a candle to the pink hue glowing in your hands. “Explains the color choice.”

“I think it’s delicious.” You say with a shrug.

“That’s because you think he’s delicious.” Yelena teases, downing her drink anyway.

“Gross.” Kate mumbles.

“I do.” You say without shame.

You’re halfway through the sugary concoction when the empty space on your right grows occupied.

Landon. A tall blonde with blue eyes that have a habit of lingering in places they don’t belong. He works in the tech logistics division of the team, one of the behind the scenes brains who helps coordinate comms. He’s a smart guy, useful too, but he carries himself with far too much confidence for someone whose greatest heroic feat was troubleshooting encrypted routers.

You’ve run into him a few times—in the hallway, during briefings, on awkward elevator rides—but you never spoke to him directly. You did notice, though, the way his gaze focuses too long on the office secretaries as they pass or the way he watches you tie your hair up when it gets too hot. Tonight, he looks painfully aware of his own smug reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar.

“Ladies,” He says smoothly, sliding beside you with a drink in his hand and a smile that was clearly trying way too hard.

Kate offers him a polite nod, Yelena blinks once in response and you sip your drink slowly, hoping he’ll just greet you all and move on.

Wishful thinking.

Quickly and almost like it was first nature, he launches into some ridiculous joke that claims the three of you are “Earth’s Mightiest Threat,” which earns a pity-laugh from Kate and a blank stare from Yelena. Out of social habit, you give him a sympathetic smile but then you’re already looking past him to determine what drink you’re ordering next.

“You really pull that off,” he says, tone slick with something he drunkenly probably thought was charm. His eyes drag down your body in a slow, deliberate sweep that makes your skin crawl.

You shift uncomfortably, glancing between him and the other girls in the hope that maybe—maybe—he wasn’t talking to you. But then his gaze lands right back where it started: you.

“Me?” You ask, more out of sheer confusion than anything.

“Yeah,” he says and you immediately resist the urge to gag at the smell of alcohol wafting from his breath. “That dress looks good on you.”

You pause, the need to cringe coming naturally in his presence. Far too polite for your own good, you give him a nod that doesn’t even qualify as a thank-you.

“I know.” You reply, already turning your attention back to the bar and reaching for a napkin that you didn’t need.

Anyone in their right mind would have heard your snappy, hostile remark and automatically back off, understanding that you’re so clearly not interested. But, either it’s the drinks or simply a lack of social awareness, Landon is not catching the drift.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” He asks.

With a few blinks of disbelief at his utter determination, you sass, “We’re at a party with a lot of people so probably not.”

Your sarcastic comment went right in one of Landon’s ears and out the other. He smiles with a confidence that might've made you think he won the lottery. “Right,” He smacks his hand down on the table, standing with pride. “Catch you later, ladies.”

The moment he finally walks away, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. “God, he was wasted.”

Yelena and Kate remain silent for a beat before the latter raises her eyebrows with a smirk. “Oh, he wanted you.”

“Told you, you look irresistible.” Kate adds.

“What?” You reply a little too quickly. “No, he was flirting with all of us.”

“Oh, come on,” Yelena scoffs. “He was not, his eyes were on you the whole time.”

“Ew, gross.” Your stomach twists in disgust.

“He’s always like that at parties,” Kate points. “No sense of awareness when it comes to flirting with girls, let alone ones in committed relationships.”

You nearly shudder at the lingering discomfort of his shameless flirting. “Whatever, he won’t come back.”

“Oh, believe me,” Kate arches her brow. “He’ll try.”

You let out a small scoff and shake your head, trying to brush off the feeling. In an effort to shift the energy, you joke, “He’s always so quiet in debriefings. That might’ve been the first time I’ve ever heard him speak.”

Your friends laugh too, Yelena bringing her drink up to her mouth for a sip. “I know right.”

“It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.” Kate chuckles.

The night carries on, warm and electric with the kind of celebratory buzz that made every second of that mission feel worth it.

You stand near the bar surrounded by your friends—Kate, Yelena, Sam, Bob, Bucky, and Joaquin—conversation flowing easily between the group, full of laughter, jabs, and the type of energy that only came after completing a mission together. Joaquin has his arm loosely wrapped around your waist while he chats with Bob, the casual touch a quiet but grounding reminder of his presence.

You’re mid-laugh, fully invested in whatever chaotic story Sam and Bucky are trading off telling, when the soft vibration of your phone buzzes from inside your purse. With a curious frown, you pull it out and glance at the screen—your smile falters slightly at the name lighting up the display.

“I’ve gotta take this,” You turn to Joaquin, holding it in front of him. “Work.”

He tilts his head, concern stretching across his features. “I can go with you.”

Quickly, you shake your head, not wanting your small phone call to take away from his celebration. “No, it’s fine, love. Just five minutes. I’ll be back, yeah?”

Without pressing, he nods and gives your hand a soft squeeze before letting you go, despite how much he ached to hold onto you longer.

You weave through the crowd, slipping out of some glass double doors and onto an empty balcony, where the music grows muffled and the night air chills your warm skin. You lean against the balcony ledge, answering the call with a hushed voice as you speak.

A few minutes pass of your boss speaking through the phone about something that could’ve easily been passed on through an email, and you’re wrapping up the conversation when you feel company—unwelcome but, unfortunately, familiar.

“Work calling?” A voice asks, just near your shoulder.

It wasn’t the second time Landon tried to make an advance towards you, again. He’d done so earlier when you and Kate stumbled off to the bathroom, the man opting to wait outside the door for you to come out. Only, you shot an “S.O.S” text to Yelena who distracted him to give you and Kate enough time to sneak back outside, in between heaps of giggles.

You tense, lowering the phone the moment your boss hangs up. “Yeah,” You blink at Landon, taking a small step away to increase the distance that he is so clearly trying to minimize. “Always seems to when I’m having fun.”

“I get that,” He nods, voice slightly more slurred than the last time he spoke to you. “Enjoying the party then?”

“Was.” You say quickly, hostility rolling off your tongue.

“I can keep you company.” He presses, shrugging his shoulders casually.

With a sharp inhale, you glance up at the night sky and hope it’ll give you the strength you need to not kick him in the ankles with your heel. “No thanks. I was just about to head inside anyways.”

“I’ll go with you.” He responds.

He is unbelievably relentless and somehow even more oblivious. Kate had been right; his persistence is quiet, but annoyingly steady. It’s not like you’re trying to entertain him or give him anything to work with either. You just hope he’d be socially aware enough to pick up on the vibe—or complete lack of one, to be correct.

“Landon,” you twist towards him with a shake of your head. “I have a boyfriend.”

And you’d think it would stop there.

Wrong.

“How come I haven’t seen him?” His shoulders drop, bottom lip pushing out from beneath his top one with a look that tells you he really just doesn’t care.

Despite the fact that you’d been with said boyfriend all night, the man in front of you was clearly too drunk to tell the difference between flirting and flat-out disinterest.

You open your mouth, preparing to curse him out, when soft footsteps sound from behind the two of you.

“You’re seeing him now.”

Joaquin.

His voice is calm but cold, a sharp contrast to the warmth it usually carries. You turn, relief washing over you like a wave as he stares down Landon. He looks different, not angry but protective as his eyes narrow and he walks towards you.

With ease, his hand instinctively settles on your waist, his thumb tracing gentle circles as if silently asking, ‘are you okay?’

You nod up at him, and his gaze shifts back to the blonde beside you.

“Oh, Torres,” Landon says, straightening his posture despite the tension radiating off him. “I didn’t realize you two were a thing.”

Joaquin practically scoffs.

Bullshit.

Everyone knows you two are together—he makes sure of that. Your boyfriend treats you like you’re every star in the galaxy wrapped into one, making it hard for him to stay grounded when he’s with you. He isn’t shy about showing it; loud in the best way, and more importantly, proud. There isn’t a single person in that entire building who doesn’t know he’s yours.

So he reads Landon’s lie right through his horribly fake white teeth.

“You need something, man?” Joaquin asks with a faux friendly tilt of his head, as his cheeks grow read with a jealous heat.

Landon blinks, pushing himself off of the balcony with pursed lips. “Just saying hi.”

Joaquin lets out a laugh—one obviously forced and sarcastic, but equally as hostile. “Yeah, you’re the third guy tonight who’s tried to corner her just so he could ‘say hi.’”

A warm flush spreads through your stomach at his words and the way his hand massages your hip protectively. You can’t take your eyes off him, studying the side of his face as his jaw clenches—whether consciously or not. His eyes aren’t dark, but they hold a sternness that warns the blonde while quietly reassuring you.

Landon, who seems to finally catch the hint, raises his hands in mock surrender and begins backing away. “Alright, alright, my bad. I’ll go.”

Joaquin nods once, slow and easy. “Right.”

Taking the hint, Landon retreats quickly, weaving through the crowd to put distance between himself and the two of you.

When he’s finally gone, you allow yourself a deep exhale as your shoulder muscles loosen. Joaquin turns towards you fully, his hand gently brushing your arm.

“You good?” He asks, eyebrows knitting in concern as he scans your face for any sign of discomfort.

You can’t help but smile up at him, the action coming instinctively. You don’t say anything, only nod your head as an answer. Your silence, accompanied by the way you stare up at him with sparkles in your pupils, makes him still.

He tilts his head, the corners of his mouth curling up into a smirk of suspicion as he side-eyes you. “What?”

“Nothin’.” You hum simply, reaching down to tangle your hands in his. “I was trying to get rid of him all night, y’know?”

Joaquin nearly grumbles at the mention of Landon. “I know. It’s not your fault, baby,” He spares a glance in the direction of the door where the other man has disappeared. “He should know better. They all should.”

You watch the way his scowl contorts into something similar to a frown.

“Is it not obvious that I’m your boyfriend?” He asks, his lips puffing out in a pout that makes you want to lean up and capture it between your own lips.

“Oh, believe me, they know,” You answer, reaching your hand up to run it gently through the curls on his head. “I just don’t think they care.”

He scoffs but his eyes are on you now, watching your face like he can’t be bothered looking anywhere else. “I’ll kick all of their asses.”

You hum out a noise of satisfaction, raising your eyebrows. “I’d like to watch that.”

“You would?”

“Mhm,” You smile. “You’re pretty hot when you’re jealous.”

His shoulders straighten, like your comment gave him an automatic confidence boost. “I am?”

You nod your head, fingers trailing down the sides of his face to brush over his soft skin gently. “You got all serious and scary. I never see you like that.”

“Cause I’ve got no reason to be,” He says, letting you run your fingers over his face like you’re just desperate to be that close. “Except for when weird guys flirt with my girl all night. I mean, I was right by you for half of them, that’s just ridiculous.”

A small giggle leaves your mouth, hands dropping to find his hands again. You twist one of the rings on his thumb, eyes blinking up at him with such admiration, you thinks you might explode.

Joaquin treats you with a kindness and devotion you once thought existed only in romance novels and movies. He worships the ground you walk on, and in moments like this, when every glance and touch is focused on your comfort and safety, you can’t help but feel like royalty.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asks, watching your gaze flicker across his face.

With a small shrug of your shoulders, you respond simply, “How lucky I am.”

“I see,” He nods, a playful smile stretching across his cheeks. He brings your hands up to his mouth, taking a moment to place a soft kiss on the back of each one. “I’d actually like to argue that I’m the lucky one. Clearly, every other guy thinks he’s got a shot, but I’m the only one who gets to hold you,”

A smirk curls up at your mouth, as you watch him plant kisses on your fingers like you’re a delicately crafted statue that he doesn’t want to risk damaging.

“I’m the only one who gets to kiss you,” His lips against your skin sends a vibration of goosebumps across your body. “To make love to you.”

Warmth pools at the bottom of your stomach, his words igniting a heat that only Joaquin is capable of bringing to life. Your teeth find the corner of your inner cheek to chew on. “Quin,”

“Not much of a competition between me and them, right, mi amor?” His voice is sultry and flirtatious as his eyes flicker up to meet yours. He’s teasing you because he knows exactly what to say to make you squeeze your legs shut and leave you wanting more.

You’d take him right there if you weren’t publicly exposed thanks to the glass doors that revealed the two of you to the party like an open book. Instead, you squeeze his hand and tug him closer, chest lightly bumping against yours. “I’m yours.”

A hum leaves his mouth, his beautiful curls dropping over his forehead as he looks down at you. Completely enamored by the loving haze dancing across your eyes like smoke, he smiles, his arms finding their spot on your waist again. “Good.”

His fingers trail across your back, with a light touch that tells you he was doing it on purpose. It has your breath rattling in the back of your throat, burning with a thirst only he can quench.

“You wanna head back inside?” He asks, casually and composed.

You want to scold him for his blatantly obvious taunting. He knows what he’s doing and he’s doing it well. “You’re gonna get me all riled up and then ask if I wanna go back inside?”

Joaquin raises his eyebrow in an effort to pretend he hadn’t been whispering sweet nothings on purpose. “What do you mean?”

With a roll of your eyes, you nudge him on the arm. “You’re an asshole.”

He laughs, the sound warm as it bounces off of the balcony and through the chill air of the night. His smile nearly reaches his eyes, impossibly gorgeous in a way that makes you smile too. “I’m your asshole.”

“Ew.” You whine, but hold him close to you anyways. “Don’t say it like that.”

“How else am I supposed to say it?” He grins, head dipping to press a gentle kiss to the side of your cheek.

Your eyes flicker shut in satisfaction, just as his small path of kisses trails to your lips. When your mouths press against each other, you’re humming into the kiss, holding him there with a hand behind his neck.

The kiss is sweet—hungry—but sweet, how it always is with Joaquin. You kiss each other like it’s the first time you’ve ever done so. No matter how many moments your lips have met, they move in a unison that makes every shared exchange feel fresh and youthful.

You never get tired of it. It’s a pleasure that comes with a fervent beating of your heart and a bubbling of your stomach, like your insides are made out of the same sparkling champagne you’d long abandoned inside. Kissing him—being with him—makes you feel light on your feet, like you’re floating on Cloud 9.

“My girl.” He mumbles against your lips as the two of you slowly part.

“Always.” You say, leaning back to look at his face.

He licks his lips, playfulness glinting in his eyes. “You taste like sugar.”

You giggle as you grab his hand to begin tugging him back inside the party where all of your friends are waiting—Yelena, who you promised you wouldn’t abandon that night, likely more impatient than the rest.

“You’d know,” You respond. “I’ve been drinking ‘Falcon’s Flight’ all night.”

He lets you drag him, following behind like a puppy. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You laugh. “Shut up.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

This is my first ask for anything so forgive me in advance.

I was wondering if you'd have any gender neutral headcanons for Bob with a reader who's goth. Like a Addams Morticia and Gomez kind who looks haunting but is generally so sweet to everyone in this strange way. Readers absolutely down bad for Bob.

"Goth bad bitch I got by being autistic "

🫵👁👁👍 tysm ima go evaporate.

You and bob were jarring to look at side by side, not in a bad way, but more so in a way of curiosity of how your clashing aesthetics oddly complimented each other in a way.

However to those that knew you were aware that you were the sweetest person they've ever met, even if you did look as though you had come out of an Addams Family movie, and that was not to mention the fact that you'd often treat those closest to you in a uniuqe expression of affection.

Some of which includes being given throneless black roses, taxerdermied animals in funny outfits, home decore that is heavily assosiated with death or the afterlife, insecets submerged in amber, vertibrae bracelets, skull shaoed candel holders and even a weighted plushy of a death's head hawk moth and or bat.

your unique kind of sweetness might not be to everyone's taste but your gestures of kindess and concern for your friends well being wasn't lost on them at all, some even finding humour when you give them a taxerdermy gerbal in a fancy suit, cane and top hat or a card that said 'i'd help you cover up a murder' or 'i hope we have a shared coffin as there's no one rather be six feet underground with then you.'

to your darkness there was a sweetness that couldn't be denied as you have given each thunderbolt a morbid gift that you thought suited them.

For Yelena you had given her a selection of ear jewlery of daggers, roses morphed into skulls, the sythe of the grim reaper and more when she had told you she was in needed of more.

For Ava you had given her mini ghost figurines that line her shelves, a play on the fact that her name was 'ghost' and you saw her groan upon getting them, but the smile that followed after her playful slap to your arm told you that your gift was more then appreciated.

For John you had given him a pocket bat gnome for no particular reason at all, yet now and tehn you would see him hold the little pocket plush in his hand, squeezing it now and then when he felt the need to worsen his mental state by looking online. it brought him an odd sense of comfort that he will never admit to you but it was clear to see whenever he pulls out his keys, the bat gnome was there, ever present.

For Alexei you had gotten him shot glasses in the shapes of skulls, bats or a regular beer glass with similar designs for whenever he treated himself to a celebratory drink or two. You were given a bone crushing hug from the man as he laughs wholeheartedly in your ear, but you wouldn't trade it for anything.

now as for Bob you were incredibly infatuated with the man who could barely watch a horror movie without burring his head into your shoulder, the man who always complimented your look even if you dressed like you were going to kill someone, all the while with an adorbale puppylove within his big blue eyes.

you couldn't help yourself but find everything he did to be something spectacular, even if it was simply washing the dishes, reading self help books or toying with the seelves of his baggy sweater out of nervous habbit, biting his bottom lip.

anything he did was precious to you and you didn't want to waste a single second no worshiping the ground he walked upon, kiss the back of his hands, kiss his forehead and whisper words of affection agaisnt him when his mind told him otherwise. even if your words of affection consisted of how you'd walk through the valley of death for him, hoping to join your souls in elysium forever, never to part from one another like you never did in life.

you didn't dare think about parting from his side, only doing so when when he required his own space, but otherwise you were locking your arms with his as you wandered through the halls of the Watchtower close together. the mere thought of parting from Bob pained your heart and you'd act like a mourner when he leaves your sight for five seconds, you literally wore a funeral outfit when Bob left your side for just about anything.

'my heart has been shredded in two, never to be put back together becuase the pieces are so small, so incapable of fitting together again as the love of my life has left me on my lonesome.' - you when Bob had to get something from his room, he even gave you a kiss on the forehead, telling you he'd be back but the second he stepped out of the room you were inconsolable.

so when Bob does come back with what he needs, you've latched onto him and burry your face within his neck while the man is smiling sheepishly, rubbing your back as he holds you close as whispered that he would never take that long again.

Bob was not use to having someone like you in his life to love him and act as if any amount of ditance between you two was heartbreaking for you, and looking at him as though he was more then he gave himself credit for, holding his face between your hands and like you haven't seen him in a while and commiting every part of his face to your memory in the unfortunate event you would forget what he looked like.

even though you both knew you never would, how could you forget the face, the laugh and the smile of a man whom you love with your whole heart so easily becuase that didn't sound like you at all. not one bit.

many wonder how Bob managed to have you, but you were quick to tell them that it was him who had managed to hook you with his kindess, his sweet soul, his beauitful heart and his ability to extend the hand towards those who needed it despite suffering his own battles.

You were taken the moment that Bob had given you flowers that unfortunately dried up and died, yet you loved them regardless and had them put in a photoframe that remained on your bedside table to this day, amongst other things that he had given you since that fateful day.

there wasn't a words that left your lips that didn't contain Bob's name in someway, talking about how beautiful he was, how generous he was and yet how powerful he was when doing simple tasks that displayed the strength that no average human possesed, a Hercules like figure if you will but without the demi-god status, but a man delt a tragic man and came out of it an even brighter version of himself despite the trials and tribulations he went through.

His heart still bleeds kindness, his smlie brought you joy and life within your chest, his touch brough air to your lungs and his eyes allowed you to know where home was whcih was with him and in his arms, basking in his warmth as you allowed his light to shine on your darkest days.

you loved Bob so deeply you fear that the broken heart that would follow from it would kill you, yet there was reassurance that you would find him again in the infinate lives you'll both share in differrent universes, whether he was still called Bob or gone by another name, he would still be yours becuase you will it so and demnad that fate let you have this one simple ask; to always allow you to be by Bob's side.

not becuase you didn't think he could surivive without you, you knew he could as he was the strongest man you've ever loved in a long, long time. you merely ask the universe, ask fate this because you couldn't see yourself without him.

Bob was happy that he had you, he didn't mind you clining onto him like you do, for you always gave him the space to breath when needed but even then Bob just wants you to be close by. He could never feel down when you were there telling him that you'd much rather commit arson then ever say goodbye to him, a weird thing to say but Bob knew that this was just you being passionate about him.

'i'd kill for you my love.' you tell him. 'i wouldn't let a single thing hurt you or threaten you, as i would gladly die for you if you so ask me to as well as live for you if you pleaded me to. whatever you want from me will forever be yours without question.' you finished as you ran your fingers through his hair, admiring how soft and fluffy it was as it slipped through your fingertips.

