#it could also just be comfortable for them too who knows but i like this idea

[em1i2a3]

I Wanna Get Lost With You

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry/The Void x Stark!Thunderbolt!Reader

Summary: After a rough night, you find yourself with a rare day off–the one that you take on the same day every year in memoriam for the fallen. So you head into the city to spend your feelings away on the only thing that makes sense to you: gifts for your favourite team of scrappy anti-heros…And Bob.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Spoilers for Thunderbolts because everyone from Thunderbolts is in this and is involved and there is events from the movie that are mentioned :). Fluff, a hint of angst (because of the reader having a rough night…and a rough couple of years in general), Brief Mentioning of Grief and Loss, Bucky is kind of a reluctant father figure to the reader, Bob is Bob and he’s a softie who’s seen it all, Reader and Bob have an established friendship, Smut.

Smut Warnings: Hot and Heavy Makeout Session, Grinding, Cuddling with Some ✨Spice ✨(ahem…Fingering and handjobs lol), Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up y’all, you know the drill), Bob is a softie, reader knows what she likes (a bit of a soft dominant vibe but not really). This is like a mix of comfort sex, and like purely desperate sex, you’ll see, you’ll see. Lol, Aftercare (because that’s hot too)

Author’s Note: This request was given to me by @xlittlemissydjx and I just had to do it when I read it (I also accidentally deleted the request by accident lol). I really expanded the landscape of it though, but I hope it meets what you were looking for :). Thanks I know I have a lot of pending part 2’s of one-shots, but I really couldn’t resist the opportunity to put a little bit of everything into this story, Angst, Fluff, and Smut. The holy trinity lol. Enjoy :))

Note About Requests!!!: I’m working through them! I have about 14 things I need to do! So be patient! They should all be done at varying times within the next week and a half (I get in the zone enough to get two a day out so hopefully that can help!)

Word Count: 18,416 (…Wow)

You had been tossing and turning all night, and it showed the second you stepped into the kitchen that morning. It was written in the heaviness of your steps, the way you continuously readjusted your sweater as if it was too tight–even though it was two sizes too big–, and it was painted across your eyes with the faint smudge of exhaustion that clung to the corners of them.

You had your tells–the little things that gave it away, and the team knew all of them. They knew when you didn’t get enough sleep, or when you didn’t get any sleep at all. You didn’t even have to say a word to them, they could just gauge it from your facial expressions. If you weren’t your usual chirpy self–the version of you that compensated your sadness with jokes and filled the room with noise–they knew what they were in for.

And today? You hadn’t said a word.

The moment you walked into the kitchen though you were pulled into the chaotic scene unfolding in front of you, as the scent of scorched butter hit your nose.

“I told you to spray the pan, Bob. Did you spray it or not?” Walker’s voice rang out, sharp with his distinct signature brand of early-morning frustration. He stood by the oven, hunched over it with a spatula in his hand wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a “Grill Sergeant” apron. Bob stood a few feet away, sheepish and visibly wilting by the tone that Walker was taking with him. His shoulders were hunched forward, and his fingers were busy wringing the hem of his flour-streaked sweater–the nervous habit he hadn’t kicked.

Over the past few weeks, Bob had started volunteering for kitchen duty more and more–not because he was good at it, because unfortunately he wasn’t and everyone had learned it the hard way–but because he liked the idea of it. Of helping. Of contributing back to the compound as he was in his recovery process from his incident in New York. He had also mentioned to you in passing that it helped him feel like he was normal again, and it reminded him of the simpler times.

But now, with flour scattered everywhere, batter dripping down the front of the counter, and Walker looming over him with the interrogating questions, he was clearly second-guessing his life choices.

”I…I thought I did.” He mumbled, looking around the kitchen, “I could’ve sworn I had the can in my hand.” He whispered, confused.

”Then what happened, hm?” Walker questioned, “Did the damn thing disappear out of your hand or something?” You reached up to rub the tiredness out of your eyes, letting out a sigh, which got the room's attention almost instantly–like you sucked the air out of it.

“Walker, what have I said about taking it easy on Bob, for the love of God.” Your voice wasn’t loud, because it didn’t need to be. Even with being the youngest in the group, you were seasoned enough to be feared, especially by Walker–which was always surprising for the ones who would see the both of you interact.

Bob looked over at you immediately the moment your voice broke through the room–firm and quiet, how you always were–and just like that, his posture shifted. Not completely–he was still wringing the hem of his sweater and looking sheepish–but something in him softened.

You always did that to him. You walked into a room, and it was like the gravity in the room shifted. You were never loud with him, your energy was controlled, but even if you were the loud person that you were around the others, Bob still lit up, in the same way a quiet house lights up when someone finally opens the blinds. His breathing got a little easier. His shoulders dropped just a little lower. Like he knew–even without words–that if anything ever went wrong, you’d be there to shield him from the worst of it.

And you always were, since the day you met in the O.X.E Vault, the day things changed for you–for the better of course.

You defended him the way no one else really did. The way nobody else really could replicate. You caught every nervous tick he had, you knew when to pull him out of situations he couldn’t handle, and you filled in his silences when he got overwhelmed and went quiet, answering hard questions for him with that calm, dry tone that let everyone know there were lines that were crossed.

You didn’t baby him, but you stood with him.

And Bob–who had spent so much of his life being pushed to the side, forgotten, or abused–had never really known what it was like to be protected like that, and he paid you back in the only way he knew how; by being your constant. A little planet in your very tight orbit, always trying, always showing up, always offering whatever soft, steady care he could muster.

You would say you took care of him in public, and he took care of you in private.

You’d never talked about it–not in direct words–but the arrangement was understood. He knew when to slip a cup of tea into your hand on the nights when your hands shook too hard to make one yourself. You knew when to plant yourself between him and a room full of sharp voices. He knew when to knock gently on your door and ask if you’d eaten. You knew when to tug him by the sleeve and get him out of conversations that made his breath short and his voice crack.

‘Hey, there’s only so many ruined breakfasts a man can take before he snaps.” Walker replied, holding up the pan that had what looked to be a burnt pancake glued onto it, “Look at what he did. This is literally my last one.” You didn’t even flinch. You gave the pancake a passing glance, then turned your attention back to Walker, your arms loosely crossing over your chest.

”And yet somehow the world keeps spinning, Walker. Why didn’t you take the harder stuff if you knew there was a possibility of Bob ruining your prized pan?” There was a long pause, until Walker held his hands up in mock surrender.

”Fine…Fine…You’re right. I’m sorry.” You raised an eyebrow.

”And apologize to Bob.” You added, watching Walker glance sideways at him.

”Sorry, Bob.” Bob gave a quick, awkward nod.

”It’s okay…” He whispered under his breath.

You didn’t wait for the rest of the interaction to be done, as you walked from the entrance of the kitchen and made your way toward the fridge, cracking the door open to grab a chilled bottle of water. The cold bit into your palm–and you lingered there for a moment, letting the cool air brush over your skin before closing the door again.

You stepped towards Bob then.

”You good?” You asked, voice low now, like it was just meant for him. He nodded, hesitating for only a breath.

”Yeah…I-I didn’t mean to screw things up so badly…I was just trying to help.” You let out a quiet sigh. The kind that carried the tail-end of exhaustion and affection at the same time, in equal measures, giving Walker a death stare, before reaching out to Bob, patting the side of his arm. It wasn’t too soft, nor too hard–it was just right to comfort him.

“Well,” You murmured, letting a touch of warmth back into your voice, “Go help by setting up the table, okay? I’ll order some food for everyone, and if you hear Walker screaming for his life, just ignore it.” This drew out a laugh from Bob–small and unguarded, a little surprised, like he hadn’t expected it to break free from his mouth in the way it did. It wasn’t loud, but it was full-bodied and real, the kind that deepened the flush that was always on his cheeks. Walker furrowed his brow from where he stood.

”What was that?” You didn’t answer him, you were already pulling your phone from the front pocket of your father’s hoodie, tapping through the food delivery app with the kind of speed that only came from someone who routinely cleaned up the emotional aftermath of other people’s messes.

”Nothing, I was just telling Bob I’m ordering breakfast for everyone, hope you like hash browns.” You said flatly, your tone disinterested as your thumb hovered over your usual go-to breakfast place, the one that you used to go to on your birthday.