'i could never ask you to such lengths for me.' he tells you, knowing that you weren't joking when saying that you'd kill for him should he show a distate for someone. To have someone do something without much of a reason other then your lover told you to do so wasn't a fate Bob wanted for you, he didn't want your hands stained in blood for him as he'd much rather just be here with you in your shared bed; thankful that you get to do so and lull him to sleep like you always did with your protective presence.

'i know my love,' you replied, 'i'm just merely putting out the extents i'd go for you, but if you only wish me to be here for you then here for you i will be forever and always.'

Bob grabs your free hand, intertwine your fingers as he placed it on his chest, where you could feel his heart beat, before kissing it as he looked at you with such softness it took the air from your lungs. 'then i want you to stay, here, with me and like this even when we're old ang grey, please.'

you smile and kissed the tip of his nose, then across his forehead, then back down his nose until you pecked his lip softly as you rested your forehead against his own. ‘Then here I will stay, until we’re old and grey and the grim reaper allows us a final moment because even death wouldn’t dare tear a love as pure as ours apart, granting us the possibility of finding one another again and again until forever ends.’

‘Until forever ends.’ Bob echoed, closing his eyes as he allowed himself this happiness that he thought he’d never get, happy to have been proven wrong as he finally got to say that he had been loved

[ang3ltine]

𝖭𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𓍯𓂃 Bob reynolds fic

A classic dinner party was all Bob needed to finally confess to the person whom he had been harbouring feelings for months

a.n - Just Yelena teasing the hell out of you and Bob.

This is another teaser! Sorry guys I'm busy with work during the week but during the weekend I will post the full story.

Before Bob met you and the thunderbolts team, his world was empty and seemed endless. He felt as if there was nothing else left for him.

But he was wrong. When you saved Bob from the void, he naturally looked up to you. This of course, brang teasing comments from the others, especially from Yelena and Ava, sometimes even Walker.

He felt himself becoming completely enamoured by you. It began as a spark, so small that he mistaken it as something else. Yet over time, it grew stronger. As if an unseen force was pulling him closer towards you.

When he consulted this 'issue' with Yelena, he soon learned that he had indeed fallen in love with you. Which scared him at first. He had no idea how to approach it.

That was until Valentina decided to invite him to one of her extravagant parties to celebrate her 'success' in bringing the official Avengers team together. It had been a few months since then, but she finally got permission from the government to carry out her plans.

The dress code for this evening was vintage couture, Bob ofcourse had help from the girls since he's never really dressed up for an event this fancy before. So here he was in a nervous state, infront of the vanity table of none other than Ava Starr. Who was getting rather impatient with Bob for a number of reasons.

"Bob sit still. Your hair's gone messy again," Ava groans while trying to brush through his dark curls once again. He had alot of opinions on how his hair should look but Ava insisted on her idea with the side swoop was better.

After what seemed like forever, Bob was ready. The only thing left was his bow tie, suggested by Yelena, who was now putting in on for him. Ava almost snorted when she saw that he had to bend down slightly for Yelena since she was significantly shorter than him, earning a glare from the young blonde.

Yelena was firm yet reassuring when speaking with Bob, making sure he was ready for the night ahead of the. "Bob, listen to me. You're confessing to her tonight. I don't want to see you loitering near the tables with us alright?"

Bob was quiet for a moment before talking, a noticeable shift to worry evident in his voice. "But...what if I'm wrong? I... I don't want to ruin things between us if I am-"

Yelena interjects before Bob could say another word, already sensing that he'd ramble on about him not being worthy for you. "Bob you're being ridiculous! She's been giving you the same signals for months, there's no way she'd turn you down."

Ava had been listening from her bed and offered some advice for him too after fixing her own makeup. "I agree. Otherwise she's not going to get the hint and move on to someone else."

Bob talk a deep breath and exhaled before nodding in agreement. Ava was right, he had to make a move.

It was quite the classy event, almost timely even. A massive hall that was dimly lit with candles and looming chandeliers and the place was already packed with people.

If anything, Bob grew even more nervous while he sat idly at his table. You along with the rest of the team was doing an interview with the press for the promotion of the new Avengers agenda. He looked around in the meantime, many were in sleek suits or vintage dresses, posing for the press with polite smiles and champagne in hand.

"You think Bob's alright? All of this must be overwhelming for him." You whispered to John while waving at the flashing cameras infront of you. Your cheeks were becoming sore from smiling too much.

It was understandable for you to be worried, you weren't sure whether an introverted man like him would cope in such a crowded place.

"I'm sure he's doing fine. It's not like he's a little kid." John responds while patting your back, he then turns your attention towards someone in the crowd. "Speak of the devil, here he comes."

You followed John's finger to where Bob was standing, his hands politely folded infront of him as he patiently waited for you all to be finished. It was quite adorable to spot his head bobbing up and down in the sea of guests beyond the press team.

"I don't think he can see us properly," you mused while giving your last signature to a fan, kindly thanking them for coming.

"Well he's clearly not here to see us." Ava nudged playfully, giving you a knowing look. Sometimes, you wished that wasn't so brazen with the smug look on her face.

"I don't know what your insinuating but I know it's not like that." You let out an exasperated sigh as you followed her off the stage, with the rest of the team following in pursuit. Ava wanted to tease more but thought it would be better to let things play out itself.

"Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that."

The interviews had gone well, nobody spilled secrets thanks to Bucky. As for swearing it was kept to a minimum, which was a pretty hard thing for Alexei and most importantly, Walker didn't lose his temper. Which you took as a pretty big win considering how hot headed he can be.

"You guys go on ahead! I'll bring Bob with me when I find him."

As for Bob, he had some trouble getting through the dense crowd so that he could finally reunite with them. Abhorrently overwhelmed and only wanted to seek some sort of comfort from you. To his relief, he spots you in the distance, prompting him to press further and almost pushed a lady by accident on the way.

At some point you see him too, and began making your way towards him. Lucky for you both, there was some space in the middle of the dance floor for you two to meet. "Bob over here!"

You wouldn't say Bob's reaction was 'dramatic' when he falls into your awaiting arms, if anything you were grateful that he found solace in you. He didn't even get a chance to properly look at you since his first thought was burying his face into the crook of your neck to breathe in your scent.

Black cherries and dark liquor filled his senses. Sharp yet addictive. It was more than enough to calm himself down .

Maybe the night ahead won't be so bad after all.

[angelic-sturniolos111]

*The New Avengers | headcanons

authors note: marvel tumblr is SO BACK BABY. we’re getting avengers tower fics again— i could cry 🥹 obviously don’t read if you haven’t seen thunderbolts* although there’s not really any spoilers in this anyways

marvel characters masterlist

marvel taglist

Yelena

has a cute array of various succulents on the windowsill of her bedroom.

owns more stuffed animals than the average adult female probably should.

she doesn’t really read all that much, but if she hears of a new bestselling book, or anytime she passes by a bookstore, she always buys a new book for Bob :’)

hates the color pink.

likes to coordinate pranks to pull on Bucky with John.

downloaded tinder just to try it out. made a profile. deleted said profile less than half an hour later. deleted the app. never again.

Bucky

in the early hours of the morning when everyone is still sleeping he’ll make his way to the tower gym, play a YouTube yoga routine on his phone, and do morning yoga. he’s very embarrassed about it for some reason, but it’s therapeutic for him. plus he’s like, 100 years old, so it’s good for his muscles and bones.

HATES the taste of beer. drinks the absolute fruitiest, girliest cocktails and has NO shame about it whatsoever.

really pushing for the team to agree to getting a cat as a pet to let roam around the tower and such. Bucky gives cat dad vibes idk.

asked Bob and Yelena to teach him how to use FaceTime so he can FaceTime Okoye :’)

journals every night before bed.

loves loves LOVES matcha tea.

makes sure he does the daily wordle.

Ava

has a passion for cooking and loves making new recipes for the team to try.

with her newfound freedom and autonomy, she looks back on pop culture moments she missed from her stolen childhood. she finds that she LOVES 1D and becomes a directioner later in life. better late than never.

loves to go to local farmers markets and festivals.

John

diehard Atlanta Falcons fan and always asks (demands) the team to watch the game with him.

Bob always says yes even though he has zero interest in football and has no idea what is going on 99% of the time (he’s just happy to be included :) )

Alexei also always says yes, but it’s because it’s an excuse for him to sit around and drink some beers… then he goes on and on praising “the great American sport” of football.

John hates doing laundry. hates it. like will literally wait until he doesn’t have a single clean pair of underwear left before doing it.

he likes to hit the gym/ train with Bucky even though Bucky outperforms him most of the time. john will pretend he’s not even breaking a sweat to keep his composure and make himself look “cool” for Bucky even though he’s going to collapse on the gym floor (hydra serum IS the fancy one).

John will never admit to it, will take this secret to his fucking GRAVE, but he absolutely loves Bridgerton. he sat in on Ava watching an episode and said things like “this is so stupid” “what is this shit” but then immediately went to his room afterwards and binged the entire series.

Bob

has posters of his favorite bands/artists plastered all over his bedroom walls like a damn teenager.

keeps a (rather large) poster of “the new avengers” on the wall in front of his bed so he can see it before he goes to bed at night and when he wakes up in the morning to start his day.

likes to paint yelena’s nails for her because it’s very calming and grounding for him.

“I mean— I- I can paint them! You know, uhm, like if that’s okay with you? Not in a weird way I- I just—”

“Sure Bob, you can paint my nails for me.” :)

always shyly compliments Yelena and Ava randomly “that’s a nice color on you” “your hair looks really nice today”

loves to sit on the balcony of avengers tower and just people watch, nature watch. really take everything in and ground himself.

gets really excited for holidays. he likes to go to the party store and decorate different rooms in the tower for whatever holiday is coming up.

downloaded Duolingo to learn some basic Russian to impress Yelena… but Alexei ends up appreciating it was more and presses Bob about doing his daily lessons so he doesn’t lose his streak.

Alexei

ice cream addict. LOVES ben & jerry’s. it got to the point where he was buying so much ice cream “for the team” that it was taking up all the space in the kitchen freezer. so, he bought a mini fridge for his room and he keeps them there for himself.

INSISTS that, at least once a week, the team has a “game night” with all sorts of board games, charades, etc… the team will grunt groan and protest everytime he asks, but ultimately they all end up having fun (and arguing like crazy)

watches love island. he 1000% watches love island.

snores SO FUCKING LOUD— like the team is begging Val to reconstruct his bedroom to make it soundproof. you can hear him snoring from down the hall.

never makes it through a single movie. falls asleep every. single. time. very dad of him.

please let me know if you like this because I haven’t written for marvel in YEARS, but I’m looking to get back into it! let me know if you want a part two, or if you want solo character headcanons :)

[takenbypeter]

Sweater

Bob Reynolds x reader

Words: 516

A/N: Prequel to Touch Starved but I mean you could read in itself too

Yelena noticed things. 

And while she did, most of the time she let things go. People could do whatever they wanted in life, she didn’t care. But this? This was just strange.

“Are you wearing the same sweater? Again?” She asked, pointing out the brunette’s sweater. 

It was indeed the exact same sweater that he’s been wearing every single day for the past week. “Maybe. What about it?”

“You don’t have any other clothes? You need me to buy some? I can get very fashionable, fancy clothes,” Alexei spoke up from his spot in the kitchen, his mouth full of wheaties. 

“No I have clothes. But I just like this one,” he said, running his hand up one of the arms feeling the softness of the material. 

Yelena rolled her eyes a smirk threatening to spill on her lips, “it also helps that his beloved likes that sweater.”

“Woah, woah, I didn’t say any of that.” Bob defends. 

“Is true though, no?” Alexei asks both him and Yelena, turning to Bob. 

He paused which honestly was a bad call on his part because as soon as he did, he knew that they knew what that meant. I mean sure you expressed you liked the sweater and sure you’ve softened into the sweaters material once or twice before you left for that mission and yeah you’ve been gone for almost a week now and the lack of contact was killing the poor brunette but those weren’t the only reasons. 

“I mean I also just like the sweater,” he mumbled tugging on the end of the sleeves. “It’s comfortable and soft,” he explained, causing Yelena to shake her head at the man, turning her attention back to whatever it was that she was doing in the first place. 

“Whatever man. It’s your stinky sweater.” In her peripheral view she could see him lift his arm bringing the fabric to his nose taking a whiff. 

She suppressed another laugh and added one more thing, “oh I forgot to mention,” his head left his sweater paying attention to her words, “you’ll be happy to know that they’re mission is completed and everyone will finally be back tomorrow.”

Bob’s eyebrows raised. Was he elated? Absolutely. Was he doing his best to contain his emotion? One hundred percent. As he nodded, he kept his mouth tight, before blurting out, “that’s great. Can’t wait to see everyone.”

“Right. Everyone,” Yelena repeated, “and I’m sure everyone can’t wait to see you,” she said before deciding that was enough and she’d leave him be for now. 

With her attention and suspicion off of him he finally felt he could breathe. 

That’s when he heard a, “psst,” come from the kitchen. Face expressing confusion he turned to the source and locked eyes with Alexei who was beckoning him over. 

Leaving his spot he followed and once close enough Alexei whispered. “I can help! I have great advice for you to get lover.”

And while Bob knew deep in his heart he should’ve walked away, his feet were already planted into the floor as Alexei continued on. 

[niyafics]

: •̩̩͙ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙙 ⋆｡°  •̩̩͙ ໋:🦁

chap3 : say the word.

chap1 here!

chap2 here!

frat!old money!paige bueckers x reader AU

˳ ⋅ ⊹ wc: 3.7k

˚ ⋅ ⊹ cw: swearing, implied sex, perfect angst,golden retriever x black cat dynamic, kissingggg, issues ( lmk if i miss something. )

˚ ⋅ ⊹(a/n): lol hiiiii *tucks hair behind ear* :*

AT the table, Paige barely speaks. The playful energy she usually sports is smoldered. You stare at the charcoal colored wood that’s been carved into a long, rectangular, dining room table. Fancy designs are engraved around the rim. Different-sized forks and knives are folded in a cloth napkin, like you’re at a restaurant and not someone’s home. The only reason you know what half of them are used for is because of your job.

Paige sat across from Bob, you next to her, and the other three people your age, across from their fathers, next to Mr. Bueckers. It was adolescent, you thought—like they were misbehaved children, forced to sit down and get along.

The only people talking are Bob and his colleagues. Crunching numbers and planning more things, while humbly bragging behind it all.

It felt like that was the point of the whole feast. Showing off, smarts, or wealth and their golden children. A steaming plate is placed in front of everyone by a server, savory smells waft up your nose. Paige is less than enamored by the platter, picking at the vegetables, scarcely actually eating, or even looking at you. For once, she wasn’t trying to draw attention.

The food is delicious and warm, yet you’re chewing nervously, unable to stop feeling eyes on you, having no choice but to greet some of the looks with an awkward, side smile.

You feel a hand grab your free one sitting in your lap. It’s Paige’s familiar fingers embracing yours.

Bob and Paige are glaring at each other: The longer the blonde girl doesn’t speak, the more he’s burning holes into her. Finally, after a few quiet bites, he interacts with someone other than his brothers.

“I’m glad you two can join us.” He wipes his mouth, finishing chewing before continuing. “I wanted to introduce your guest to the Blue.” The Blue was referring to their high-profile members. It felt weird and cultish to you. Paige’s eyes briefly hit the back of her head, in annoyance, still she complies.

“(Y/N), these are my dad’s frat brothers. Like uncles to me.” She nods towards them while looking at you. Her face has an apologetic, embarrassed glaze to it. “This is (Y/N), my…” She paused, dramatically letting the weight lay thick on the room. You, Kassie, and Bob are all on edge for a moment.

“Friend!” You immediately yelp, maybe too loud. Giving Paige a funny look for the dragging answer, she’s leaning back, smug, at your flustered outburst, watching you stumble. Your face is flushed with heat, wondering what she was about to say. “Friend…Nice to meet you.”

The men nod authoritatively in your direction. Feeling relief set in, from them not tearing at you, like you’d expected. Kassie sneers at you, across from her father, who is entertained by your presence. He asks the most questions. From your major to your grade point average, your academic achievements. The more you answered, the easier it got.

Mr. Talfold isn’t as intimidating as Mr. Bueckers. He’s a chubby man who bellows at every tiny joke you make. This makes Bob and the other two men grin and add in. The group is astonished by your independence, sharing widened, amazed eyes when you say how you pay your bills and don’t have a trust fund. They each make a quip about their children never doing such.

Paige is the only one who can laugh at it, as the boys are starting to join Kassie with their irritated glances. You don’t let it faze you, you weren’t there to impress them anyway. Or anyone, except maybe... Your eyes flicker to the Bueckers’. The girl's warm palm against your own dampens the anxiety.

You mention your leap year, and their faces turn slightly sour. Paige, who’s been watching you handle this whole new environment forced at you, with nothing but adoration behind her powdered colored eyes, tenses up, your confidence dimming. She pushes back her shoulders, ready to defend you. Bob does instead.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. (Y/N) is very responsible and capable,” He gives you a quick upwards curl of the mouth and takes another bite from his plate. The men make noises of agreement. “Right?”

“Exactly, sir.” Your hair bobs up and down. Mr. Talfold speaks to you while chewing.

“I’m impressed, truly, if your grades were as good as you say they were,” He belly laughs and continues, “you’re exactly what we’re looking for in The Blue.” Kassie almost chokes on her food, one of the sons patting her back.

“Daddy-“ She begins to whine, and Mr. Talfold lifts his hand to stop her, firmly. The brunette is angrily biting her words this time. Paige looks at you with excitement, like things are just getting good. You’re biting your lip, eyes darting, trying to gauge all the emotions from what the round man had said, obviously from too much aged wine. Bob raises a brow, not in question, but in thought.

“I completely agree…” Paige puts on a fake engaged tone, sitting up in her seat again, now enthusiastically shoving vegetables in her mouth. “Don’t you, Dad?” Paige has that troublemaking glint back on her beautiful face, and you frown, brows scrunched. The next one she gives you tells you to trust her. Your pulse thumps, waiting for the reaction. Chest tight, hoping that you secretly did win Bob over, not for academic success, though.

Everyone is staring at him for an answer. Except for Paige, grinning at her dish, squeezing your thigh now, under the table. He’s looking into his daughter with a suspicious scowl, trying to see what trouble was brewing behind her. You’re wondering the same thing. His shoulders shrugged cautiously.

“We’ll see.”

AFTER dinner, Paige sneaks the both of you off while the Blue discusses responsibilities, she should’ve been listening to, like the other silver spoons. You wondered how many times she’d skipped out on the most crucial part of the get-together, for everyone to not bat an eye. Bob, of course, noticed. Having a disgruntled gape that Paige shrugged off, as she guided you towards the familiar front of the house, you gave a tiny wave goodbye, to try not to seem rude. Paige also could’ve cared less for polite exits.

The blonde is asking if you’re ready to go while taking her keys from her pocket and unlocking the car’s doors with a satisfying click. She goes on about possible plans for the next time she sees you, which she asks if she ‘will see you again, right?’; that approval seeking back in her voice, while holding the front entrance open for you.

You’re fogged with the question of what the hell that was, still impressed by managing to not make a complete ass of yourself. Maybe your parents forcing you into middle school debate club, and student council paid off.

You’re in autopilot, walking towards the sports vehicle and slipping inside onto the cooled leather seats. The sun was setting a pink over the quiet neighborhood. It had to be after 7pm at least. Paige isn’t close behind, looking amused at her chaos. Your eyes peer out against the window to search for her, suddenly socially burnt out, ready to sit in the shower and overthink this whole thing.

Kassie and she are standing in the doorway together, too close for your liking. That feeling you couldn’t make out at first, when you saw them together nights before, is back. It’s clear as day, jealousy. You’re holding your breath trying to listen in. The girl who detested you spoke lowly and soft to Paige. Inaudible. It feels tense.

Paige seems exhausted, running her hand down her face, replying plainly to whatever whispered, with almost a groan.

“Dude, I’m not dealing with this right now…” Paige is loud against the window muffle, stepping away from the short figure, which sets Kassie off even more. She reaches to grab for Paige, but she’s already down the small porch, toward you. You lean over the armrest, trying to increase your view and hearing. Paige ended the conversation, yet the brunette whines on behind the tinted glass. You can only make out her shouting at Paige’s back, about something, someone, being in the way.