Bob, still smiling faintly to himself, took this as his cue to duck out of the kitchen without another word, moving towards the dining area with a new sense of purpose. Walker watched him for a second as he left the room, leaving the two of you alone together, before shaking his head.

”You’re too soft on him.” You didn’t look up from your phone as you added seven orders of bacon to the cart.

”I’m just going to give you a friendly reminder that he helped us out of the Void and bought us time to save him, and another reminder that he saved our lives at the vault too. We owe him the softness, and the stability.” Walker sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was trying to physically scratch the tension out of his spine.

”Still. The guy’s not made of glass. I think you forget that he beat the shit out of us in this very tower.” He shot back, which made you look up from your phone.

”That was the Sentry. You know that. And you only bring that up because you’re still butthurt that your shield hasn’t been fixed.” Walker grunted, caught somewhere between irritation and reluctant defeat. He shook his head again, slower this time, then dropped his spatula into the sink.

”Fine…You win.” He muttered.

”I always do,” You replied, looking back down at your phone to add three extra croissants to the order just in case someone got picky, going to check out.

”You gonna be in the training room later, thought we could spar together.” You paused for a second, glancing up at him for a moment, before processing your order and locking your phone, sliding it back into the hoodie pocket.

”No,” You said simply, turning the cap off your water, taking a quick sip, letting the coolness spread across your chest, “It’s my day off.” You added, which caught his attention immediately.

”Off? You don’t take days off.”

“I do today, we haven’t known each other long enough for you to see me take a day off anyways…So why is this such a surprise?”Walker furrowed his brow a bit.

”It’s just a bit weird, taking a random Tuesday off, what’s the occasion?” You met his eyes, almost annoyed by the line of questioning.

“It’s just for me, that’s all.”

——————-

After cleaning up everyone’s plates after breakfast, you collected your keys from the dish on the counter and slipped them into your pocket. No one questioned you. No one stopped you.

Bob had been in the middle of rinsing out the orange juice glasses, sleeves damp with his concentration fixed on the smallest marks, like he was trying not to think too hard. You gave him a soft pat on the back as you passed. He didn’t turn, but you felt the way he leaned into it, a silent acknowledgement.

You didn’t say goodbye. It wasn’t that kind of day.

Instead, you made your way down the corridor, past the glass-paneled lounge where Yelena and Ava were arguing over something that sounded like movie night logistics, and past the half-lit training room where the mats were still scuffed from the week before.

The elevator greeted you with a soft ding, and you stepped inside, pressing the button for the main lobby, knowing you had to make a stop before travelling into the heart of the city. The doors slid shut in front of you, sealing off the noise of the compound, and the silence that followed settled in your chest. The elevator hummed quietly beneath your feet, the numbers ticking down slower than usual, like it knew what kind of day it was for you.

When the doors finally opened, the lobby was quiet. You stepped out quickly, turning on your heel to go down the hallway that was right beside the elevator. It was silent, cleaner than the rest of the compound, and dimmer–there was less foot traffic so that’s why it was normally lit like a mortuary. The air down this hall always felt heavier, because it was the lead up to something you visited frequently.

Your boots echoed against the polished tile, until the corridor opened into the memorial wing. A long, curved hall with framed photos and holographic projections lining both sides–names etched into the glass like ghosts.

The “Hall of the Fallen,” they called it. A name you hated to say out loud, because to you they were your people.

The entire wing had only come to be because you forced it into existence. During the final round of renovations, when Valentina wanted the east wing reserved for press briefings and high-tech sparring simulations, you had walked into her office, dropped a folder full of lawsuit drafts onto her desk, and told her plainly that if your father didn’t have a place in this building, neither would you. You knew you sounded out of line, but because the tower used to be his, you thought the leverage would be something to hold over her head.

“I will sue you into the sun,” You had said calmly, “And I’ll have Pepper on the line within the hour to back me.”

So she relented.

And now… Here it was.

Each section of the wall was backlit in soft amber light. Not cold and sterile, but warm–like candlelight. Like the kind of lighting your dad always insisted on in the Tower because he said it was more comforting and less lab-like.