Too smart to be oblivious, hot embarrassment drops in your stomach. Even impressing the cult leaders wasn’t enough to stop her. You had something she wanted. Paige. It wasn’t hard to guess why. The softness in her touch, the goofy tug in her expressions. But it was deeper than Paige being dorky. It was the money stacked underneath her in promise. Kassie felt her pampered fantasy being threatened by the working class. You grinned to yourself now.

Paige pops open the door, and leans down with the same silly smile you’d been fantasizing embracing infront of all of those gold and blue morons. Kassie had just been background noise. Knowing you’re in earshot, she stops herself in her tracks, and eyes you down until the door closes, you away from view. You can’t help but stare back, even through the tint, you feel Kassie can see you, that she knows you’re peering back.

I got the girl, you tell her telepathically. Paige is gripping your inner leg again, as she reverses with an exhausted sigh, as if to confirm it.

THE sound of her profusely apologizing again breaks you out of your thoughts.

“It’s okay, princess,” you mumble with a soft chuckle, watching other foreign cars pass, letting you know you weren’t home yet.

“No, it’s not. They’re assholes. Kassie..” She violently rolls her eyes, grunting, fists tight. “I know what it looks like between us, it’s-“

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” You shrug.

“Why not?” Her head darts to look at you from the road so quickly, the blond hair moves with her. You can’t help but burst out laughing.

“We’re not together or anything-“

“Who says we won’t be?”

She stops at the red light. Scarlet from the break light before you illuminate your faces, as they try to read each other. Your mouth is still tugged upward, trying to soften the seriousness in Paige’s. Eyebrows drawn, puppy eyes on perfect display for you to take. Her voice is slow, sultry, making you warm all over.

“Just don’t want you to worry about her, I…” You find yourself taking a shaky breath with her. “I like you. That’s all.” Paige throws up a quick smile, and the light is green. Then you’re both staring forward again.

It’s quiet for the rest of the ride, besides the low sound of Paige’s playlist. You look at fluorescent signs against the night sky, flying past you. Paige’s fingers are digging into the armrest leather, obviously still thinking about how you may be feeling. You place your hand on top of hers, slightly nervous, it would be an embarrassing attempt right now. She relaxes.

You finally arrive home and you’re thrilled to be inside, still you linger in Paige’s passenger seat. She leans back, as if to get one more soak of your presence, rubbing her hands in her hair. Once you unbuckle yourself, you lean over to surprise her with a kiss, but she does the surprising, grabbing you up, almost over the armrest.

“Come inside.” Your body speaks for you. Begs for you. For some reason, there was no stopping you around Paige. You couldn’t ration it out anymore by trying to stay nonchalant. Since you saw her pearled smile in the bar, you’ve wanted her to tear past the facade you put up.

“Are you sure?” She muffles out before pushing back against your mouth, taking off her seatbelt feverishly anyway.

“Shut up.” You both laugh.

PAIGE lurched over you from behind, hands around your midsection, while you unlocked your entrance. Her gentle, excited lips pecking and playfully biting the side of your neck. It sends tickles down your spine that you find yourself still giggling from as she throws you onto your bed. Your bed isn’t far from your couch, and your kitchen is super close by too. She barely notices. Clawing at your clothes like they’re offending her.

Sex with her feels as if she’s being rewarded. A thirst quenched. You’re soft with sweat, arousal is thick in the air. You can’t stop replaying the grunts and growls from Paige. The profanities she moaned into your heat, between your legs.

Blankets are dragged onto the floor. You lie naked next to the other, so close your skin sticks where it touches. Neither cares. You find yourself studying the silhouette of the cute woman quietly snoring into your sheets. Rehearsing the spots where your lips worked, love bites and flushed heat rushed to. You stare at Paige, your heart pounding to kiss her again. A million times. Everywhere.

Thinking of all the ways you’d do it until your eyelids fall heavy into a slumber. For the first time in months, you dream.

YOU wake up to the smell of something burning, immediately flinging yourself upwards. The landlord wasn’t kind enough to upgrade the fire system, so any real smoke would leave your place drenched in water. A guilty Paige stands in your kitchen, technically across from your bed, slowly turning around, with a grimace on her face, bracing to be scolded.

One hand holds a spatula, the other a plate with what seems to be a pancake on top. It’s burnt to a crisp. Your shoulders slump in half relief and amusement.

“Sorry, I’ve never made anything that didn’t go in an oven or microwave…” She blushes. You shake your head with a light laugh, sleepily, checking the time. 2 hours before you’re back to work.

You throw on your robe, hanging from the bed frame, and stride up to her. Grabbing the plate to dump the pancake, she obediently sits on a barstool nearby, at the island that doubled as your dining table.

Paige is in her t-shirt and boxers from off your floor, a scrunchie from your bathroom counter in her hair lazily. She was more than comfortable at your place. You cringe a little thinking of what she might’ve seen or dug into, then you relax, once you glance up at her, wiping batter off the counter.

Her blue gaze peers at you. Round and full, following with adoration as you pick up her mess. She’s oblivious to you doing so. You don’t think she knows she made one at all.

Paige’s stare is wrapping around you like a warm hug as you turn into the cupboards and drawers for two bowls and spoons. You don’t meet them until you’re pouring the milk in, almost stupidly overfilling your bowl.

“Thank you.” She blushes, you tilt your head to her, and take a seat on the plastic stool next to her. Both were eating in silence, stealing secret glances at one another. Paige swivels in her seat until your bare outer legs are flush. Finally, she speaks.

“I could get used to this…” Paige hums, putting her heavy head onto your shoulder, and you let yours lean slightly on hers.

“Used to what?”

She gestures around. You snort a laugh. As if she’d prefer your 12-inch apartment space over castle Bueckers. The sharp uncomfortable springs in your mattress, opposed to hers that cradles and sucks you in.

“I’m serious. I think I could live anywhere, as long as you’re there rolling your eyes next to me.” She teases, leaving a fat smooch against your cheek. You bump her shoulder with yours playfully, flush faced. It takes everything in you not to cut your eyes again. She’s learning you. Getting closer than anyone in a long time. You’re suddenly anxious you might screw this up. Things never stayed good for long.

As if on cue, Paige’s phone, face up between you both, buzzes. You’re the first to look at it. You don’t mean to, your curiosity just instinctively eats at you. It’s Kassie.

Kassie Talfold

taking out the trash?

She doesn’t wait for a response to text again. The phone jolts.

Kassie Talfold

mr b is looking for you. thought you were with me. but i told him ur prob in the slums again? :)

The words are so venomous that they leave a sour taste in your mouth. You suddenly have no appetite. Paige looks up from her bowl, still smirking, to see what stopped your shoving, that she’s beginning to find comfort in.

“What?” Her brown brow strings upwards before looking down at the phone, which pings again with a second reminder. She huffs deeply, looking at you apologetically before picking it up cautiously. She grits her teeth as she opens the thread, like she had gotten terrible news. Paige’s eyes soften as she turns towards you, setting the phone down again, without replying.

“This stops today, okay? She’ll never say a fucking thing about you again, I promise. Say the word.” Paige’s slim fingers grip the sides of your thighs affectionately, seafoam colored orbs pleading with you to peer into them. You do, with pain you’re trying to hide under a blank expression. She seeps in you.

“It’s no big deal, it’s exactly what I meant by we’re too different, too…” You shake off the words, turning back to your now fruity-pebble-flavored milk. Poking at it with your spoon seemingly absent minded. Thinking of so much. A strong desire to cry from being reminded of the feeling of being an outcast bubbles in your chest. You thought you escaped that as a teen.

“No, hush, we are just alike.” Paige refuses it, turning you back towards her, you look back at her with slight surprise. Her pretty, perfect teeth lined up for you in an expression full of feeling like they seemed to be every time you moved your head to look. “You practically melted into me last night. We’re one.” She takes your hand, making you drop your spoon, and places it on her chest. Paige’s grip is tight, desperate for you to get it. To see something.

“Don’t shut me out now.”

“I am not...” You shake away a thought. Paige pulls you into her arms to hold.

“They’ll all see what I see. You’re with me now. They just have to accept it. Accept how amazing you are.” She mostly speaks to herself. Convincing herself. Pulling back, you scan her face. Searching for something. Some doubt, some sign that all of this was an elaborate lie to get in your pants. But she was searching for you too. Searching for you to trust her. To give in, like she had. Paige was generous, confident, free, in more ways than socially and financially. Naive.

“Why? Why make me fit?”

Paige shakes her head.

“You never needed to. It’s perfect. You don’t have to fit into shit. You’re the whole damn picture.” She rambles it out like it’s some amazing realization she’s just made. You sit dumbfounded, never being seen in this light. Never sure someone could be so..passionate about…you.

Paige’s phone is going off. This caller has a personalized alarm on the blonde's phone that sounds like a blaring siren. As if meant to spike anxiety. It makes you sit straight. Yes, it’s Bob.

Even with a phone call, he’s able to knock Paige’s attitude down a dozen pegs. She answers the phone with a ‘Yes?’, looking at you apologetically. You feel your moments with her nearing an end. It’s fine, you tell yourself, you have work anyway.

Of course, after the call, Paige is rushing to get dressed. She had missed yet another meeting or something of importance, but Bob wasn’t as nice this time. You’re halfway hoping he doesn’t think you purposely made Paige skip, you playfully poke fun at her for not telling you she had something important.

“Importance is subjective, it wasn’t as important as being next to you naked.” She grins, you blush and smile back, pinching her cheek. You’re both walking towards the door, Paige pats her pockets frantically for her keys, and you hand her them out of your robe pocket.

“On the floor.” That’s where she had threw them when you’d passionately burst in together the night before.

“You’re an angel.” She kisses you sweetly on the mouth, her toned arms wrapping around your waist one more time, lingering. You push her out the door, not wanting to see her go.

“And you’re late.”

[pagesfromthevoid]

I literally can't stop thinking about Thunderbolts and how emotional it is. I desperately want to eat snacks with Bob in his reading nook

OKAY BUT SAME. I have a book nook and I just KNOW that man is so content in his corner because it’s my favorite spot too. With one of those big comfy chaise chairs?? Hear me out….

For the first few months after the Incident™️ (as the Thunderbolts group chat has deemed it), Bob isn’t very social. He feels bad, and he’s waiting for any and all of this…niceness to go away.

It always does.

The one thing he finds solace in is this little corner by the window that he’s deemed his. At first, it’s just a pillow and some throw blankets he piles up and sits in because that’s all he really has. But then, a chaise chair shows up one day. Nothing fancy, but big enough for at least three people for some reason.

He tests the waters because he was really content with his little blanket corner. But the chair is really nice, and it’s so comfortable. And it’s nice to have because he sleeps better when he’s around the others so he naps whenever they’re around in the corner.

Then a bookshelf shows up. Not a big one. Just one of those Billy bookcases from IKEA. But it’s sitting there, with the stack of books he had collected set up neatly on it. There’s empty space for him to add more. It’s hard to focus on books for long periods of time but that’s okay, because now he can just…set them on the shelf.

More books show up slowly over time. Little sticky notes from the team on the covers, telling him they thought he’d like them (he uses them as bookmarks).

You leave him a book one day. Bright pink sticky note on the inside cover that says:

Thought of you when I saw the cover. I hope you like it. Let me know —I’m reading it too.

He has to out the note in the back because he gets distracted, reading it over and over instead of the actual book.

He’s about halfway through the book a month later, still trying to focus on it, when he finally feels like he can kind of talk about the book without sounding stupid.

He waits for you to walk by before he says anything.

“Hey, I’m —I’m almost done with that book,” he says, holding it up.

He swears to god that his heart melts when your entire mood shifts. You’re excited, and your smile is contagious and god, he made you smile like that? Can he keep doing that?

“I haven’t had a chance to read it in a week or so,” you explain, but you hold up a finger. “Give me a sec, I’ll be right back.”

And you are right back. Book in hand and a bag of chips. And you don’t even hesitate to take up the empty space next to him, opening to the last page you left on. Bob almost cries when he sees he’s only a chapter behind you.

“Catch up, and we can talk about it.” You offer, settling into the chaise —though you’re careful not to touch him. He appreciates that you don’t mind he’s a little alarmed by touch but he’s too happy to care. He settles in close to you, shoulder brushing yours gently.

The two of you are too absorbed in your book to notice that members of the team keep dropping things off on the shelf.

Yelena brings a bag of M&Ms. Ava two cups of tea. Bucky doesn’t leave anything, but he watches with a soft grin. They ban Alexei from bugging you two, but he leaves a pizza for actual dinner. And John is about to leave condoms —mostly as a joke —but Bucky smacks him upside the head. Then the arguing starts.

That’s what brings you two to attention for the first time in a few hours.

Bob wouldn’t trade it for the world though.

[avaredava]

Hey!!! So I was wondering if you’d be down to write Megumi smut for valentines or one of those posts with multiple characters (please include my man I would literally beg 🙏🙏🙏🙏) of doing lovey dovey things before absolutely DESTROYING y/n’s insides once the clock hits freak o clock

PUH-LEASE and thank you! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷 LOVE YOUR WRITING POOKS 🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥

MERCI my love, I shall gift you your request 😖

୨୧・・・・୨୧

MDNI

Master list's

Not proof read

⯌ Sum

Megumi on valentines day (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

⯌ Wc

1.1k

⯌Warnings

Oral (m! receiving), mating press, really sweet megumi, kinda a sappy one, Light Dom/Sub dynamics, Mentions of bodily fluids, cream pies, rough sex, some people might have heard it (thin walls), moaning + whimpering, intense thrusting, raw sex (wrap before you tap ya'll), sensitivity, cleaning up, cuddling, head massages, little bit of a breeding kink, Size Kink

୨୧・・・・୨୧

Megumi has never been romantic. But when he saw you pouting scrolling on Instagram looking at couples and flowers and shit like that. For some reason that made something light within him.

It made him slightly jealous, you looking at other men maybe wishing it was him. Yeah fuck, he has to change that. He quickly goes to the mall hoping Nobara wouldn't see him that would be fucking embarrassing.

He ran into a flower shop with a black hoodie on with the hood up and hands in pockets trying to get this over with. But then he saw the most gorgeous lively roses ever.

They were perfect just like you.

But they weren't special. So he went to a dollar store and grabbed some art supplies. He realized how down he is for a girl but then again, you aren't just some girl.

That's how he ended up sitting at his desk in his dorm with his tongue poking out more concentrated then ever making some flowers that you can always keep and they will never die and they are made by him.

Gojo walks in and he jumps out of concentration and burns himself with the hot glue gun. And he hissed and glared at Gojo. "I'm a little busy here."

"Aw, are you making stuff for your little girlfriend? You both are the cutest sorcerers! My little babies are getting so much older!" He wiped his dry cheeks like he was crying. God this man was annoying.

"Take her to the fancy Italian place she loves it! And take this." Gojo gives his black card to him and skips off. He rolls his eyes but he does remember you talking about that place.

_

He finished the flowers with different coloured and shaped paper made flowers, and pipe cleaners as stems. He tied them together with some pink string making a bow with the flowers in between.

He walks to your dorm and opens the door to sleeping on the ground. He lets out a smile and a huff. He shakes you awake with a kiss and kisses your forehead.

You wake up and get up and take the flowers. "Aw 'Gumi..." You kiss his face and he scowls. His heart was fluttering his cheeks with a pink haze, he did actually really like it so he didn't pull away.

"Okay that's enough." He mumbles with a grumpy look on his face but he kisses your head anyway.

"I love them they must've took so long..." He gently smiles and nods. "Why wouldn't I?" You smile then you like out a small gasp of excitement.

You grab a white hoodie with red lipstick kisses in sections on it and give it to him. "I love it baby." He does that small smile of his that makes your heart flutter.

He takes off his original sweater he had on without a shirt under showing his abs. You stop him from putting the new sweater on. You brush across his happy tail pulling at his sweats dropping to your knees.

His cheeks go that pretty red as you take his pale pinkish cock out. You kiss the tip and his hips jolt. He lets out a breathy moan that makes your thighs clench.

You both of your dorms are on either side of Yuji's and one bad thing is that Yuji is in it right now. You grab his thigh trying to make him more quiet. But god you love his noises.

You bob your head along his cock, he falls against the bed behind him laying flat with his eyes fully shut with you still sucking.

He's letting out harsh pants trying to get quieter but it just made the tension hotter. Him sexier. You sucked harder like trying to make the most purple hickey making him let out the sweetest moan and cum.

"Fuck- I love you, felt so good." He babbled. It felt good that he was in the position you're usually in. You crawl up beside him and tuck his sweaty head in your stomach caressing his hair.

His eyes are heavy, and of course they shut instantly after him falling asleep. His face is gentle and not scrunched up like normal. It's calm and cute.

You realized he was kinda loud and you chuckled softly. You know Yuji's gonna be a pain later. He's not the kinda neighbour that complains when it's loud sex. More make fun.

He eventually waked him and snuggled closer, completely oblivious to the fact he's being fucking adorable and not tough and stubborn.

_

After getting him cleaned up you both went to that Italian place with Gojo's card of course.

The whole time you both were eating he thought about how you made him seem pathetic and how he is gonna get you fucking bad.

Ruin every single part of you till everyone around the dorms knows you're getting dicked down.

That's how you ended up with your legs on his shoulders with your knees pushing against your tits and your hands rubbing his back. You would never scratch at his back his skin's too sensitive.

You love him too much for that.

But your hands on his skin is enough to getting him thrusting fast. His hips snapping at a frightening, fast pace. He pushes you into a tighter mating press his tip massaging your sweet spots making you whimper so sweetly for him.

His breath is hot against your neck as he pants making you holler more and tighten around his dick. "F-Fuck your tight!" He gasps into your ear.

Your throat is raw from moaning and screaming. Now you're just letting out little gasps and whining. "You're so deep." You muster up to say in a quiet voice.

Since Megumi's hitting it raw and of course he has manners he mumbles. "Let me cum inside please Y/N." With that tone how could you say no? You nod.

He cums inside warming your walls you squeeze around his cock cumming with him for the nth time tonight. But his dick was getting to sensitive and your joints were starting to hurt so he pulled out.

Cum drizzles out of your hole making him massage your thighs feeling slightly bad for wearing you out. But then again that was the objective.

He kissed your forehead while wiping your pussy with a warm cloth making sure you're clean. He pulled the blankets up holding you close. He massages your head whispering,

"Happy valentines day."

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Fifteen

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: OKKKKKAY I'M SORRY THIS IS 7 MONTHS LATE ALRIGHT. i got into a relationship, got promoted at work, and now have ANOTHER promotion around the bend. i am tired, i am busy, but i still got this done because i can't stop thinking about roy kent. love yall

Word count: 6k+

Chapter Fifteen

Roy was right– you had absolutely fractured the shit out of your hand. The few days after the incident, despite the pain, you found yourself not giving a fuck. You hadn’t done it for any other reason than one that was good and needed. 

Your feelings about Nate had settled to an erroneous buzz. One that was constantly there, but that you’d rather not think about. Roy, Rebecca and Keeley still didn’t know, and you were determined to still keep it that way for the teams’ sake. 

You were still on cloud nine, so to speak. Even the most boring and futile days at Pluto Press were made better by the constant reminder of your behaviour at Wembley. The wrist brace that Roy had forced you to wear was growing on you. You thought of it fondly. 

On your way back from work one dark Thursday, Rebecca’s name popped up on your phone screen. You picked up her call with a skip in your step, only a few minutes from the tube station. “Well hello, Ms. Welton.”

“Hello, darling,” she said, but something sounded off. 

You stopped walking immediately. “Are you okay?” you asked, concerned. 

She sniffed on the other end of the line. “Yes. Well– no. But still yes, sort of.”

“Where are you?” 

“At home, darling. I’m fine, I’m fine. I’ve just received some pretty subpar news.” You waited for her to catch her breath. “My father died.”

You shut your eyes and froze in place. “Oh, Rebecca. I’m so, so, sorry.”

“My mother’s here, she’s staying for a few days. Just until we sort out his funeral, and other bits and bobs, and whatever fucking else.”

“Okay.” You listened intently. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rebecca breathed out. “Only you would be so quick to offer a helping hand. No, no, it’s all fine. Though, perhaps, you could tell Roy and Ted. I suspect I’m going to be quite busy the next few days.”

“Of course, of course– anything. I’ll let them know, don’t worry.”

“Okay, love.” Rebecca let out a huff. “God– it’s odd. It’s a very odd feeling.”

“I’m always here if you need to talk, or stuff our faces with garlic bread, or get ridiculously drunk on fine white wine, you know.”

Rebecca chuckled. “I know that. Thank you, darling.”

“Send your mum my love.”

“I will, I will. I best be off. I’ll see you soon, okay, darling?”

“See you soon, Rebecca.”