Your eyes tracked instinctively toward the far right. You never had to look for it, because you knew exactly where he was, call it a daughterly instinct.

The large framed photograph of Tony Stark stood in front of you. No helmet, no Iron Man suit. Just him, in a slightly crooked tie and a hand resting on your shoulder. The image had been cropped, but you remembered where this was taken. He’d been giving a press conference and you snuck up beside him mid-speech. He had rolled his eyes and laughed, pulling you into the shot like it was nothing.

You slowly stepped forward, putting out your hand to reach for him, but before you could, you noticed someone already standing near the center of the hallway, facing a different frame.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Hands tucked deep in his jacket pockets, hair slicked back like he was going for a meeting…Bucky.

He didn’t turn at the sound of your steps. He didn’t have to. He knew you would be here. It was the anniversary of your fathers death after all.

He was standing in front of Steve’s photo–head slightly bowed, jaw clenched, like the weight of all the memories he had with him had curled itself around his spine and wouldn’t let go.

You approached him slowly, your boots muffled now by the soft carpet that lined the central arc of the memorial wing. Bucky hadn’t moved, his eyes were locked on the image of Steve–clean-cut, square-jawed, with his warm smile forever frozen in time. You stopped beside him to stand shoulder to shoulder.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything, you just stared at the photo, breathing deeply, in reflection of the moments you all got together. After a minute you cleared your throat, pushing the lump to the side so you could speak.

”You missed breakfast.” Bucky let out a slow breath through his nose.

”Didn’t really feel like having pancakes today.” You cracked a small smile.

”Wasn’t pancakes…Bob ruined Walker's last pan by burning them.” His lip twitched just a little.

“Sounds like I didn’t miss much then.” He said, the ghost of a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth before fading again. The silence between you returned, but it wasn’t empty–it was heavy. Full of everything neither of you had ever needed to say out loud.

Your eyes lingered on the picture of Steve for a moment, before shifting sideways to study Bucky instead. He looked older in this light. Not tired–just…Quieter. Softer around the edges in a way that only grief can carve into a man.

“How long have you been down here?” You asked.

”About thirty minutes, I had a meeting today actually so that’s also why I missed breakfast.” Bucky shifted his weight slightly, eyes still trained on the photo, “Didn’t think I’d end up staying this long, but you know…Memories make you lose track of time.” You nodded slowly, getting a bit closer to him, slipping your arm into his, feeling the coolness of his vibranium radiating through his jacket. He let out a slow, steady exhale, letting your hand rest there, and in that small gesture, you felt the quiet return of the role he’d carved out between the both of you–it was reluctant at first, but unshakable now.

”You know…” You murmured after a beat, “He would’ve been really proud of you.” Bucky didn’t speak right away, but you could see his jaw clench at your words, before nodding.

”Tony would’ve been proud of you too.” That made you scoff, but softly. You looked down at your boots, your fingers curling slightly around the curve of his arm.

”Definitely not,” You said with a dry laugh, “I don’t think he ever intended on me being on a team like this…Or carrying on his legacy at all, really. Especially not with how I started this…With Val and everything.” You added.

”We all do stupid things sometimes, but now you’re a part of something bigger than yourself. I’m telling you…He would’ve been very happy to see you in action.” You looked down at your feet, with a soft smile coming up on your face before nodding.

It hit you again–like it always did this time of year–that Bucky had become the closest thing you had left to family. Apart from Pepper and Morgan, he was the only one that truly stood by you. This year was different of course, especially with your new teammates, but it made you think back to how far the both of you truly came.

Because it never started that way. In fact, you didn’t think Bucky would’ve offered you the protection he did. He was quiet and watchful, always keeping people at arm’s length. But something changed at your father’s funeral.

He found you that day–after the speeches and the silence, after Pepper had walked Morgan inside of the house to make her some food and Rhodes offered his condolences. You were standing by the water, not crying, just looking out onto the way the sun was setting, wearing one of Tony’s old jackets because it still smelled like his aftershave.

You didn’t even hear Bucky approach until he was beside you, and when he spoke, it was the only thing that had cut through the fog in your brain that day.