You walked straight to Roy’s house when you got off the tube at Richmond, unable to stop thinking about Rebecca and her mother. You’d never lost a parent, nor a sibling, but you’d lost others. You couldn’t imagine what it felt like to lose someone so immediate, even despite knowing that Rebecca’s connection to her father hadn’t always been incredibly strong. 

You rounded the corner and onto Roy’s lavish street, knowing the way even if you weren’t looking where you were going. A right at your front door, all the way down your terraced street, and then a hard right, past the two pillars that graced the entrance of the road to the huge fuck-off houses in the rich part of your neighbourhood.

The lights were dim inside Roy’s house, but you knew he’d be in. You knocked on his great oak door the same way you’d done a thousand times before.

Roy was barefoot when he opened the door, and his once emotionless face erupted into a surprised smile when his eyes met your own.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said.

“Fancy seeing you here, too.” 

“In my own house?” Roy perked a brow at you playfully.

“Let’s not dabble on specifics.” You smiled. “Are you gonna let me in or what?” 

Roy moved out of the way enough for you to sneak past him and into his porch. You took off your shoes and dropped your bag to the floor comfortably, knowing you didn’t have to be anyone but yourself in his home.

Roy shut the door behind you. “Want a beer?”

“Please,” you breathed out.

You followed him to the kitchen, but took a left and settled at his dining table as he opened the fridge.

“Long day?” he asked, shutting the fridge before he popped the tops off two beer bottles.

You sighed deeply. “Kind of, but I’m actually playing messenger for Rebecca.” 

“Oh?” Roy slid a bottle your way and took the end chair at the table, so he could sit closer to you. 

You tapped the bottle sadly. “Her father passed away. She called me about an hour ago.” 

Roy leaned back in his chair, a pained expression donned on his face. “Fuck.”

“Yeah— fuck.”

“Shit.”

“Shit,” you repeated.

“Piss.” 

“If you’re going to reel through every profane word in the dictionary we’ll need more beers than this.” 

Roy shrugged. “I just don’t know what to say,” he admitted.

“Yeah, I feel you there.” The swig of beer you took after talking felt incredibly needed. It settled in your stomach warmly. Your shoulders relaxed. You leaned back in your chair, mimicking Roy.

“She said she’ll be busy the next few days with planning his funeral. Oh— and would you mind telling Ted and the guys? She asked me to, but I don’t know the next time I’ll make it to Nelson Road.”

Roy nodded. “Of course, no problem,” he said gently, lowly.

“Thanks.” As you spoke, you leaned forward and laid your head on the table, letting out a great sigh. “I guess that’s the end of my chipper streak.”

“Still riding high after that suckerpunch to Jamie’s dad’s fuck ugly face?” Roy joked. 

You lifted your braced wrist towards him, not looking at his expression. “Absolutely.” 

“Here.” Roy tucked his chair in abruptly, and before you could move, his fingers gently wrapped around your hand. 

You looked up at him then, as he handled you with such care. He pulled the velcro from the brace and let it fall, exposing your bare wrist. Gently, he twisted your hand so your palm faced upwards. His fingers prodded the swollen skin of your wrist delicately, and never to the point of pain. 

“It looks a lot better,” he said lowly. 

“You forcing me to wear that thing actually paid off, as much as that hurts me to admit.” You laughed to yourself a little, and a smile broke out on Roy’s face. 

“I’ll take that as a fucking compliment.” 

“You should,” you said smally. You caught his eye swiftly, your stare lingering on his own. You fell headfirst into this indulgence. “You were so quick to take care of me, you know.” 

“I could tell you’d never thrown a fucking punch in your life, that’s why,” he said, fingers still on your skin. Slowly, as if tempting fate, he slid his hand into your own. “No good being a writer if you can’t hold a fucking pen.” 

You chuckled lightly. “Well, I’m glad you were so proactive. If I lost my hand, then what use would I be?”

“Exactly my thoughts. I was only thinking of your future career as a novelist.” 

“Of course, you were,” you agreed sarcastically. 

“That was all it was about, nothing else.” Roy wrapped his fingers around your hand, so he was holding you warmly. Like two lovers on a date at the cinema, or hand in hand walking down the street—

Or sat opposite one another at a dining table, not knowing what other moves to make. 

You exhaled deeply, comfortably. “Nothing else,” you repeated. 

“Nothing whatsoever.” Roy squeezed your hand affectionately. 

If the two of you weren’t already a walking cliché of miscommunication, stolen glances and unimaginable angst, then you mentally added this unspoken thing between you to the list. You couldn’t kid yourself though; you knew that yourself and Roy hit every trope in the fucking book.

Roy leaned closer to you across the table. Not too much, but enough to make your eyes focus on him unwaveringly. Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach and disturbed the butterflies that slept there. Like a living rainforest, your insides ignited with feeling as the butterflies rose from their slumber and wreaked havoc on your guts.

“Do you think…” Roy began, speaking in the softest tone that he possibly could. “Do you think we’ll ever talk about the ‘nothing else’ between us?” 

Gently, Roy’s thumb started circling your palm. You froze in place, not knowing how to compute his words while your entire body focused on his touch. 

This had been coming for a while, had it not? You and him, him and you. The relentless back and forth played in your mind in an instant. What you’d started as, what you’d almost become, what you thought you’d lost at one point, until Roy had let everything out in his Jeep after you’d trusted him with your problems. 

Unwillingly, your thoughts also traversed the time that he’d been a ghost. After his retirement, when he’d refused to face the world and everyone who cared about him— you— for multiple months.

You knew he was trying to change his ways, could see how he’d started growing for the better— but was it enough for you to know that all would be well if things ever soured, if this ‘nothing else’ between you ended up as a simple friendship?

“We’re doing so well,” you let out involuntarily, hating the way your voice shook as you spoke. That wasn’t how you’d wanted to sound. You wanted to sound confident and controlled, not like an imminent mess.

“We are,” Roy burst, smiling. “We really are.” 

“I don’t want this— us— to stop.” 

“Me neither. Not ever.” 

You squeezed Roy’s hand back, trying to communicate in the best way you could when words were failing you. You weren’t made for this; you were made for letter writing, and acts of service, and nothing that required you to dispel your feelings so openly and to someone’s face. 

God, you wanted him. You really did. Your thoughts betrayed you every time you got scared of something more. But this, right here— he was literally in the palm of your hand.

So why couldn’t you just fall?

“Roy—,”

You were ripped from the present by the abrupt ringing of your mobile phone. You closed your eyes instantly and wished for the shrill ringing to stop, but Roy had already ripped his hand from yours before you could say a word.

“You should get that,” Roy said bluntly.

Quickly, disgruntled, you grabbed the phone from your pocket and read the name on the screen. Your fucking boss. Jesus fucking Christ, what awful timing.

“I— I’m sorry,” you stuttered and rose from your seat, answering the call.

Roy sat back in his chair and placed his hands in his lap. He watched as you paced his living room, only hearing your side of the conversation. Lots of yeses, and okay’s fell from your mouth. A minute in, you clamped your eyes shut and squeezed the bridge of your nose with your fingers callously. It was plain to see how much you hated it— your job, your world.

Innately, Roy desperately wanted to stand up and grab the phone from your hand. He wanted to yell at whoever was on the other line to fuck off before hanging it up on your behalf. 

“Yeah, okay. Alright, bye.” You hung up the phone then, holding it in your hand with shaking fingers.

You stood in Roy’s living room with your back turned to him at the dining table, absolutely fucking fuming. 

“That was work,” you said. “Apparently I forgot to finish an important lead off for tomorrow, even though I never got the email. Must have slipped through the cracks.” You placed your hands on your hips and turned back to Roy, sending him the most apologetic stare you were capable of.

Roy’s face was sour. He wasn’t practised in changing his expression for the sake of others. You knew he was pissed off.

“I don’t know why you stay,” he said lowly.

“Money. Life. Living the dream. All that jazz.” You plodded back to the table and sat down again. You picked up your beer and held it in your hands, just so you had something to fiddle with.

“Nah, that’s fucking bullshit.” He took a swig of beer, not daring to hide his opinion. “This isn’t living the dream, this isn’t your dream in the fucking slightest.” 

“Yeah well, it’s all I’ve got right now,” you said shortly.

“Not if you let anyone give you a crumb of fucking help,” he snapped. “Do you know how much all of us worry about you? That job is a fucking cesspit of incels who’ve never worked a day in their lives, who give you all their fucking dirty work to do—,”

“Not all of us were blessed with finding their dream fucking career, Roy.” You sent him a red stare. “Some of us have to work for what we want.”

“Oh, and you think that’s what you want? Those fucking yaps at Pluto Press sucking you dry for all you’re worth?” 

“It’s the only thing I have right now! So, what the hell do you expect me to do about it?”

“Give yourself a fucking chance!” He exploded. “Rebecca says you won’t let her get you a job.” 

You slammed your beer on the table and crossed your arms defensively. “I won’t be a pity piece, Roy. I’d rather fucking move back home than let her give me a job on a silver fucking platter—,”

“You earned that right! You worked with us for a year and never let us forget you! You’re not a fucking pity piece—,”

“You’re an ex-professional footballer, Roy! You don’t fucking understand what real life is like!” 

With every fired sentence, the two of you got closer to the other across the table. Fingers were being pointed. Faces were turning red. Heat was passed between the two of you, but not the kind that warmed you gently— it was the kind you never wanted to face Roy with.

“What, you think I didn’t work to get where I am?” He bit.

“Of course, I don’t think that! I know you work hard, Roy, but that coaching position was fucking waiting for you as soon as you realised you wanted it. I don’t get the fucking luxury—,”

“Bollocks to that shit! You’ve been dying to be back at the Dogtrack since you fucking left, and me, and Ted, and Rebecca have been waiting for you to accept any fucking offer we put out—!”

“But I didn’t work for that!” you screamed. “I didn’t work for that, Roy. Keeley does what I used to do, and she’s amazing at it. Rebecca will create a position purely for me to be back, but that’s not what I need or want. I don’t want favours, I want to earn it like the rest of you earned the right to be there. I want to write my book, and be around you all, and not take things for granted— so no, I won’t take favours. That’s not the kind of person I am, and I never fucking will be. I’ll pay my dues the same way you all have, and you’ll all be fucking happy for me when I finally finish things rightly.”

Roy downed the rest of his beer immediately, and almost smashed the bottle as he slammed it back on the table. “Well, I’ll be fucking happy for you as soon as you get your head out of your fucking arse and accept help from your friends.”

“God!” you yelled, then quickly mimicked Roy in downing your drink and dropping the bottle back on the table. You stood abruptly. “Well, I’ll be waiting for you guys as soon as you realise my fucking side of things!” 

“Fine!” Roy stood quickly. 

“Good!” you yelled, then headed for the door. 

“Fucking fine!” Roy was on your tail as you made your way towards your things. You shoved on your shoes clumsily and grabbed your bag, swinging it around your shoulder swiftly.

“Fucking good!” You pulled the latch on his door and left as fast as you could.

“Give me a call when you figure out how much all of us want you to succeed in life!”

You contorted yourself as you fired back at him. “I will!”

“Good!”

“Fine!” 

Roy slammed his door as you fast walked home, seething. You’d never got this angry around him, nor he at you, but you wouldn’t falter. Roy wouldn’t ever understand the position you were in.

Roy put his head in his hands as soon as he shut the door. You didn’t understand what it was like for him and every other person who cared for you to see you so tired, so runned down, so burnt out. 

You spent the evening pretending the visit to Roy’s had never existed. Sure, you thought about it. You thought of the way he looked at you, and held you, and touched your bare skin. You thought of the words he’d said directly to your face, not faltering for a second. You didn’t even know what ‘nothing else’ meant anymore. 

The next morning, a disgruntling newspaper was posted through your letterbox. The headline: Ted Lasso suffers panic attack at important match. You remembered that day, that game, the one before Wembley; the one where Ted had been seen trotting off the field from what everyone believed to be an upset stomach. The truth had come out in the worst of ways. You scowled as you immediately deposited the paper in the bin before you left for work.

There was no word from Roy, no texts, no calls: no apology. You pretended like nothing had ever happened the previous night as you hopped on the tube to central London. 

The weekend after, you donned a black dress and matching kitten heels. You wore no make-up, not because you didn’t want to look good, because you knew it would be futile upon seeing Rebecca and her mother’s faces. The church was in Richmond. The service was in an hour. You’d assumed that Roy had held true to his word and passed on the news of her father’s passing. You knew they’d all be attending, even the team. 

When you approached the church on that overcast day in June, you found yourself holding your breath. This was a new realm for you. Not the funeral itself, but being a support system for someone else in this circumstance. Rebecca needed her friends and family around her more now than ever. It made you flashback ages ago– to the night of the charity ball.

You’d turned to Rebecca in the bathroom and spoken your mind about Rupert. You weren’t even friends back then; it was odd to put the pieces together of that time. The timid lunches, the feeling of being dirt in the corner that she’d like nothing more than to feather-duster away. Things had changed drastically after the Everton game, and you had never pinpointed why.

Not that you were complaining. You relied on her, on Keeley, on…

Roy’s face flashed at the forefront of your mind. Your heart hurt for him, but your head thought of a few nasty words you wanted to call him to his face. 

Rebecca had once ignited those same words in you, way back at the beginning.

Now, here she was– standing outside the church beside her mother, greeting people with the same confident and strong smile that she’d always been capable of donning in dire situations. Your good friend who had done so much for you, and continued to do so. 

Your heart swelled as you approached them, joining the small queue of people who waited to say hello and express their condolences. 

When an elderly couple finished and pootled inside, she finally met your eye. Her hard exterior began to crumble in an instant. Before she could say a word, you wrapped your arms around her strongly. She smelled like expensive shampoo and Chanel No.5. 

“Darling,” she whispered. 

“Rebecca.” You squeezed her tightly once, before pulling away. A few crystalline tears pooled in her eyes. 

“Thank you for being here,” she said, then cleared her throat. 

“Always.” You smiled at her strongly. 

“Is this who I think it is?” Rebecca’s mother chimned in. When you looked at her, you could see the resemblance immediately. Her stance, her fashion, even the way her hair was styled. This was Rebecca Welton’s mother through and through. She was shorter than her daughter, but that was no challenge to most people; even when wearing stilettos. 

“Mother, this is–”

She stuck her hand out and grabbed your own quickly, leaning towards you. “You’re the gem of the Dogtrack, aren’t you? The one that left for bigger and brighter things after stealing their hearts.” 

“W-well,” you stuttered. “I don’t know about that.”

“Stop being modest, darling.” Rebecca smiled amusedly. “Those weren’t my exact words, but they sure are close to what I told my mother of you.” 

“How’s your book coming along?” Her mother smiled knowingly.

“I told her a lot, though,” Rebecca added, enjoying the awkward redness of your cheeks. 

“It’s lovely to finally meet you.” You finally composed yourself enough to speak full sentences. You shook her mother’s hand warmly before she eventually tugged away. “Despite the circumstances, of course.”

Rebecca’s mother smiled at you smally. “Quite. And yes, thank you for being here.”

Timidly, you glanced round the entrance of the church. There were people brimming indoors, and a few getting out of cars or walking through the gates at the front. You wondered where the team was, where Keeley was, where Ted and Beard and Nate were. In that instant, you couldn’t wait to see them all. 

You hadn’t spoken to Roy since your argument. 

“He’s coming,” Rebecca’s mother said suddenly, as if she’d read your damn mind. You turned back to her, at a loss for words. 

“Who?” you asked as your heart pelted against your chest.

Her mother perked her eyebrows accordingly. “Your footballer.”

Abruptly, you scoffed. “He’s not mine.” You tried to shake off her words, knowing that Rebecca would have got into her head about something or other. Her eyes scraped over your face, all while you tried not to meet her gaze. 

Your face softened when her eyes looked beyond you, to the front of the churchyard. “Are you sure about that?” she asked mysteriously, nodding quickly to a point behind you.

You turned around gently.

The AFC Richmond team bus came to a slow stop outside the gates of the churchyard. One by one, your boys disembarked. They were dressed in their Sunday best; you’d never seen half of them wear more than jeans and track pants.

You met Sam’s eye first, and his soft features graced you with a much needed smile. Behind him, Jamie helped Dani down from the coach steps, and beyond them Isaac donned an expensive pair of sunglasses and gorgeous suit— the kind only a professional footballer could afford for a funeral. 

Your heart swelled as they approached. Behind you, you sensed that Rebecca felt the exact same as you. 

They were dazzling, it had to be said. Seeing a football team congregate at any event besides a match itself was an experience, but seeing them all here to support the owner of their team was better than you could imagine.

Sam was the first to reach Rebecca, encasing her in a hug that felt intimate and genuine. The others followed, but you were distracted as they all lined up by the front of the church— Keeley had joined the team still disembarking by the coach, Beard and Nate next to her, and the fourth member of their rabble was the one that made your fingers twitch. 

Roy donned a black suit. Nothing extravagant, but simple and clean. He’d trimmed his hair and beard. He looked good, and it made your insides twist.

Quickly, as Rebecca pulled away from greeting Dani, you muttered about going inside. Before Roy could even spot you, you headed inside the church to avoid the incoming awkwardness that you knew would come as soon as you said hello to him. 

You’d never considered yourself an avoidant. Hell, you’d chased Roy down the street last year after months of him ignoring you. You’d always confronted him when he wasn’t kind in your first few months at Richmond. You’d always been the first to apologise, or mend your relationship, or fix what he’d unintentionally broken. This time, you thought, you didn’t want to do it. It was his turn to approach you and break the ice, address the obvious, attempt to fix what your argument had caused.

It was quiet inside. The vast church walls and arched ceiling made every whisper reverberate back into the room. An organ played a sombre tune. You stood at the back of the room and waited. 

You didn’t see Roy in the service, but you knew he was there. Rebecca recited Rick Astley, and the entire church joined in. The only break in play had come from a stray Ted arriving in the middle of the service. It was uneventful, besides the constant pitter patter of your heart beneath your ribs.

Back at Rebecca’s mother’s house you stayed with the boys. Colin caught you up on all of their recent games. Isaac kept his sunglasses on inside. Sam was nowhere to be seen for half of the wake. 

Everything felt strange, like you were waiting with bated breath that you didn’t even properly have. The unusualness of being reunited with the team was lost due to the occasion, but you knew that was for the best. This day wasn’t for you— it was for Rebecca and her mother. 

As you got yourself a refill of wine, a gentle hand deposited itself on your shoulder. “What’s up, writer?” Ted’s Kansas accent warmed you instantly.

You hugged him immediately, settling into his arms as if you’d been tensed for a number of hours. Perhaps you had been. “Coach,” you addressed him, standing back from the embrace. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” He smiled, and you couldn’t help but be reminded of the headlines about him a week prior. You grimaced without meaning to. “Oh, well that’s not a good face, is it?”

“Who the fuck sold that story about you? I swear, I’ll find them and make them regret it—,” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold your damn horses.” Ted chuckled lightly, placing his hands on your shoulders. Your sudden defensive stance was dissipated by his touch. 

“Seriously, Ted. That’s private, and not fair in the slightest. I’m sorry they wrote about you like that.”

Ted shrugged. “It’s not like it was a lie made up by the tabloids. It’s alright.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “It’s still shitty.” 

“Sure it is.” Ted reasoned with you. “Swings and roundabouts, writer. I don’t care what they write about me. I’m just not fond of what it does to the team as a consequence.” 

Your face softened. “Colin tells me your games are going well.”

“We’re almost top of the table, baby.” His smile was dazzling. “And that’s all I care about. Not some snooty paper trying to weed us out.”

In your peripheral vision, you felt the familiar stare of someone. Nate held a beer in his hand and faced you full frontally. You didn’t pay any more attention to him to see the state of his expression— he didn’t deserve knowing that you thought about him.

It took less than a second to realise that it was him that sold the story to the Sun. Of course he fucking had. You could’ve confidently bet money on him being the snake that exposed Ted’s private information. 

You refocused fully on Ted, smiling sullenly as you settled in place before him. 

You made light conversation with most of the team that afternoon, simply checking in and glad that you had some time to catch up on the current standings. Winding through the corridors of the vast house, you couldn’t help but ponder if Roy would be around another corner. Every room you entered you mentally prepared yourself to face him, but you never found yourself face to face with him as the minutes turned to hours. 

At one point you found yourself with no one to chat with. In the grand living room, Keeley and Jamie muttered in the corner. On the other side, Ted and Beard chatted with plates covered in single serving sausage rolls. 

You exited the room and headed for the stairs. Quietly, you ascended. Perhaps you wanted to explore the house, or see Rebecca’s childhood bedroom, or get some air away from the subtle hubbub of the various downstairs rooms.

You found her room quickly, noticing the pink bedspread and posters on the walls from the nineties. What you weren’t expecting was the life size cut out of Roy Kent surveying her trinkets. You stalled quickly, enough to make the floorboards creak beneath you. Before you could leave the room, Roy turned to you. Spotted– at last.

“I didn’t realise anyone would be in here,” you said, innately cursing yourself for speaking first.

“I came up here to get away from everyone for a moment,” Roy replied. 

You nodded awkwardly. “I’ll leave you to it–”

“No.” Roy stepped forward once, and that was all. “Stay.” You stayed frozen to your spot. “This room is fucking big enough for the two of us.”

He was right. As far as teenage rooms go, Rebecca had a good one. With large bay windows that sprawled out with a view of the back garden. It was light, it was airy, and you could only feel the subtle jealousy of wanting a space like this when you were ten years younger. 

You surveyed the walls and took it all in. “This is a nice room.”

“A nice gaff, more like. This place is a fucking mansion.”

“Rebecca’s always been well off,” you said, stepping trepidatiously further into the space. You gravitated towards her bed, until you finally sank onto her mattress. It was soft; memory foam. “It doesn’t surprise me that this was her family home.”

Roy shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at the floor. There was tension in the air, to say the least. It was apparent that both of you felt out of place, still reeling from your argument the week before, and the lack of closure from it. This was the longest you’d gone in months without actually talking to Roy– not small talk about houses or bed-rooms or the like, but actually talking. 

You stuck to your promise of not making the first move, but you opened up the conversation while you still had the nerve. “I guess you saw the paper. About Ted.”

Roy growled gently. “Yeah, I did.” He strolled forward slowly, approaching you on the bed. “I was there, y’know, when he told us coaches about his panic attacks. I don’t want to believe that it was one of us who shared his fucking secrets…”

“But?” you let out before you could stop yourself. 

You caught Roy’s eyes, and they twinkled with something unspoken. Did he know about Nate? Did he know how much of a manipulator he’d been to you? 

Roy only shrugged, before he finally deposited himself next to you. As much as you felt you deserved an apology still, you were thankful for his proximity to you. “Fucking but. I don’t know who spread that shit around.”

You kept your thoughts to yourself. “Ted seems okay despite it.”

Roy huffed with subtle amusement. “You know Ted and his happy-go-lucky American bullshit. If he was even torn up about it, he wouldn’t fucking tell anyone, especially not anyone from the team.”

“Hmm,” you hummed with concern. You tapped your fingers on your thigh anxiously. “Can you please keep an eye on him,” you said, finally looking into Roy’s eyes properly. “I worry about him. Just keep an eye on him for me, okay?”

Roy’s face softened. His eyes danced over your face for the first time in over a week. “Okay.” He waited for a beat. “For you, I will.”

You looked away first, trying not to blush violently, and suddenly enamored with an overloaded cork board above Rebecca’s bed. Beside you, Roy scooted closer. “Hey,” he said softly. 

You kept your gaze glued on the opposite wall to him. “Hm?”

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. You sucked in a deep breath, sinking further into the memory foam. “I shouldn’t have said all that fucking shit. I was angry, and you didn’t deserve me screaming down your throat about a job that you can’t control.”

Turning towards him, a smile settled on your face before you’d even said a word. “I know you only want the best for me– all of you–  and that’s… that’s…”

“It’s a hard pill to swallow sometimes, I get it.” 

“I don’t like fighting with you, you know,” you said. 

Roy chuffed immediately. “I’m in the same fucking boat with you there, sweetheart.” You chuckled abruptly at the return of his honesty. This was normal; this was what you and Roy had created from the moment you’d first become friends. 

“I would’ve apologised sooner,” Roy started. “I just didn’t want to do it over fucking text, or a phone call. It didn’t seem like enough.”

“You’ve been busy, too.”

“Hey– so have you. With that shit job you still have.”

“Are we going to start arguing again, Roy?” you asked jokingly. 

“Nah,” he said, a smile plastered on his usually stoic face. “You already know how I feel about it all.”

“I do.” You nodded.

“And you already know that I’m here if you ever sack it all off.”

“I do.” You nodded again.

“Well.” Roy reached out for your hand instantly. His fingers wrapped around you warmly. “Give me a call if that day ever fucking comes.” You huffed with a mixture of amusement and warmth. “And every day it doesn’t, as well.” 

When you looked at him then, you had to fight against crumbling completely. Roy Kent really was something. And you’d spent the better half of two years trying to figure out what that something was. As much as he was reactionary, he also took accountability. As much as he’d made you feel sad sometimes, you could outweigh that with the amount he’d made you feel the complete opposite. He was part of what had kept you in Richmond for all this time, even despite Pluto Press, even despite the shit situation that had placed you there in the first place– he kept you here. 

“And I’ll be there to answer.” You meant it. “Every single time.”

“Good,” Roy said softly.

You chuckled to yourself. “Good.” 

As the two of you rejoined the wake downstairs. Roy grabbed you a beer without you even asking, and you couldn’t help but notice the line between your unspoken thing getting thinner and thinner. 

After the wake, Keeley organised a girls night at hers. You couldn’t remember the last time she’d had you and Rebecca over to the house. Her home was lovely; a real architects dream; with floor to ceiling windows everywhere and an abundance of skylights that lit her home with natural light, even during the winter months.

You made yourself comfortable on her plush sofa, glass of wine in hand, as the three of you caught up properly for the first time in well over a month. 

“It was odd, seeing my mum in that kind of environment. Especially when it was all about my dad,” Rebecca said, taking a sip of wine with a fluffy pillow snuggly on her lap.

“Funerals make me feel weird,” Keeley said. “Like, when I die, I think I want to be buried underneath a young apple tree. And that way, my decomposition will help fertilise the tree above me, and then everyone can eat the apples from my branches.”

You refrained from grimacing involuntarily. It was a nice sentiment, but the thought of biting into an apple from Keeley’s death tree made you feel a bit sick. 

Rebecca laid a hand on her leg from the other end of the sofa. “That’s lovely darling.” The look on her face showed she was lying. Keeley chose to ignore her. 

“Where even were you at the wake?” you asked Keeley. “I didn’t see you for practically the whole time we were there. I hung around with Ted, mostly.”

“I was with my mother, mostly. But you’re right–” Rebecca nodded at you. “I don’t recall seeing you around the house much.”

You clicked your fingers abruptly. “Oh– I did see you with Jamie at one point.”

You and Rebecca laid your gaze on Keeley. She was swiping her finger timidly around the rim of her wine glass, acting as if she wanted the plush sofa to engulf her whole. You’d never seen her so obviously wanting to disappear from a conversation.

“Keeley,” you said lowly. “What’s going on?”

Keeley shrugged smally. It reminded you of Roy.

“Darling,” Rebecca said, pushing her ever so slightly. 

“Yeah, I was with Jamie. Maybe.” Keeley finally caved. 

You leaned closer to her, bridging the gap in the Keeley sandwich you were in, of which you and Rebecca were the thick and soft slices of bread. When the two of you got close enough to touch her cheeks with your noses, Keeley exploded. 

“Alright!” she yelled, propelling herself up with the sofa. She rounded the coffee table until she stood, almost jumping on the spot, before the telly. “You two are the worst at minding your own fucking business!”

“Oh, please– you were practically omitting radiation with how much you wanted to spill this.” You said with amusement, repositioning yourself on the sofa to sit on your feet. 

“So, come on, darling. Spill it.” Rebecca copied you, hopping onto her ankles. 

Keeley let out an array of noises, that could only be described as utter gibberish, before she let it all out. “At the wake, Jamie told me he’s in love with me.”

In unison, you and Rebecca jumped up from the sofa. The fluffy, cream carpet beneath your feet felt the most of the brunt, as the red wine in your glass had already jumped ship straight to the floor. Your sock was drenched in Merlot, but you didn’t give a shit. 

“He said what?” Rebecca screamed.

“No fucking way!” you screeched. 

“I know!” Keeley responded, running in place to dispel her relentless nervous energy. “He just said it! Like it was the easiest thing in the fucking world to tell me!”

Rebecca placed her fingers on her chin, almost freezing in place. You, however, were still riding the same wave as Keeley. You jogged on the spot the same as her, not even thinking of the bigger picture, or the reasons why. Of course, Jamie Tartt was in love with Keeley Jones. Why the fuck wouldn’t he be?

Rebecca cleared her throat. “I’ve been having a secret affair with Sam Obisanya.” 

You practically performed a double take as your stare slotted towards Rebecca. Keeley stopped jogging, frozen to her spot at the telly behind you all started playing an advert for car insurance. 

“Rebecca Welton!” Keeley exclaimed.

You rushed towards Rebecca before you even realised what you were doing. “It was Bantr, wasn’t it?” you asked bluntly. 

“How did you know that?!” Rebecca’s shocked expression was golden.

You smiled slyly. “He tells me everything, you know?”

Instantly, Rebecca went red in the face. “I hope not everything.” 

When Keeley rushed forwards, you couldn’t help but innately regale at the scene before you. All your lives were so inherently intertwined. Everyone knew each other, everyone cared for each other, no one would let the other down. 

Sam had been periodically texting you updates about the woman he’d met through Bantr and the run-up to finally meeting her in person. After their dinner, he’d uncharacteristically gone silent about most of it. Bar the odd conversation when you’d begged to live vicariously through his love-life, the shift from on the app to in person was apparent.

It all made sense. 

It also made sense when you pieced everything together about hardly seeing him at the wake. Evidently, Rebecca and him had been tied at the hip in private. 

“I can’t believe you kept this from us!” Keeley yelled.

“I can,” you said, calming down slightly, but still feeling warm from this entire get-together. “He’s a player at AFC Richmond, the club that Rebecca owns. It sounds complicated.”

Rebecca let out a gentle breath. “It was.” She swallowed. “That’s why I broke it off with him.”

Keeley immediately calmed down. “Oh… Rebecca. I’m so sorry.”

You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I am, too. That must’ve been hard to do.”

Rebecca looked down-trodden for all of two seconds, before she inhaled deeply. As she did, her back straightened, her chin rose. She was a strong woman incarnate. “It was. But– it had to be done. Sam knew it, too.”

“I bet.” You smiled. 

“That doesn’t mean I don’t adore him. I think… I think we’ll both hold onto the past few months for a long time. But!” She exclaimed, flipping the narrative. “That’s not a bad thing. It was fun, Sam and I together. It was fun while it lasted, and I don’t resent it happening.”

“Way to go, Rebecca!” Keeley said, tone full of encouragement. 

Rebecca huffed with a smile on her face. As the moment ended, she finally turned to you. “So,” she said. 

You took a small step back, scoffing. “So?”

“So, what about you then, darling? It’s your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

Keeley turned to you now. You were cornered. They had you at every angle. 

“Your turn to spill it,” Keeley said. 

Innately, your lungs collapsed. But– you didn’t have anything you were hiding. You didn’t have news, you didn’t have a confession of love sitting in your lap from anyone, you didn’t have news of an elicit affair with someone from work, nothing. 

Though, when you allowed your thoughts to spiral, there was one thing that cropped up above all else.

Roy.

Roy. 

Stupid, stoic Roy, with his potty mouth that meant he was thousands in debt against Phoebe’s swear jar. Annoying, nagging Roy, who wouldn’t give it a rest with trying to interfere with things that you didn’t want fixed. 

Gorgeous, kind Roy, who you knew would catch you if you ever were to fall. 

God fucking dammit. 

Without thinking, the words burst from your mouth. 

“I’m in love with Roy Kent.”

[reveryfics]

what I have in mind for the request is: Having a first date with Bob! Where both Bob and the reader are nervous about it with maybe a kiss at the ending but that's up to you if you feel like it fits, where the date will happen I let up to you since you probably understands Bob's character better than I do and would know how to say that kind of thing better

Just some very fluffy stuff, I really like first dates since they could both be the ending of something short or the start of a long journey and I like Bob so haha

100 First Dates

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Male Reader

Summary: You were completely caught off guard when Bob Reynolds—of all people—asked you out. Both of you shared a mutual anxiety that made every first date a dreaded "next time," fearing it would inevitably end in disaster. Eventually, you both decided the best option was a movie in your room.

A/N: This is so cute, I absolutely love first date/first kiss scenarios (probably cause I'm a lonely bitch.) Also for future reference, my requests are always open it's just sometimes I take awhile to get to something.

TW: Fluff - Fist date - First kiss - Flirting - Adorable awkwardness

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, a stranger staring back. Your hair, usually meticulously styled, was a chaotic storm, each strand seemingly defying gravity in its own unique direction. The shadow of stubble, a testament to several days of neglect, darkened your jawline, adding to the disheveled appearance. A low, guttural groan escaped your lips, a sound born of pure, unadulterated dread. It was a safer alternative, you reasoned, to the more dramatic urge to simply slide to the floor and melt into a puddle, a futile wish to escape the tumultuous sea of nerves and anxiety bubbling within you.

Your hands, clammy and trembling, instinctively ran over the ridiculously soft, fluffy fabric of your Hello Kitty pajama pants. Yelena and Ava, in their infinite wisdom and questionable sense of humor, had gifted them to you as a joke, but they had become a strange comfort in moments of intense distress like this one. Your heart, a frantic drum against your ribs, hammered out a rhythm of panic.

The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on you. You, an assassin who had once killed politicians and others with less trepidation than you felt now, were completely flummoxed by the simple prospect of a date. And not just any date, but a date with Bob Reynolds. You still couldn't fathom why anyone, let alone him, would ask you out. His first impression on you, during a particularly high-stakes mission in the vault, had been, by his own admission (even if he hadn't meant it maliciously), that you were "emotionally detached." You had spent years, decades even, meticulously crafting an impenetrable shell, pouring every ounce of your being into becoming the perfect S.H.I.E.L.D. assassin, utterly devoid of any romantic inclination. And yet, here you were, willingly agreeing to a first date with Bob.

It wasn't for lack of trying, though. Every single attempt at a "first date" had been sabotaged by a mutual, almost comical, wave of anxiety and nerves. A coffee date? You'd had a sudden, crippling fear of large crowds. A walk in the park? Bob had developed an inexplicable, yet entirely convincing, phobia of pigeons. It felt like a hundred "first dates" that were destined to remain in perpetual limbo, each rain check ending with a hopeful, yet ultimately unfulfilled, promise of "next time."

The endless cycle of near-misses was driving you both utterly insane. You could feel the palpable frustration radiating from Bob, mirroring your own. You both clearly wanted something more, something beyond these aborted attempts, but your anxieties were a relentless, invisible barrier. So, earlier that day, a sudden spark of desperation mixed with determination had ignited within you. You had called Bob, cutting straight to the chase. "Forget the fancy stuff," you'd blurted out, "it doesn't even have to be called a date. Just... two guys. My bedroom. Takeout. Stupid movies."

Another sigh escaped you, this one a weary exhalation of accumulated tension. You finally pushed away from the mirror, your reflection mercifully receding. Turning on your heel, you headed back into your bedroom, a space that had undergone a significant, and sometimes questionable, transformation. You occasionally regretted allowing "the girls"—Yelena and Ava, of course���to make your room more "homey." By "homey," they had evidently meant transforming it into a vibrant explosion of pink, adorned with posters of various "hot guys." Still, you had to admit, it was a definite improvement over the sterile, soulless white box it had once been.

A soft, hesitant knock on the door jolted you from your introspection, followed by Bob's muffled, yet undeniably cheerful, voice. A small smile, genuine and unforced, touched your lips as you moved to open the door. There he stood, a paper bag in each hand, the delicious aroma of Chinese takeout wafting into the hallway. "Chinese," he whispered, a hint of a question in his voice, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I remember you said you like lo mein noodles."

You stepped aside, letting him in, the aroma of the takeout instantly filling the room, a comforting scent that momentarily eclipsed your nerves. "You remembered," you said, a genuine smile touching your lips as you took one of the bags from him. "Come in, make yourself at home."

Bob’s eyes, a warm hue that always seemed to hold a hint of amusement, swept across your now "homey" room. A faint blush crept onto your cheeks, anticipating his reaction to the explosion of pink and the assortment of boy band posters. He paused at a particularly flamboyant poster of a shirtless man playing a saxophone, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Wow," he chuckled, "Yelena and Ava certainly left their mark."

You led him over to your bed, which was currently covered in an array of blankets and pillows, creating a cozy nest. "They had a vision," you explained with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant as you began pulling out containers of food. "Apparently, a top-tier assassin's room needs more 'flair.'"

He set his bags down on the small desk, then carefully navigated the minefield of discarded clothes and various trinkets to sit cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the bed. "Well, it's definitely got flair," he said, his eyes still twinkling with amusement as he watched you. "Lo mein, right?"

"Absolutely," you confirmed, handing him a container of noodles and a pair of chopsticks. You grabbed your own, along with a container of sweet and sour chicken, and settled onto the bed, facing him. The initial awkwardness that had threatened to suffocate you slowly began to dissipate, replaced by a comfortable silence as you both started to eat.

The easy rhythm of shared food and the quiet hum of your anxiety slowly fading felt... nice. Different. You weren't on a mission, you weren't training, and you weren't trying to outwit a supervillain. You were just two guys, sitting on the bed, surrounded by fuzzy pillows, soft blankets, and eating noodles. It was a simplicity you hadn't realized you craved.

"So," Bob began, breaking the silence, his voice soft, "what stupid movie are we watching first?"

You grinned, a genuine, unforced smile. "Yelena, in her infinite wisdom, actually made me a list." You reached for a crumpled piece of paper on your bedside table, smoothing it out. "Let's see... we have Love, Actually Always, A Royal Christmas Kiss, When Harry Met Santa..." Your voice trailed off as you slowly stopped reading, your eyes lifting to meet Bob's. A blush crept up your neck.

He was trying to suppress a laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. "Are those... Hallmark movies?"

You sighed dramatically, though a smile tugged at your lips. "She insisted I needed to be 'educated' on the 'finer points of modern romance.' Apparently, my romantic education was severely lacking."

Bob let out a full, hearty laugh this time. "You know what? When Harry Met Santa sounds like exactly the kind of stupid movie we need right now."

You chuckled, a clear, bright sound that surprised even yourself. “Yeah, suppose it is.”

As Bob reached for another handful of noodles, you found your gaze drifting from his amused eyes down to his legs, finally noticing what he was wearing. Your eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He, too, was clad in fuzzy pajama pants. Not Hello Kitty, like yours, but a distinct pattern of Jack Skellington heads scattered across a dark background. The irony was almost too much. There was no doubt in your mind: these, too, were a gift from Yelena, probably Ava as well, a perfectly coordinated, subtle, and utterly obvious attempt at matchmaking.

A low, rumbling chuckle started in Bob’s chest, pulling your gaze back to his face. He met your eyes, a sheepish grin spreading across his features. "You know," he mumbled, almost to himself, though clearly loud enough for you to hear, "I think Yelena and Ava have officially decided to play wingman for us. After witnessing our, uh, 'hundred first date' fails, I guess they took matters into their own hands."

The implication hung in the air, a shared understanding of their subtle, yet relentless, meddling. It was a strange mix of embarrassment and a surprising sense of relief. You weren't the only one being subjected to their particular brand of romantic intervention. And somehow, knowing that made everything feel a little less daunting, a little more… natural. You found yourself smiling, a genuine, unforced curve of your lips. "Looks like it," you agreed, reaching for your own container of lo mein. "And I have to admit, it's a pretty effective strategy."

You clicked on When Harry Met Santa, and the opening credits rolled, a flurry of animated snowflakes and saccharine holiday music filling the room. You settled back against your pillows, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the takeout. Bob, still cross-legged on the floor, occasionally snorted with laughter at the movie's more outlandish moments, and you found yourself laughing along, a genuine, uninhibited sound.

At one point, the protagonist, a perpetually flustered woman named Holly, tripped over a rogue string of Christmas lights and landed squarely in the arms of a handsome, bearded man in a red suit. Bob let out a particularly loud guffaw, causing you to playfully nudge him with your foot. "Hey, easy there," you teased, "you'll wake the neighbors with that racket."

He just grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's just so bad," he said, still chuckling. "But in the best possible way."

As the movie played on, a comfortable silence settled between you. The anxiety that had been a constant companion all day had finally receded, replaced by a sense of calm you hadn't felt in a long time. You found yourself stealing glances at Bob, watching the way his brow furrowed in concentration during a dramatic scene, or how his lips twitched when a particularly cheesy line was delivered. He seemed so at ease, so comfortable in your chaotic, pink explosion of a room. It was a stark contrast to your own initial apprehension, and it made you feel a little lighter, a little more at ease yourself.