“If you ever need anything…” He said, quietly, like it wasn’t a promise he had been planning to make, “Anything at all…I’m one phone call away. No questions asked.” You had looked up at him, surprised that he was even talking to you, especially after everything that had happened between him and your father, but all you did was give him a nod, and a thank you.

Then, four years later, when you found yourself stuck in the desert with Walker, Ava, and Yelena, after escaping the death trap that was the O.X.E. Vault, and witnessing Bob turn into a human asteroid, you had pulled out your phone and dialed his number.

You remembered the look on Walker’s face as you pulled out your phone and started dialing.

”Who the hell are you calling in the middle of the desert?” You looked up at him, shielding your phone away from him.

”My emergency contact…Someone who’s not going to let us die out here.” You muttered, putting the phone to your ear. It only had to ring once, before he picked it up.

”Y/N, hey, you think I can call you back in a few minutes.” He said, like he was in a rush, like he was packing.

”Bucky, I’m in trouble.” Walker’s face had immediately dropped, his mouth opening slightly. Yelena had seen the look, and she had whispered something to him, not understanding the visceral reaction.

“Bucky!?” Walker exclaimed, you looked over at him confused, pressing your finger to your lips–afraid that his voice would echo through the open space and gain some sort of attention possibly.

”…Y/N…Was that John Walker's voice that I just heard?” Your brows furrowed, still trying to piece together what the hell was happening.

“Y-Yeah. Listen, we don’t have time to go into details because I need to conserve my battery, but we are in a desert in Utah, and we’re lost. I need you to help me…Will you please help me?” He had already been packing his motorcycle to start making his way over after receiving a call from Mel with her coordinates, and immediately he started connecting the dots that you were somehow involved. Before the line of questioning even left his lips, he remembered what he told you at the funeral and reluctantly spoke.

”Okay. I’ll track your coordinates and be there as fast as I can, just…For the love of God stay safe.” You nodded.

”I will, I’ll see you soon…Thank you Bucky.” Then you hung up the phone.

”How the fuck do you know Bucky Barnes?!” Was the first question out of Walker's mouth.

Then all the details were out in the open for everyone to know; how you knew him, how you were Tony’s daughter, how you joined Val’s list of operatives because you felt like you wanted to do something and she offered it to keep you busy. You were surprised that your identity wasn’t known to the group, so it was a relief when they quietly gave a nod to you almost as if to say they were sorry for even asking. Then the unplanned limo pickup from Alexei had happened, which intruded on the plans a little bit and ended with you having to reset your own shoulder, but to be reunited with Bucky Barnes was a heaven sent.

“Been watching you on TV at those congress hearings, congratulations by the way.” He let out a soft laugh at that comment, adjusting your shoulder into the proper position.

”Yeah well…I guess a lot of unexpected things have happened over the past couple of years.” He said, still a bit concerned with the details on how you somehow got wrapped up in all of this. But once again, he said no questions asked and he stuck to it.

Now as you stood side by side today though, it was easy to say that he was like a father figure you never thought you would have again, and you were grateful for all of it, regardless of how it fell into place.

”…I sometimes wish he got to see me with you guys too…” You whispered, breaking the silence. Bucky glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

”I’m telling you, he would’ve liked it. Sometimes when I see you at briefings you have the same mannerisms he had, same attitude and stuff. I was never really around him but I heard stories from Steve. It’s like you’re a carbon copy of him in female form.” That drew a soft laugh out of you.

“While I do appreciate being compared to him, I can never be as good.” There was a pause, and he sighed.

”There’s no ‘good’ kid…You’re doing the best you can with the cards you’ve been dealt. And I’m proud of you, we all are, even though none of us really say it often enough.” Bucky’s words settled into your chest like something warm and grounding, something heavy in the best possible way. You blinked a few times, swallowing the knot in your throat before it could turn into something embarrassing, and that’s when an idea popped into your mind.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment longer, just breathing. Just being.

Then, slowly–almost uncertain–Bucky shifted, and his arm moved around your shoulders. He didn’t pull you in abruptly. He didn’t force the moment. It was gentle. Intentional. Like he was offering the hug, not giving it. It was something Bucky rarely did, but in a moment where comfort was needed he would push the discomfort off for you.

You leaned into it immediately.

Your arms came around his middle, anchoring yourself to the familiar weight of him. You didn’t close your eyes, but you let your cheek rest against his chest and took a breath. He smelled like leather and clean soap, and the faint trace of a piney cologne he always insisted he didn’t wear. You both stayed like that for a few beats–just enough to feel steady again.

“Thanks Buck,” You mumbled, your voice quiet.

“Anytime,” He replied, equally soft.

You pulled back, brushing your sleeve against your face subtly wiping a small tear that was forming in the corner of your eye as you stepped away.

“Alright…Enough with the sappiness…” You sighed, your tone turning a bit lighter now, “I’m heading into the city to do a bit of shopping therapy…” Bucky arched an eyebrow.

”Shopping therapy huh? Guess it’s better than drinking. And you’re going without your second shadow?” You looked at him confused.

”Who?” Bucky gave you a look, one of those deadpan, all-knowing stares.

”Bob,” He responded, “You think he’s not going to notice that you’re gone for the whole day?” A guilty grin tugged at the corner of your mouth. Everyone knew how close you were to him, but Bucky was the one person to know how deep it truly went, how much Bob actually knew about you, down to the little details, and the darkest parts.

”I slipped out while he was rinsing the glasses, I figure I’ll have about an hour of radio silence until someone calls to tell me he’s looking for me.” Bucky huffed a dry laugh through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

“I’ll shoot let him know of my whereabouts in a bit…Don’t worry.” You promised, stuffing your hands into your hoodie pocket. “Just wanted a little time to myself. Got an idea I need to run with, and I think it’ll help.”

He didn’t press for more. He never did. That was the good thing about Bucky–he could read you like a book, but he only turned the pages when you were ready.

“Well,” he said after a moment, adjusting the collar of his jacket, “Don’t get lost in any candle shops.”

“No promises.”

You turned to go, but paused halfway down the hall and glanced back. He was still standing there in front of Steve’s photo, hands back in his pockets, eyes distant. You softened.

“I’ll be back later tonight. Might be close to dinner, maybe after. But tell the others not to start movie night without me.”

Bucky nodded, glancing over his shoulder.

“They’ll wait,” He said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You offered him a small smile–one of the rare, real ones–and gave a little wave as you turned and headed out.

The elevator doors closed behind you with a soft ding, and for the first time that day, you felt the flicker of excitement hum through your chest. You weren’t sure exactly what you were looking for yet–but you were going to find something for each of them. Something thoughtful. Something that said thank you for being here, for staying, for putting up with me.

Even if you’d never say it out loud.

———————

You had returned that night thirty minutes after dinner was wrapping up. Everyone was still mingling in the kitchen, the remnants of takeout cartons and half-eaten desserts scattered across the island, but when the elevator dinged, every head instinctively turned toward the hallway.

When the doors slid open and you stepped out–flanked by two interns struggling with your overflow of tissue-paper-filled bags–you didn’t even get a full step before you called out.

“Everyone stay in the kitchen! No peeking!” You warned, your voice commanding but playful. “I’m serious, if I catch one head in that hallway, I’m throwing dessert in the trash.”

That got a ripple of muffled laughter from the group.

“You act like we don’t eat dessert before dinner,” Yelena shouted back.

Despite your warning though, Bob didn’t get the memo.

You barely made it halfway to the living room, with the interns trailing behind you, when the sound of socked feet came pattering rapidly around the corner.

Bob appeared, cheeks flushed, his light brown hair a little mussed, his eyes wide and brimming with unfiltered concern. He wore a pair of black sweat pants and an oversized dark grey sweater that covered his broad frame, it made him look fragile and small–even though beneath his clothes it was far from the image he was trying to portray. You had caught glimpses of his body in little increments, sometimes by accident you would walk in as he was pulling on his shirt and you’d catch the lean muscles on his back flexing, once you saw his abs when he reached up to grab something, and once in a while you’d catch him with his sleeves rolled up, and you’d see the cool blue veins that rose from the planes of his forearms. Sometimes you wished you’d see more of him, but you were fine with what you had the privilege of seeing. He looked like he’d been waiting by the kitchen threshold all evening, just listening for the elevator.