The final credits rolled, accompanied by a soaring, optimistic song about true love and holiday miracles. Bob stretched, a long, languid movement, and then pushed himself up from the floor, settling onto the bed beside you. The bed dipped slightly under his weight, and for a moment, you were acutely aware of how close you were, the subtle scent of his cologne mixing with the lingering aroma of Chinese food.

"So," he said, his voice soft, "what's next on Yelena's list of romantic masterpieces?"

You picked up the crumpled paper again, smoothing it out. "Let's see... A Royal Christmas Kiss. Sounds… equally terrible." You looked up at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Are you brave enough?"

He met your gaze, his own eyes alight with a warmth that made your stomach do a strange little flip. "Only if you are," he replied, his voice a low murmur.

You found yourself smiling again, a genuine, unforced smile that reached your eyes. This wasn't a mission. There were no hidden agendas, no threats, no lives on the line. It was just you and Bob, in your ridiculously pink room, surrounded by fuzzy blankets, and a stack of cheesy romantic comedies. And for the first time in a long time, that felt like exactly where you were supposed to be.

"I think," you said, your voice just above a whisper, "I'm brave enough for that."

A Royal Christmas Kiss was somehow even more ridiculously over-the-top than the first. You and Bob had long since cleared away the empty takeout containers, stashing them in the kitchen sink for later. Now, you were both sprawled out on your bed, nestled beneath the ridiculously soft, fuzzy blanket, a gift from Yelena and Ava that surprisingly wasn't pink. It was a deep, forest green, a rare moment of restraint from "the girls."

Halfway through the movie, the screen was bathed in the soft glow of a thousand twinkling Christmas lights as the perpetually flustered American baker, who had somehow fallen in love with a prince, attempted to bake him a "love scone." It was a scene so dripping with saccharine sweetness and clumsy flirting that you and Bob had both dissolved into a fit of giggles.

You watched as the baker, her face dusted with flour, accidentally smeared some on the prince's nose. He, in turn, leaned in and gently wiped it off with his thumb, their eyes locking in a moment of undeniable, if entirely predictable, cinematic chemistry. Bob let out a hearty chuckle beside you, the sound rumbling pleasantly in his chest.

"Oh, the drama," he drawled, his voice laced with amusement. "The sheer, unbearable drama of a scone."

You snorted, a laugh escaping you that felt light and free. You turned your head, propping yourself up on an elbow, to face him. He was looking at the screen, a wide, genuine smile on his face, his Jack Skellington pajama pants peeking out from under the blanket. The soft light of the movie cast a warm glow on his features, highlighting the subtle curve of his lips, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes.

Suddenly, a thought, as unwelcome as it was undeniable, popped into your head. It was a thought that had been lurking in the shadows of your mind for hours, a shy creature hesitant to make an appearance. But watching him laugh, seeing him so comfortable in your space, it pushed its way to the forefront.

You cleared your throat, the sound ridiculously loud in the quiet room. Bob's gaze shifted from the screen to you, his eyebrows raising slightly in question. Your heart, which had just begun to settle into a comfortable rhythm, suddenly started to hammer against your ribs again.

"You know," you began, your voice sounding stiff and formal, like you were reading from a long-forgotten mission brief, "they say... that a good way to... bond with someone... is through shared… baked goods."

You winced internally. It was supposed to be a clever, light-hearted quip, a subtle nod to the movie's terrible flirting. Instead, it sounded like you were delivering a scientific report on the efficacy of carb-loading for emotional connection. The words, clunky and awkward, hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of your immediate regret. You could feel a blush creeping up your neck, burning hot. You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole, anything to dispel the mortifying silence that followed.

Bob stared at you for a beat, his smile faltering slightly as he processed your undeniably bizarre statement. You braced yourself for a polite, yet utterly devastating, rejection, or worse, a burst of uncontrollable laughter. Your cheeks were burning now, a furious inferno that seemed to spread to the tips of your ears. This was it. You had officially ruined everything.

Then, slowly, a soft chuckle escaped him, low and warm. It wasn't the boisterous laugh you'd anticipated, but a gentle, almost hesitant sound that made some of the tension in your shoulders ease. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm, and the contact sent a surprising jolt through you.

"So," he said, his voice laced with a playful teasing, "are you suggesting we… bake scones together sometime? For… bonding purposes?"

His eyes, still twinkling with amusement, met yours, and you found yourself momentarily speechless. He hadn't recoiled. He hadn't mocked you. He was actually playing along. A small, hesitant smile touched your lips.

"I mean," you managed, your voice still a little shaky, "it's certainly… a more unique approach than a walk in the park with pigeons."

Bob's chuckle deepened, and he shifted closer, propping himself up on his own elbow so you were now facing each other, barely a foot apart. The air between you felt charged, thick with an unspoken something.

"You know," he said, his gaze dropping to your Hello Kitty pajama pants, a faint blush now dusting his own cheeks, "I think our… shared affinity for questionable loungewear is already a pretty strong bond. We're practically soulmates in terrible taste."

You let out a genuine laugh, a little surprised by the ease with which it came. "Hey," you retorted, feigning indignation, "these are incredibly comfortable! And yours aren't exactly haute couture, Mr. Skellington."

He grinned, a crooked, charming tilt of his lips. "Touché. But you have to admit, there's a certain… synergy, isn't there? You in Hello Kitty, and me in Jack Skellington. It's practically a superhero team-up waiting to happen."

You shook your head, a soft smile still playing on your lips. "I think the only thing we'd be saving is the world from bad fashion choices."

The conversation drifted, light and easy, punctuated by comfortable silences and the occasional burst of laughter. You talked about the absurdity of your mutual near-miss "first dates," the relentless, well-meaning interference of Yelena and Ava, and even a little about your lives before everything. He listened intently when you spoke, his gaze steady and warm, making you feel seen in a way you rarely experienced.

At one point, the movie on the screen provided another perfectly timed, ridiculously romantic scene. The prince and the baker were slow dancing in a snow-covered ballroom, their faces inches apart. You glanced at the screen, then back at Bob, who was already looking at you, a soft, unreadable expression on his face.

"You know," he murmured, his voice a little lower now, "for someone who's 'emotionally detached,' you're doing a pretty good job of… not being."

Your breath hitched slightly. The compliment, delivered so casually, yet with such genuine sincerity, caught you off guard. You felt the blush return, hotter than before. This was it. The moment. The precipice.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. "Well," you said, attempting to sound nonchalant, "I'm merely… adapting to the situation. Assessing the… emotional landscape." You immediately cursed yourself. Emotional landscape? You sounded like a robot.

Bob just chuckled, a gentle rumble in his chest. He didn't mock you, didn't even seem fazed by your utterly ridiculous phrasing. Instead, he simply reached out, his hand slowly, almost hesitantly, coming to rest on yours, which was still resting on the blanket between you. His fingers, warm and calloused, intertwined with yours, a simple, tender gesture that made your heart pound against your ribs.

"Or maybe," he whispered, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, "you're just… really good at flirting."

Your eyes widened slightly, and you felt a shy, almost giddy feeling bubble up inside you. "Me?" you squeaked, the sound high-pitched and entirely undignified. "I just told you we should bond over baked goods!"

He laughed, a genuine, unrestrained sound that filled the room. "And I thought it was incredibly charming," he said, his gaze locked with yours, warm and unwavering. "It was... uniquely you."

The sincerity in his voice, the warmth of his hand in yours, it was all too much, and yet, exactly what you needed. You found yourself leaning in, drawn by an invisible current, and he mirrored your movement, closing the small distance between you. His eyes, in the dim light, seemed darker, more intense. You could feel his breath on your cheek, warm and soft.

The air thrummed with a different kind of tension now, one that was far more pleasant than anxiety. You weren't sure what to do, what to say, or even what you wanted to happen. All you knew was that his hand in yours felt impossibly right, and the way he was looking at you made your carefully constructed walls feel like they were crumbling, piece by beautiful piece.

You swallowed, your heart thudding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. The space between your faces was shrinking, an invisible force pulling you closer. His eyes, a warm, inviting brown, held yours, and you saw a reflection of your own nervous anticipation there. Your gaze dropped to his lips, a silent invitation, and you felt a tremor run through you. This was it. The moment you'd unknowingly been dreading and longing for all at once.

His head tilted almost imperceptibly, and your own followed suit. You could feel the soft brush of his breath against your lips, smell the faint, comforting scent of him – Chinese takeout, a hint of his cologne, and something else, something uniquely Bob. Every instinct in your body, honed for combat and evasion, screamed to pull back, to create distance. But another, softer instinct, one you hadn't known you possessed, urged you forward.

Just as your lips were about to meet, a sudden, piercing shriek erupted from the movie playing on your laptop. It was a comically over-the-top reaction from the prince's jealous ex-fiancée, who had just discovered the royal Christmas kiss. The jarring sound shattered the delicate bubble you and Bob had created.

You both flinched, pulling back abruptly, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and a touch of lingering disappointment. The magic of the moment dissipated, replaced by a sudden, awkward awareness of the space between you. You could feel your cheeks flush even deeper, and you avoided his gaze, instead focusing intently on a loose thread on the green blanket.

Bob cleared his throat, a soft, almost embarrassed sound. "Well," he mumbled, gesturing vaguely towards the laptop, "she's certainly not taking it well."

You managed a weak, breathy laugh, still not quite meeting his eyes. "No," you agreed, your voice a little shaky, "I suppose not."

An uncomfortable silence descended, far heavier than the comfortable one you'd shared moments before. The almost-kiss hung in the air between you, a tangible thing, making your heart thump erratically. You felt a familiar wave of self-consciousness wash over you. Had you misread the signals? Had you pushed too far?

Then, Bob shifted on the bed, and you braced yourself for him to pull away entirely, to retreat to his side of the bed. Instead, he gently squeezed your hand, his thumb still stroking your skin. You finally risked a glance at him. He was looking at you, a soft, understanding smile playing on his lips, a hint of lingering warmth in his eyes.

"So," he said, his voice a low, reassuring murmur, "do you think Holly and the prince are going to make it work?"

The question, so mundane and perfectly timed, was a lifeline. It was his way of acknowledging the interrupted moment without making it a bigger deal than it needed to be, a gentle invitation to return to the comfortable, easy dynamic you'd built.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, followed by a surprising surge of affection for this man who understood you, even when you barely understood yourself. You squeezed his hand back, a silent thank you.

"Considering it's a Hallmark movie," you said, a genuine smile finally gracing your lips, "I'm pretty sure true love will conquer all."

He chuckled, and the tension in the room eased another notch. "Wouldn't have it any other way," he replied, and though his eyes were on the screen, his thumb continued its soft, rhythmic caress against your hand, a quiet promise that the moment wasn't truly lost, just postponed.

The royal wedding finally concluded on screen, a crescendo of orchestral music and fake snow. You vaguely registered the "Happily Ever After" title card, but your eyelids felt impossibly heavy. The warmth of the fuzzy blanket, the comfortable weight of Bob beside you, and the sheer exhaustion from the day's emotional rollercoaster had conspired to lull you into a state of near-sleep. Your head, no longer supported by your elbow, instinctively listed to the side, coming to rest gently on Bob's shoulder.

You felt him stir beneath you, a subtle shift that didn't feel like a retreat, but rather a quiet adjustment. He moved just enough to tilt his head, allowing him to look down at you. You opened your eyes sluggishly, a soft sigh escaping your lips. His face was close, illuminated by the dim glow of the laptop screen, his expression unreadable but gentle. You managed a small, sleepy smile.

"I had a really good—" you began, the words slurring slightly.

Before you could finish, he leaned in. It was a slow, deliberate movement, giving you just enough time to process what was happening. Your eyes widened almost imperceptibly, surprise blooming in your chest. This wasn't the tentative, almost-kiss from earlier. This was a definite, intentional lean, his gaze fixed on your lips.

His lips, soft and warm, met yours. It was a brief kiss, a fleeting brush that lasted only a second, but it sent a jolt through you, clearing the last vestiges of sleep from your mind. He pulled back slightly, his eyes wide and a faint flush rising on his cheeks.

"Oh, gosh," he stammered, his voice laced with mortification, "I am so, so sorry. I didn't—I shouldn't have—"

You didn't let him finish. The surprise had given way to something else, a warmth that spread through your chest, eclipsing the lingering awkwardness. Without a second thought, you leaned in again, closing the small distance between you. Your lips met his once more, a more confident, lingering touch this time. You raised a hand, placing it flat against his chest, feeling the steady, rapid beat of his heart mirroring your own. It was a clear, unspoken message: It's okay. More than okay.

When you finally pulled away, your hearts were both hammering, a frantic, shared rhythm. His eyes were wide, a mix of shock and something softer, something hopeful. Your own cheeks felt hot, but a genuine, albeit slightly dazed, smile played on your lips.

"I..." Bob started, his voice still a little shaky, "I just… I really like being close to you." He shifted awkwardly on the bed, his gaze flickering from your face to his Jack Skellington pajama pants. "I know it's late, and it's probably weird to ask, but… would it be okay if I stayed? Just… here? On the bed?"

Your smile widened, a quiet sense of contentment settling over you. "Yeah," you said, your voice a soft murmur, "yeah, Bob. I'd like that."

A wave of relief washed over his face, and he let out a quiet exhale. He then carefully, almost tentatively, settled back down beside you, his arm finding its way around your waist, pulling you gently closer until your head was once again resting comfortably on his shoulder. You felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver of warmth through you.

The faint glow of the laptop screen was the only light in the room now, casting long, soft shadows. The sounds of the night, the distant hum of traffic, the quiet creaks of the building, seemed to fade into the background. All that mattered was the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his arm around you, and the comforting weight of his presence. You closed your eyes, a peaceful sigh escaping your lips. The ridiculous pajama pants, the cheesy movies, the awkward flirting, it had all led to this. And for the first time in a very long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[jeannyjaykaydeh]

Alastor x Reader

Light Smut

Here's the story behind my post about Alastor's dexterous skills with his cane, which really turns the reader on.

Link to the post:

Warnings: There are mentions of oral sex and fingering; the reader character has a vagina.

The plot isn't very... plot-heavy? It might be a little poorly written, to be honest.

It's mostly just a very horny reader, with a bit of a spicy ending.

Alastor might be a little out of character.

I still hope you enjoy reading it! :)

It's been a boring day at the Hazbin Hotel. You have finally managed to get out of bed after a long time, washed up, put on some clothes and are now leaving your room to go to the lobby. You actually like autumn, but you have to admit that this time of year always makes you feel a little sluggish.

You wonder if this time of year has the same effect on other souls.

Maybe Angel has some interesting news about some sinners you can gossip about. Or maybe Husk will make you that good tea again that only he can make.

You stride down the grand staircase, keeping an eye out for your friends to make sure they are here to save your boring day.

But instead of your friends, you see him: the radio demon.

Goosebumps of fear spread over your body - he has a cold and sinister aura - and at the same time that cosy, warm feeling rises in your chest that you always get when you see this elegant man in his red coat, which hugs a tall, slim body and makes a secret of what exactly is hidden underneath, but still reveals enough to know that revealing this secret is definitely worthwhile.

Your gaze falls on his feet, which are hidden in elegant oxfords with a discreet heel. Then your eyes travel up his body, which stands upright in a distinguished posture with both hands on the handle of his microphone cane. Over his dark trousers, which emphasise his long legs, then to his shirt, which he never tucks into his trousers, but you have often noticed that he wears a leather belt that fits perfectly with the overall look.

Sometimes, when you are lying in bed at night, you are overcome with fantasy and with it the strong desire to be allowed to help yourself to this belt just once.

On these nights, you imagine him sitting in his armchair in front of the fireplace in his room, lit by the flickering, warm fire that creates a warm atmosphere with its crackling. You imagine yourself kneeling on the floor in front of him, between his legs, while he holds the glowing green chain that binds your soul to him forever and looks at you expectantly after ordering you to open his trousers to satisfy him with your beautiful mouth.

You're almost at the foot of the stairs and you still can't stop staring at Alastor. Now you're looking at the strands of his hair, which rest very neatly in a bob cut almost on his shoulders, framing his handsome face, which is also adorned with his wonderful, captivating eyes that look like glowing rubies.

Oh, damn, you fancy this demon!

And you hate the fact that he seems so unapproachable. Like a mystery that doesn't want to be seen through.

As you start to enjoy his cute antlers sticking out of his fiery red mop of hair, your enjoyment is interrupted when you realise that he has a guest standing in front of him and talking to him. And this guest is none other than Mimzy.

She's been dropping by the hotel a lot these days to visit Alastor.

You can't stand her. She exudes an unpleasant aura towards you.

You know that she doesn't like you either. But you don't know why that is.

The reason is that she can't stand the fact that you have a high status with Alastor - which you don't know either. And he probably doesn't either.

But Mimzy recognises it. The way he looks at you and how his usually bitter smile turns into a warm expression as soon as you're near him. How his pupils dilate when you talk to him. And he talks about you a lot. Almost all the time, in fact.

How Mimzy wished she could have been looked at like that by Alastor when she was alive. But she could go to great lengths to make her way into his otherwise dark heart, but she never made it. He successfully stopped her. Time and time again.

And now that place in his cold, dead heart is occupied. This powerful, self-absorbed jerk has let you in there without you realising it.

"Ah, good day, my dear. It's a real pleasure to finally see you among the more lively characters in this hotel" Alastor greets you with genuine joy, which Mimzy only comments on with a discontented grumble.

"Hi" you reply shyly and immediately head for the lobby sofa, which is a little further away from the bar where the two twenties chatterboxes are standing.

But the radio demon doesn't find your aloof attitude particularly pleasant. When you sit down on the sofa, he asks: "Why don't you join us, y/n? It would be a pleasure to pour you a drink and enjoy a nice chat with you."

Your gaze wanders to Mimzy, who seems rather unhappy about her friend's invitation. That alone is reason enough for you to approach them with a provocative grin and join in their conversation.

Angel and Husk aren't here anyway and maybe the two flappers will manage to get you out of your boredom.

But you realise now that you've made a mistake.

Firstly, there is Alastor's immediate proximity. His scent has such a beguiling effect on you that you feel as if you've been catapulted into another dimension.

The arousal in your body increases, you feel the moisture spreading between your legs and soaking your panties with this warm, clear juice.

You try very hard to listen to Alastor, but it seems almost impossible.

And then comes the final signal that you can forget any attempt to concentrate on this conversation when you suddenly notice his hand skilfully twirling the microphone cane between his fingers.

You watch these movements intently and are impressed by his skill.

You've often noticed that he spins his walking stick between his fingers from time to time, but it's only at this moment that you realise how incredibly good he is at it.

You don't take your eyes off his hand. Impressed by the skill of his nimble fingers, you dive into your fantasy world in which you imagine that the radio demon is pleasuring you with these fingers.

That he pushes them inside you and explores every single spot of your wet temple until he finds the one that really excites you.

Meanwhile, he rubs your clitoris with his thumb to drive you to absolute ecstasy.

You imagine him looking deep into your eyes and repeatedly mentioning how beautiful he thinks you are while he drives you crazy with his dexterity in your dripping wet, delicious pussy.

Your whole body tenses up at the thought, your loins burn with desire for this man and your desire to be satisfied by him grows stronger and stronger.

You want nothing more than to belong to him for just one night, and you would even make the dirtiest, most sinful deal with him.

"Hey, he asked you a question, bitch!" Mimzy yells at you and snaps you out of your forbidden daydream.

You look at his annoyed face, then at Alastor, who looks at you in a patronising, expectant way.

"Would you come with me to Cannibal Town later, my dear? I'd like to go for a walk in the park and wouldn't mind your company."

You turn bright red and almost compete with the radio demon's coat.

"I..." you stammer, embarrassed. You can feel Alastor and Mimzy's eyes on you and it feels as if they have read your thoughts and seen this naughty film in your head.

"Excuse me. I have to go" you say suddenly and immediately turn round and hurry back up the stairs to your room.

When you get there, you close the door loudly behind you, lean against it and, completely out of breath, you try to calm down from everything that has just happened.

You wait.

And wait.

Until your breathing gradually settles down again.

When you realise that you can breathe normally again, you sink to the floor, your knees pulled up close to your body, your arms folded on your knees and your head buried in them.

That was probably the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you.

Fuck!

Why did that even have to happen?

Suddenly you are torn from your stream of thought when there is a knock on the door behind you.

The knock sounds like the hand of a strong man. It sounds firm and authoritative. The sound of the knock alone tells you who is on the other side of the door.

You roll your eyes in despair - why did he have to follow you now?

You quickly get up from the floor, smooth out your clothes and hair to bring some order back to your rumpled appearance and then open the door.

The radio demon smiles down at you and before you can even think about inviting him in, he confidently and naturally makes his way past you into your room. As he stops in the room, he turns round on the heel of his shoe in an elegant turn towards you, stops in front of you in an upright, distinguished posture and places his hands on the handle of his walking stick.

You close the door.

"Hello, my dear" he greets you with a certain irony in his voice, which is accompanied by a radio filter.

You look at him with narrowed eyes. You mistrust him in a way, especially when he grins at you with his arrogant manner, as he is doing at this moment.

You don't say anything. You don't have to, because it's Alastor who keeps talking as he crosses his arms behind his back with his walking stick and starts pacing around your room, looking around as if he's looking for something that will tell him more about you: "You're probably wondering why I'm here. Well, that's a very good question, after you removed yourself from our conversation rather quickly."

He casts a scrutinising glance over his shoulder at you to see your reaction.

You look to the side, embarrassed.

What should you say when he asks you why you suddenly left?

He approaches you and infiltrates your personal space. He gets so close to you that you can almost feel his breath on your face as he bores his gaze into yours to force the truth.

But you try to avoid the truth for now by stammering, suppressing your heavy breathing with excitement: "I... I was expecting an important call."

Slowly, Alastor steps closer to you and pushes you backwards. He sighs in disappointment and shakes his head in judgement. Then he says, "Y/n, you should know that I don't like being lied to at all."

You are stopped by a wall and are forced to stand still while the radio demon stands directly in front of you, barely leaving any space between you and pinning you to the wall.

Your heart beats ever more wildly against your chest. Partly from fear. Partly from excitement.

You breathe in his beguiling scent as he looks at you insistently.

His gaze seems dark, his smile sinister and then he asks something you wish he'd never asked: "Why were you staring at me like that earlier, hm? Do you think I don't recognise a woman's lustful gaze when it's directed at me?"

Your cheeks flush heavily and you feel the moisture spreading through your lower region again.

You can't help but find this moment more erotic than scary.

You avert your eyes from him in an attempt to hide your shame.

But what's wrong with him? Since when has he been like this?

"Nuh-uh-uh. Don't be shy, my dear."

Suddenly he lets go of you.

He takes a little distance from you and with a meaningful grin - his eyes still fixed on you - he raises his walking stick with one hand, the other behind his back, while he stands in a distinguished posture.

And then he starts twirling the cane.

You look at his hand. At his fingers. You watch these talented movements closely and you don't realise that you are biting your lower lip suggestively as you involuntarily imagine these gifted fingers moving inside you.

"From the first time I saw the wicked look on your face, I immediately realised why you are so taken with the way I twirl my cane. And that's exactly why I always do it whenever you're near me" he murmurs in a dark voice.

Excuse me?

Your eyes widen in shock. Your mouth is slightly open, as if you want to say something back, but you are completely lost for words.

He brings his hand to your cheek, brushes a few strands of hair from your face with his thumb and now you can feel his excited breath as it caresses your delicate skin.

"I'm enjoying seeing how much you want me, sweetheart" he says with a static rush of pleasure.

"Go on, say it!" he suddenly commands you and you understand exactly what he wants from you. With trembling lips, you breathe a shy but lustful "I... I want you, Alastor" as you savour his touch on your cheek.

You reach for his hand, bring it to your mouth, close your eyes and spread a few kisses on his palm while breathing excitedly.

Suddenly, the radio demon tears himself away from you to place his hand on the back of your neck, pull you towards him and press an intimate, sensitive and hot kiss to your lips.

Your tongues dance together as if they have always longed to do so, his bittersweet saliva mingles with yours and you love the taste of it spreading through your mouth. Sometimes you feel his razor-sharp teeth running dangerously but carefully over the sensitive skin of your lower lip, hinting at slight bites of desire.

Then you pause to look into each other's eyes. When you open your eyes, you see that his antlers have grown larger.

He gently strokes your head and cheek and then runs his thumb over your lower lip.

"Tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours when you watch me" he says in his radio filter voice.

You gather all your courage - your strong desire for him helps you a lot - and you reply in a low voice: "I... I want you to finger me."

A dark chuckle comes from Alastor and the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a cheeky and triumphant grin.

Then he speaks: "Uh-huh! So that's what you are. It's not like you to hide such sinful thoughts behind that innocent-looking soul. But it seems to me that this season is turning us both into wayward sinners."

Suddenly he grabs you, spins you around, pushes you across the room and then gives you a shove so that you land on the bed with a swing.

Immediately afterwards, he climbs onto the bed with you, bends over you and soon you can feel his hand moving down your body to tug at your trousers. Goose bumps spread under the beads of sweat from your sexual energy.

"Now then. Your wish is my command, darling" he whispers to you with a satisfied and lustful smile.

Joy spreads through you, you smile back as you wrap your arms around him and pull him towards you for another deep kiss.

[jeyramarie]

The recruit- Yelena Belova x Reader (Season 2 Part 4)

summary: Valentina always seems to bring out everyone's dark side. Some being... worse than others.

w.c: 3,455

warnings: fighting, cursing, blood, mentions of guns, angst

a/n: can't wait for you guys to see what i've come up with for y/n's void 👀 it's important to read season 1 of the recruit (masterlist) to be able to understand it! but anyway, thanks for all the love, happy reading 🤍

part 1~ part 2~ part 3~

Previously on the recruit...

BEEP

“Jesus, you guys, we literally just put that drywall in.” Valentina spoke through the speaker. “I left the door unlocked for you, come up.” 

They all stared at each other in confusion. She left the door “unlocked” so she was waiting for them. Valentina knew they were coming. Bucky walked towards the elevator first, pushing the button as the rest of the team walked closer to him. Yelena grabbed Y/n’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, silently reassuring each other that they were okay. The doors opened with a small ding, making them all pile into it. The y/h/c looked at the blonde, giving her hand a small squeeze before looking forward at the door. Y/n couldn't pinpoint the reason at the moment, she couldn’t tell her girlfriend, considering how crowded the elevator was. But a little voice inside her head told her that something was wrong, something was going to happen. She just hoped it didn’t have to do with Bob.

The elevator doors opened to reveal an open space with a view of the city. A bar sat at the side of the room with fancy stairs next to it, leading to the top floor. And there she stood behind said bar, Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. They walked out of the elevator, Y/n tighten her grip on Yelena’s hand when she heard a familiar voice. 

“How crazy is it to think that all the most monumental fights that happened exactly here where you’re standing?” She spoke, opening a bottle of champagne. “I don’t really care. I mean, the place wasn’t cheap, but it has good optics.” 

“It’s over, Valentina.” Bucky said, standing near the window. “This ends today.”

“Congressman, Barnes, wow.” She replied, walking around the bar towards them. “You know, I never really thought you’d have a promising political career but, less than hald a term? Yikes.”

“We’re taking you in, Val.” John spoke, stepping forward. 

“I don’t think so.” She scoffed. “Junior varsity, Captain America.”   

John reached for his gun, beginning to pull it out when Bucky stopped him, calling out his name. The room felt heavy. It was silent for a second. None of them imagined the fight that was coming. 

“Ava, good to see you.” Valentina spoke, watching as the brunette stepped closer before darting her eyes to the couple. “Yelena, Y/n, I see my matchmaking skills still work, you both look awful… Yelena, are you sure you’re ready for that public facing roll you asked me about?” 

“Eat shit, Valentina.” The blonde responded, letting go of the widow’s hand as she stepped forward. “Where’s Bob?” 

“Look at you, you are all so adorable.” She started, giving them a wicked smile. “Just think, I send you down there, to kill each other and instead, you make nice and you form a team.” 

Valentina looked around the room and landed her eyes on Alexei, who she stared at in question. “Who is this old Santa?” She asked bitterly. 

“I’m Alexei Shostakov.” He nodded with a smile as she continued to stare in confusion. “The Red Guardian.”

“What?”

Bucky began to speak to her about Mel as Y/n’s mind traveled elsewhere. Her thoughts went to every possible scenario, counted every window and air vent, before darting her eyes to the stairs. There's only a handful of situations that can happen if any of them attempts to go up those stairs. Y/n took a few steps backward, walking by Ava to stand closest to the corner. Something told her that she needed the distance between her and Valentina. 

“Robert.” She called out, tilting her head towards the stairs. 

Heavy footsteps echoed around the room, causing all of them to look up. Bob stepped down, wearing a shiny suit with a cape. His hair was blonde, his face looked serious and his hands were in a fist. Y/n could tell, he was the weapon Valentina always wanted. 

“Oh my god.” Yelena spoke in disbelief. 

“Bob?” Y/n asked, taking a few steps forward with her mouth agape. 

“That’s Bob?” Bucky question, stepping back as he finally put a face to the name. 

“Yeah, he’s changed.” Ava spoke, walking back to look at him up and down. 

“It is, my great honor, to introduce to you, the Sentry.” Valentina smiled as Bob looked up at them with a shy smile. 

“Hey, guys.” He smiled.

“Wow, that’s cool name.” Alexei muttered, getting death stares from Ava and Yelena as Valentina continued.

“All powerful, invincible, stronger than all the Avengers rolled into one and soon to be known as Earth’s mightiest hero.” 

“Did you dye your hair?” Ava asked, tilting her head. 

“Yeah, well, it was-” Bob began but was quickly cut off. 

“It was my idea.” Valentina smiled proudly. “People love a classic hero.” 

“Bob, what did they do to you?” Y/n said as she frowned, staring in disbelief. 

“Okay, what’s the plan?” Bucky furrowed his brows. 

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Bucky? Jeez, at least you’re kinda cute.” 

“You’re not going to hurt people.” Alexei spoke in worry. 

“Oh no, no, no.” Valentina shook her head. “I’m not gonna hurt people, I’m gonna hurt you. You see, the press is on their way here now. They’re going to witness the awesome power of Sentry as he takes down this ruthless group of rogue agents, beginning a new era in which I decided how to keep the American people safe. Answering to no one, I’ll be un-impeachable.” 

“That’s never gonna happen.” Bucky replied. 

“Sentry, your first mission is to take out these criminals.” 

Ava activated her suit, John gripped his shield harder, Alexei changed his stance, ready to launch at anyone and Bucky moved his shoulders as if he was warming up to right. In the meantime, Y/n and Yelena stood frozen, staring at the guy they actually grew to care about. They developed a desire to protect him. Which explains why it never fit into their head how that same was ordered to hurt them. Even worse, kill them. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you, guys.” Bob shook his head. “Why don’t you just turn yourselves in?”

“No, you don’t wanna do this, Bobby.” John stared in sadness. 

“You can call me the Sentry.” 

“Please, don’t do this, you do not need to listen to her.” Yelena spoke, shaking her head as she stepped closer. 

“Robert, they don’t think your’e good enough.” Valentina said, turning to the new blonde man. 

“No, that’s not true.” The widow added. 

“Don’t lie to him, Valentina.” Y/n raised her voice, taking long steps towards the small step where Bob stood. “Don’t listen to her, that’s not true… remember, you can trust me.”

“We know you.” 

“I don’t think that you do.” Bob replied as the widows stood back in surprise. Not even when they were being honest and vulnerable would Valentina’s brainwash go away. 

“Bob, please, just-” Y/n lowered her voice but was quickly interrupted by a loud Russian, who desperately wanted to fight. 

“Enough talking!” He began. “No one messes with the West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts!”

The Russian bolted towards Bob Sentry who immediately blocked the punch, causing Alexei to fly across the room. Bucky reacted immediately, pulling out both his guns as John moved forwward with his shield. Ava took out her batons causing Y/n to turn to her with hands held up in surrender. 

“No, no, no!” Yelena shouted, stepping in front of Bucky. 

Ava disappeared and reappeared next to Bob,swinging her arm as John threw the shield. 

“Wait!” Y/n shouted as was quickly blown back by Sentry. 

Gunshots erupted around the room as Bucky viciously shot towards him who effortlessly lifted his hand, stopping the bullets before they got near him. He pushed them back, throwing them back to the Winter Soldier, making John step forward, for them to hit the shield as they flew back to hit the wall. Alexei took out his knife, running towards him but was quickly stopped by Sentry’s forcefield. 

“Alexei, wait!” Yelena shouted as Y/n ran to him. 

The Russian attempted to continuously stab him but the knife was immediately shattered over and over. Sentry moved his hand, causing Alexei to fly out of the building, before being pulled back to crash into the bar. John and Ava continued to attack him continously, attempting to catch him off guard at one point. Sentry bent John’s shield in half, as the agent stared in shock before being pushed away to the other side of the room. 

Bucky began his attempts to stab him, blocking his arms and punches before being flown to the ceiling by Sentry, who pushed him agains the same wall. Yelean ran from the windows, jumping on his back, releasing her widow bites at his neck. They were blocked by his forcefield as Sentry looked over his shoulder, flying upward to trap the blonde against the ceiling before returning to the ground. Yelena fell and Sentry grabbed her from the back of her suit before throwing her against the elevator doors. 

Y/n took the opportunity and, thanks to her stealthy nature, she actually caught him off guard. The widow sliced the back of Sentry’s thigh, before sliding to the front to stab his other leg when he looked down at her. She wasted no time grabbing his right hand and throwing her leg over to bring him to the floor. Of course, his powers were stronger. Sentry grabbed her bak of her suit, pushing her to the ground before grabbing her neck, tightening his grip around the y/h/c, causing her to immediately reach for his arm. 

“Bob, stop.” Y/n whispered, feeling her airways close up. “Please.” 

“You’re just like me.” Bob spoke, almost in an evil way. “No one wants you, no one wants to be around you, that’s why Yelena walked away from you.” 

“Bob, stop!” The blonde shouted, trying to get closer. “That’s not true.” 

Sentry looked at Yelena over his shoulder before lifting the y/h/c, never releasing his grip. He stared at her one more time, watching as her eyes traveled to the blonde in desperation. Feeling satisfied at her vulnerability, he threw her near Yelena, making her crash on the ground in front of the elevator. Y/n coughed desperately, feeling oxygen finally flow through her lungs and soft pair of hands grazing her hair back. 

The y/h/c hearing was muffled as she looked around the room in confusion. Her eyes lifted, landing on Yelena. Her mouth was moving but Y/n’s hearing was still affected by the fall. She didn’t know what happened, but her girlfriend was suddenly grabbing her arm, throwing it over her shoulders to help her hand. Yelena held her till they all piled into the elevator, where Y/n leaned against the wall next to Bucky. 

Once the elevator opened, they all walked out of the elevator, groaning and grunting in pain. The blonde continued to hold Y/n close to her, whoms hearing returned to normal once she stepped outside. They all stood in a circle, taking heavy breaths and looking around, attempting to think of a plan. 

“Okay, we need new plan.” Alexeri spoke, catching his breath. 

“No, no new plans.” John took off his helmet. “That thing is too powerful.” 

“We just need to regroup and think.” He panted. “There got to be a way to stop that guy.”

“We’re not regrouping, this isn’t even a team.” 

“Of course, we’re a team, we are the Thunderbolts!”

“I don’t know what that means.” Bucky spat, holding his ruge to roll his eyes. 

“It’s her pee wee soccer team… thing..” Ava spoke, refrring to Yelena. 

“We have to go somewhere to discuss this-”

“Discuss what?!” John shouted, cutting Alexei off. 

“We are going to regroup and-”

“Oh my god, stop!” Yelena shouted. “There is no ‘us’, there is no ‘we’, Bob changed into that thing and there is nothing any of you can do about it.”

“Then what did you do exactly? Because I first seem to remember you getting your ass beat way worse than mine.” Ava spoke, squinting her eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, I suck! I’m terrible, we’re all terrible!” She shouted. “Ava, you’re not a hero, you’re not even a good person.”

“Bitch.”

“You see?” 

“Slow down, amyshka-” Alexei spoke, coming towards his daughter to comfort her. 

“Alexei, I am not your amyshka!” Yelena shouted. “I haven’t heard from you or seen you in a year!”

“Lena, calm down.” Y/n attempted to speak but was met with burning green eyes, silentyly telling her to not test her. 

“Go easy on him.” John added.

“Oh, so you’re nice now?” 

“Is it my turn?” 

“No, you know you’re a piece of trash, Walker, so does your family.” The blonde shrugged as the agent muttered a small ‘Jesus’ in defeat. 

“Yelena, that’s enough!” Y/n raised her voice, moving in front of her as she cleared her throat, pushing through the pain. “You spoke your mind, that’s it, we get it.” 

“We’re all losers… and we lost.” She chuckled dryly, turning around to cross the street. 

“Yelena!” Y/n called out, following the blonde as Alexei trailed behind. 

The Russian caught up to the y/h/c and they remained quiet, watching the blonde walk in front of them. They didn’t want to disturb her but neither of them wanted to leave her alone in a moment like this. In a moment where she could need either of them any second. 

“So, you are back together?” Alexei spoke, breaking the silence.

“We are, yeah.” Y/n replied with a quick smile. “We haven’t been able to speak much about it though.”

“Oh, why not?” 

“Well, Alexei, we were roped into this whole mess ‘cause of Valentina.”  Y/n shrugged. “We haven’t really had alone time.” 

“We must hurry, she is walking faster.” Alexei muttered, pointing at the short blonde who was walking a considerable distance away from them. 

They jogged closer to her, making the Russian call out for her. “Lena! Little one!”

“Go away!” The blonde shouted in return, never halting her steps. 

“Baby, come on, just slow down.” Y/n spoke, grazing her hand on her arm as she attempted to grab her elbow. “Let’s talk, Yelena.” 

“Go away.” 

“No, I will not.” Alexei spoke. 

“Then you will chase me forever.” 

“Fine, I will because that’s what family does.” 

That’s all it took for Yelena to turn around. That’s all it took for all the hidden and suppressed feelings to explode into the surface. 

“Oh my god, stop!” She shouted, walking towards the Russian. “If you cared, you would’ve called, I would’ve heard from you.”

Alexei stayed quiet, staring at his daughter with regret as Yelena’s eyes began to water. 

“I lost my sister again, but forever, I almost lost the love of my life… and you disappeared.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do this.” He spoke honestly. “I didn’t think you wanted me.” 

“I did.” 

“I see now, I’m late but I’m here now.” Alexei stepped forward. “Y/n and I, we’re here now.” 

Yelena stared at them with tears in her eyes. She drifted towards Alexei, feeling ashamed to speak about this infront of Y/n. 

“Daddy, I’m so alone.” She cried. “I don’t have anything anymore. All I do is sit and look at my phone and think of all the terrible things that I’ve done and then I drink and I come home to no one and I sit and I think I did come home to someone and I ruined that-”

“Yelena, stop, stop, we all have things that we regret.”

“No, but I have so many.” The blonde raised her voice, sneaking at glance at the y/h/c who was staring at the ground, silently crying. “My first test at the Red Room, Anya, she was just a child, she was so small.”

“So were you.” Alexei shook his head as his eyes began to water. “I know there were dark times, very very dark times but before, you were just a special little girl. Did you know that? You walk into room, you made it bright, you felt a lot of joy.”

“I don’t remember.” Yelena cried, shaking her head. 

“You were so kind.” He smiled. “You remember why you wanted to be goalie on your terrible soccer team?”

“So I didn’t have to run in the mud?” 

“No, maybe that too, but, you told me ‘I want to be the one everyone can rely on if they make a mistake’. That Yelena is still in you, I still see her.”

“I don’t.” She replied with her head down. 

“You’re stuck, you’re alone, you look only at the bad… when I look at you, when Y/n looks at you, we don’t see your mistakes.” He nodded. “It’s why we need each other.”

“Okay, that was really good.” She sniffled, turning her gaze over to the side to see her girlfriend gone. “Y/n?”

Alexei looked behind her, causing the blonde to turn to see Y/n looking at the sky. They both made their way towards her on the street to see a dark figure floating. Everyone stared in question, others in fear of the unknown. Y/n walked forward, standing in the middle of the street as Alexei and Yelena followed. 

“Bob.” Y/n whispered. 

“Oh no.” The blonde muttered. 

Suddenly a helicopter crashed into a building’s crane, causing it to fall between two buildings. Debry fell onto the street, making every civilian run around in chaos, avoiding the cement as it continued to fall. Y/n ran into action, helping people run to the opposite side of the street to seek shelter. Alexei ran, grabbing a metal panel to shield him and a few civilians into safety. The y/h/c ran back to when she saw Yelena flying in the air, landing next to people who needed help. Ava, Bucky and John returned, pulling people away from the falling debry, pushing them off the street, etc. 

Each of them out their powers and abilities to use. Even though Yelena and Y/n were the only ones with no genetic mutation or enhancement, they used their agility and speed to help as much as they could. A gigantic piece of debry was falling to the ground as a civilian tried to crawl, crying in fear of getting splattered by cement. John held the piece of debry with his back, grunting as he tried to push it back. Ava appeared next to him, then Alexei, then Yelena, then Y/n and finally Bucky. They all used all of their strength to push the piece of debry, making it fall to the ground as they tried to catch their breaths. 

Civilians began to clap as they stared around in confusion. People were actually celebrating them. They were clapping for them and for what they had done. It was a bit of a first for all of them. They did something good and people were recognizing that. Alexei noticed a little girl standing on the street, calling out for her mom when he saw a piece of debry falling directly towards her. He ran to her, covering the little girl with his body when the debry fell, splitting in two. 

“You’re safe, little one.” He smiled, remembering when Yelena was that small. Remembering for a second, how he would go back in time to save her from Dreykov. 

The little girl turned to a black shadow, as well as a few civillians who began to run away from the darkness. It was overpowering every corner of the street. 

“You all know the truth.” Sentry spoke as he flew lower. “You can’t outrun the emptiness.”

“Uh, I think Bob’s dark side got super powers.” John spoke, staring at the Sentry. “We have to get everyone off the street.” 

Alexei grabbed on Yelena’s arm, as they all ran away from the darkness. They got people inside of buildings and as far away as possible. Yelena stood there, staring at the Sentry as the darkness continued to eat away the city. Y/n turned, noticing that the blonde was nowhere near them. She looked over her shoulder, immediately feeling a wave of fear over here. Even if it was Yelena that left and walked away from their relationship, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if anything happened to her. 

“Yelena!” Y/n shouted, walking towards her. “What are you doing?” 

“Lena!” Alexei shouted, watching at the y/h/c run towards his daughter. 

The darkness got closer to the blonde, she stopped in front of it and looked upward, listening to her girlfriend and father calling out for her. Yelena took a deep breath, lifting her foot to get sucked into the void but instead, she was quickly pulled back. She fell to the ground in surprise, confused on who pulled her out. Y/n stood in front of her with her back to the darkness as she stared into the green eyes that always put her at ease. 

She remembered when she met Yelena. Y/n’s first mission with Valentina and Yelena’s first mission with a partner. First partner after Natasha, that is. The blonde despised her, but Y/n was always in trance with her. Her eyes were what captivated her since she sat across from her on that train in Romania. Alexei grabbed onto the blonde as she kicked and shouted for the y/h/c, watching as the love of her life got surrounded by darkness, turning into nothing but a shadow. 

yelena taglist: @imfuckinggenius @yelenabelovasbxtch @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ilovewinter101 @s1ut4nat @nebulablakemurphy @theshippergal @kacka84 @an-evergreen-rose @wandaswifeyforlifey @loomontoia @zombies1ayea @baylegend6 @twentyonetornmyheart @screechcat @bi-narystars

[luvrxbunny]

fifteen minutes

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader 

Prompt: Free Use (?)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, kinda rough sex, piv, unprotected sex, minimal talking and kissing, no aftercare (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.3k

A/N: the end feels kinda sad cus no aftercare but- 

You’re waiting for Eddie in his changing room. It’s a little bigger than an office, but not big enough to be a bedroom. There’s a couch in it and a little vanity desk for his makeup and hair. You’re on the couch, trying to ignore the springs in it as you read a magazine you swiped from the receptionist's desk. You have headphones in, listening to Eddie’s newest EP, the same one he’s here to perform. You’ve tried to listen to his set live but being backstage means it’s a bit louder than you can handle so you play his music as loud as you can handle in your ears. 

You’re reading the newest edition of Vogue, your eyes popping out of your head at how fancy some of these outfits look. You’re snacking on some grapes Eddie packed for you as you bob your head to his guitar solo in your ears. You turn the page again and smile at a lady in a pink dress, and a man in an all-black suit standing next to her, his hand on her hip lightly. It reminds you of Eddie. You imagine him in that suit, his hair resting on his shoulder- or even better, in a man-bun atop his head. 

The metal in your ears dies down slowly with a fading guitar riff and adrenaline shoots through you. If the EP has ended that means that Eddie should have around 15 minutes between sets before performing one of his older albums. He always spends that time with you, even if half of it is him panting harshly from all his stage antics and chugging water to soothe his over-used vocal cords. You don’t mind though, a smile is already on your face at the thought of seeing him- and someone is grabbing you. 

Your skirt is flipped up and thick hands grip your naked ass, groping your cheeks roughly. Your hands rip your headphones from your ears and you’re about to scream when they rest their body on you, pushing the air from your lungs. “It’s me, baby. It’s me. I need you.” 

Eddie’s voice is hot against your ear, fanning over your cheek and you can feel the heat radiating off of his skin. He’s still wearing his jeans but he’s pulled you apart so he’s grinding his clothed crotch over your naked pussy. You don’t usually wear panties to his concerts because afterward, during the afterparty, Eddie tends to whisk you away to a remote location to have his way with you, sometimes he just does whatever he wants in the middle of whatever room you guys are in. You just wanted to make it easier for him. 

This is new though, you guys had discussed it after Eddie saw it on some rock blog he reads from time to time. You were open, you told him that your heart belongs to him so you don’t see any reason why your body shouldn’t as well. He spent the rest of the night fucking you about it but after that, he didn’t bring it up again. You’d almost forgotten about it, but now you can see it’s been on his mind. He’s moaning into your ear, humping his jean-clad cock into your sensitive hole, abusing it with the rough texture. “Eddie.” He moans at the way you say his name and pulls back. 

“Yeah, baby, s’me. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you through the whole set.” You can hear him unzipping his pants behind you and his telltale moan when he finally wraps his hand around his throbbing dick. He jerks himself off to the view of you, spread out on his couch, your little white skirt framing your perfect ass. He can see your lips glistening for him, your pussy crying for his cock, making a mess all over herself. He groans at the sight and digs in, not bothering to prep you one bit. 

You almost scream his name out but he presses his hand to your mouth, his rings digging into your lips painfully but your mind can only focus on the pleasure and the heat of the stretch his cock is causing inside you. Your hands reach behind your head blindly as Eddie rests his body against yours. You’re moaning against his hand raggedly, they rip from the base of your throat and vibrate against Eddie’s other hand that found its home wrapped gently around your neck. Your hands finally find his head and you pull him forward, forcing his head into the crook of your neck and turning your head to his, your eyes pleading and darting to his lips when he looks at you. 

You’re whining behind his hand, wanting desperately to connect your lips to his. He already looks wrecked as he holds your eye contact, he’s groaning and whimpering at you, his eyebrows drawn in and his eyes unfocused as they wander your face. He has no thoughts in his head as he ruts into you, he can’t even take the time to decipher what you’re begging him for. He can feel his orgasm growing in his stomach, brewing like a storm and you’re just feeding it more. You’re whimpering his name behind his hand and his eyes are crossing, doubling his view of you. 

The sight has you moaning loudly into his hand, vibrating his palm as feels the coil in your stomach pull tighter. You moan more desperately, needing to kiss him before cumming and he finally pulls his hand away to force your head into his lips. You’re barely kissing him back, mostly moaning his name and licking into his mouth, trying to swallow everything he can give you, anything that tastes like him. 

He pulls away to moan into your mouth, your jaw slack with the assault of pleasure, with the orgasm that’s burning like a warning in your gut, promising to ruin you once it’s released. Eddie feels the same way, he’s trying to last for you but he knows he’s running out of time and you’re pulsing madly around him. His hips stutter into you as his orgasm begins to overflow, his balls are tightening and shooting pleasure through him every time they smack into you. Your pussy is teasing him at this point, clenching rhythmically like you’re trying to milk him, like you want him to cum in you. 

So he does. His cock explodes inside you and it’s like nothing he’s felt before. It’s not more or less enjoyable, it’s always incredible when he’s with you- but it’s more aggressive. It slams into him, knocking all the air out of his lungs and he could swear that he blacked out, just floating through an abyss of pleasure. You’re whining into his ear and he can feel you trying to cum around him, you’re clenching purposely now, grinding back into his stuttering hips. He knows, he knows you can’t cum without him touching your clit but he doesn’t have enough brain power to even help you… and he doesn’t have to. 

You let out a sob-like whine as Eddie’s hips calm down and he pulls back, already struggling to get his pants back over his legs. “Eddie, I didn’t-” He cuts you off by completely falling off the couch, hitting the floor with a dull thud. He sits back up, level with your face and kisses you with a small smile. “I know.” He stands up, jumping a bit to get his jeans up quicker. “I know, baby, I’m sorry. I’ll help you when I get back I swear.” He blows you a kiss as he rushes out of the room, hearing people calling for him outside the hall. You’re left in silence in his room, panting and desperate as you hear the crowd scream, letting you know he’s already back on stage.  

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[seat-safety-switch]

Running out of gas is pretty embarrassing. The news talks about it a lot more now that the "gas" for many cars is made up of that tingly feeling you get under overhead power lines instead of dead dinosaurs. That makes it even worse when you end up with no dead dinosaurs, despite a convenient and widely-available surplus of places in which to quickly buy them.

Running out of gas close to home is the easy problem to solve. You could walk to the local station, but that's boring. The artful dirtbag relies entirely on scavenging, which works well until all of your thirty or so shitbox 1970s Mopars are all out of gas. That's when you need to step things up a level.

Perhaps you've seen your neighbour's buffed-up Toyota Tundra speeding through a playground zone lately. On the sides of that gargantuan sucker's two thousand dollar bed tent are mounted a thousand dollars worth of fancy jerry cans, to hold extra gas for all his overlanding adventures boondocking in the forest that he never does. He won't notice a missing one: just make sure to get one that's actually full, because I can assure you his monthly payment precludes him from "buying gasoline for looks." Push your shit up to his driveway, pretend to be an off-label Amazon deliveryperson, and help yourself to some petrochemicals.

What happens when you run out of gas far from civilization, though? Doesn't this legitimize Bob Tundra's entire rugged-make-do-survivalist-owning-a-ninety-thousand-dollar-pickup-truck lifestyle? Or at least make you wonder why you didn't bother to check if the gas gauge worked before you tried to drive a new shitbox a thousand miles home? Again, this is a fixable problem. This is why I carry my own piece of survivalist equipment called a "ratchet strap." You simply loop it around the axle of a passing large pickup truck and then hook it on your bumper. Let him tow you home, or at least to the closest gas station (he won't skip many.)

I hope by following these simple tips, you too can avoid being stranded unnecessarily. The largesse of our pickup-truck-owning brethren is ours to share, as long as we don't ask them first or make too much noise drilling a hole in their gas tank (another pro-tip: use a Yankee drill.) Hey, they lifted that truck for a reason. With 8 mpg, they won't even notice it missing.

[jungkookstatts]

Big fan of your work! Since requests are open I was wondering if you may do a jk smut “holy sh*t i think you got ME pregnant” riding and complete  eagerness for jk 🫣

[Summary]: Jungkook is a little too obsessed with the idea of making you his. About making you both his wife and the mother of his kids.

[Theme]: Non-Idol AU (or Idol AU, however, you see it), Established Relationship AU, Pre-Fiances(?) AU

[Rating]: 18+ literally just sex, oral (m receiving), doggy, spitting, choking, ass slapping, hair grabbing, creampie, cockwarming, impreg kink, dom jk, sub reader, literally just vile I'm sorry

[Word Count]: 2,016

[A/N]: This literally took me almost 4 months, I apologize deeply. I also wrote it and then reread your ask and realized I didn't really follow it too much ㅠㅠ I am sorry I hope you still like it. My mind just went "woo-woo sex!!"

Your boyfriend is a big brat. Sometimes, even a bigger brat than you.

This all started because he was being a big cunt driving you home from your date. He took you out to a fancy restaurant for your 3-year anniversary, but for some reason, he was being a complete prick all the way home. Something about how you looked at the waiter a certain way and he didn’t like it.

So now here you are, your silk dress thrown somewhere on his bedroom floor, and your panties ripped down the middle. He’s naked and rock-hard in front of you, looking down at you on display on his sheets.

“You think it’s funny, huh?” your boyfriend smirks, his tongue coming out to lick at his lip piercing.

“I mean, yeah, a little,” you laugh. He’s so pent up, so overworked over nothing. You literally want to marry this man — he has nothing to worry about. It’s funny, but you’re also extremely turned on. Jungkook mad and jealous, is a huge, dangerous combination you can’t help but bend at the knees over in the bedroom.

His eyebrows knit together angrily as he pushes your legs up, his cold fingers sliding up your folds.

“A-ah,” you gasp, wiping the laugh off your face. His long fingers play with you, sliding and circling your juices between your folds.

“Not so funny now, is it?” he chuckles. He inserts a finger into you, and you grab onto his wrist in a useless attempt to calm him down for a moment. But he takes your wrist on his own, pinning it against the bedsheets next to your head. “Am I a joke, hm?” he whispers against your neck. “You think it’s funny to look at other men when I take you out?”

“N-No, Kook,” you swear. “I only look at you.”

“Damn right you do,” he bites your neck harshly, causing you to arch your back into his chest. You know for a fact you’re going to be purple and blue tomorrow. “You’ve got a smart mouth, Y/n,” he smiles against your ear. “Let me fix it for you.”

“K-Kook,” you whine, knowing where this is going.

“Get up,” he demands. You feel your pussy tremble at the look in his eyes. He’s going to torture the shit out of you, and you couldn’t be more excited and scared at the same time.

Your boyfriend sits down at the edge of his bed, spreading his legs and pointing to the space on the ground in between them for you. You fall onto your knees, sliding your hands up his thighs until they’re inches from his swollen cock. He’s so hard — it almost looks painful. But he looks down at you with hooded eyes, smiling devilishly at the events to come.

“Suck it,” he demands. And you do.

With your small hands wrapped around his cock, you give him a test pump before licking a long stripe from base to tip. The sensation has his head falling back, and you feel yourself dripping onto the floor at the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing from pleasure. You put him into your mouth, your tongue flattening against his frenulum so deliciously, that he grabs your hair in his fist and pushes you down further. The action causes you to gag, not ready for the sudden change in pace. But you accept it graciously, adjusting to his length in your mouth as you move with the pace his hand on your hair sets for you.

It’s always hard to adjust to him. You hate to admit it, but your big-brat boyfriend has a big-brat cock. You don’t think in the three years you’ve dated him you’ve been able to call yourself “used” to his size. But he likes it rough. He warned you when you said you didn’t like rough sex all those years ago that he’d change your mind. And boy, has he. You’re an absolute slut for this man, and he gets a tiny ego boost every time you submit yourself to him like this.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxes you.

You bob your head onto him, looking up at him with your full mouth, eyes watery and big. He almost cums at the sight, pushing you off for a moment to compose himself.

You come off with a pop, a messy line of spit connecting your mouth to his dick.

He grabs your jaw with his palm, his thumb jutting into your mouth. You take his thumb in your hand, enclosing it around your lips and sucking on it just as you sucked his dick.

“Open,” he demands again. You do, opening your mouth and pushing your tongue out. Your boyfriend leans forward, taking your chin in his fingertips, and spits into your mouth. You smile, giggling with a mouth full of his spit when he slightly sits back, looking at all of you. He was about to say something, but you lean into him, taking his dick into your mouth again and sucking him harder and faster.

“A-ah-Y/n,” he moans quietly, although his grip on your hair returns harshly. “Ffuckkk—hah.”

He nearly laughs at the pleasure; you’re so perfect for him it’s funny. You know every single one of his pleasures, and he knows you do when you begin to play with the skin between his balls and cock as you fuck him with your mouth. The sensation has him pulling you off his cock again for good, himself on the edge of release.

“Get on the bed,” he pants.

“How?” you ask, resting your hands on his thighs. He leans forward again, but this time his hand comes around your neck, choking you a little more harshly than you expected. Your eyes search for him, completely lust-filled and intense.

“How I like you best,” he whispers against your lips. You lean in to kiss him, but he pulls away, teasing you in the most evil way possible.

You pout, but get up on your feet and lay down front-first against the sheets. You feel him come up behind you, touching the back of your thighs softly, gliding his hands up your skin until they meet the round of your ass. You listen to him moan softly as he spreads them apart, taking a good look at your swollen, dripping cunt.

“God, you’re so wet,” he nearly whines. “You gonna let me knock you up, sweetheart?”

“Mmhm,” you whine. The anticipation of his cock inside of you is getting too intense, and you wiggle your ass at him in an attempt to get him to get a move on. But he only slaps your ass hard, surely leaving a handprint. You gasp sharply, toes curling at the surprise.

“Fuck, I want to put a baby in you so bad,” he slaps your ass again. “Wanna show everyone how swollen I’ve made you. That you’re carrying my baby because you’re my girl.”

“J-Jungkook,” you gasp as he lands a third harsh slap on your ass. You almost feel like you might cum — he’s always hinted at wanting kids with you, but hasn’t really brought it to the bedroom. It’s hot, to say the very least. That, and the combination of his big hand slapping your ass.

“No one would question you’re mine,” he grabs your hips, pulling them up into the air where he situates the tip of his dick against your cunt. “You’d be too busy having my babies to give anyone else a glance other than me.”

You open your mouth to say something, but he’s already pushing inside of you, stretching you so well like how he always does. You fold your arms in the space above your head, arching your back into him as he slowly bottoms out. This position always allows his cock to kiss your cervix so delicately, you squirm knowing he’s going to pump you so good once he’s finished.

“Fuck,” he spits, panting at the sheer feeling of your walls around him. “Y-You good?”

You just moan against his pillows, nodding your head as you push your hips back, slipping further into him than you were before. Jungkook grabs your hips tightly, pressing his fingertips harshly into your skin as he pulls out and slams back in with force. You moan loudly into the fabric, but Jungkook pays you no mind, pushing your head further into the sheets as he fucks you like a demon.

His hips slap against yours, and you find yourself coming undone within minutes of his torture on you. The man behind you only laughs, his thrusts becoming harder, trying to push past the absolute grip you have on his cock from your orgasm.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, head lulling back in disbelief. “You’re all mine,” he grabs your ass harshly before landing another slap onto it. “Say it, Y/n. Say you’re mine. Say you belong to me.”

“Koo,” you tremble, completely overstimulated from your orgasm.

“Dammit,” he grips your hair in his fist, forcing you to look up. His body looms over yours, his breath tickling your ear as he demands again, “Say it.”

“I’m yours, Koo,” you whine. “I’m all yours; only yours.”

He grunts in your ear at your words, dick slightly twitching inside of you. The way you say his name sounds so sweet. He never wants to hear his name from another pair of lips. It only sounds right when it’s coming from you. The thought of you being his forever, of the diamond ring sitting in the top drawer of his closet wardrobe, looms over him. God, he can’t wait. He’s so eager and so very impatient. He wants you, he wants you as his — as his wife and the mother of his children — so badly, he can almost taste it. He wants to be your husband already.

“Fuck, dammit,” he curses, head resting against the back of your shoulder. He still fucks into you, hips unrelenting and only quickening with the orgasm he denied of himself just a while ago while you were sucking him off looming over his head. “M’ gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, baby,” you permit him. Your voice sounds like honey in his ears, and you find yourself cumming for a second time when his thick, hot ropes spill into you. It’s so much — his sweet voice filling your ear as pleasure takes over his body, the way his cum pumps into you filling you with so much of him you feel so full and used.

“A-ah, Y/n,” he says softly, kissing your shoulder with wet, soft kisses. “Fuck, you’re so good to me.”

“I love you,” you respond as your knees give out on you. He simply falls on top of you, letting you lie down with his cock buried deep inside of you. He plugs you up, even though he’s softening slowly by the minute.

“I love you, too,” he smiles.

“I think you might have gotten me pregnant,” you slightly turn your head toward him. Your boyfriend comes up to you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I guess we’ll find out,” he smiles gently.

“You’re fine with that?” you ask him, a little surprised.

“Yeah,” he hides his face in the crook of your neck. “I want like…an entire army of children with you, so I’m completely fine with that idea.”

“I’m not having more than two kids,” you scoff.

He simply looks at you with his bunny eyes, feeling embarrassed by his eagerness.

“Maybe three, but that is pushing it,” you change your mind. Fuck, this man has you wrapped around his finger.

“Regardless, I’m gonna make you mine,” he says surely, turning you on his back.

“I am yours,” you confirm as you push the hair out of his face.

“Officially,” he corrects you.

You don’t even have to ask what he means by that when he stares at your ring finger gently before kissing you into the pillows, the hand on your waist slowly tracing circles on your lower stomach with his thumb.

----

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]