“Hey—are you okay?” He asked, his voice already rushing. “I—I remembered what day it was, and I didn’t know if you wanted space or if you wanted company, but then you left without saying anything and I didn’t wanna crowd you but—”

“Bob!” You cut in quickly, spinning around to shield the bags with your body. “Close your eyes!” He startled like someone had set off a firecracker behind him.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He blurted, immediately slapping his hands over his face. “I didn’t see anything! I swear…I only saw you, not the-uh-the stuff-whatever the stuff is…”

You let out a long sigh, shaking your head as one of the interns behind you adjusted their grip on a delicate gift bag.

“Here,” You whispered to them, handing off what you were holding. “Take these into the living room...And thank you again for the help, oh and make sure the box is put in my room okay? First on the right.”

“No problem.” The intern nodded, already moving with the caution of someone who had been thoroughly briefed with the other intern trailing behind.

Once your hands were free, you turned back to Bob. He stood perfectly still with his palms mashed over his face like a kid in a surprise party gone wrong–lips pressed into a worried line, shoulders a little too rigid. You let out a soft sigh, stepping towards him–knowing you scared him a bit– and reached up for his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face slowly.

”You can open your eyes now…I didn’t mean to scare you…I just have a surprise for everyone. Sorry…” You said gently, watching as his lashes fluttered open, his eyes instantly meeting yours, with that all too familiar look–soft and worried and wired, like he had been on the edge of his seat waiting for your return.

”I-It’s okay…I was just…I was w-worried about y-you. I remembered what today was after Walker mentioned to me that you took the day off…And I felt like such an idiot f-for not che-.” Bob’s words halted immediately when your fingers touched his lips–just two of them, soft but still–to quietly tell him to stop talking. His breath caught in his throat, and you could feel the way his shoulders tensed under your touch, frozen like a deer in headlights. His eyes went wide, and then slowly his cheeks flushed a deep, unmistakable red, blooming from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears.

It was the kind of color that told you everything without a word.

You didn’t tease him for it. You didn’t move your hand right away either.

You just held his gaze, steady and gentle, letting the silence do the heavy lifting.

“I’m okay,” You whispered, your voice barely audible above the distant murmur of the others in the kitchen. “Really.”

His brows drew together just slightly, like he didn’t believe you entirely, like he was still cataloguing every detail of your expression for proof. But your hand stayed right there between you, steadying the weight that always seemed to pile up in his chest when he couldn’t fix things, or make you feel better.

You felt him breathe in–and that tiny shift, that barely-there exhale through his nose, was the signal that he heard you. That he believed you…Even if just for now.

You slowly dropped your hand, the warmth of your fingers leaving his skin with the ghost of your touch. He blinked, like coming out of a daze, and looked like he didn’t quite know what to do.

“Okay,” He said quietly. He was still flushed, avoiding your eyes, knowing that he just had to take your word for it, even though he knew how much this day was a dark reminder of what you were most ashamed of.

He only knew this because he had seen it.

In the O.X.E vault, after you, Walker, Ava, Yelena, and Bob had barely escaped the incinerator, you had all collapsed into a breathless heap in one of the elevator areas., sweaty, and rattling with adrenaline. No one celebrated. It was too soon for that. Tension still clung to the air like smoke, and the five of you were still strangers.

You had sat against a wall, jaw clenched, blinking through the pain that was radiating from your ribs. The quietness was deafening.

Yelena hadn’t moved much. She sat cross-legged on the far end of the room, her elbows on her knees, and her sharp eyes trained on Bob–who was pacing a few feet away, muttering under his breath. His hands trembled slightly, and his voice barely registered above a whisper, like he was listing something he didn’t want to forget. You couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but just watching him pace in that mint green scrub set, made you tense up, there was just a feeling in those moments that something was wrong.

That’s when you noticed Yelena’s expression. Not skeptical. Not calculating. Just…off.

You pushed yourself to your feet, wincing as your ribs protested, and made your way toward her. She didn’t look up until you crouched beside her.

“What’s going on?” You asked, voice low, “You hurt or something?” Her eyes didn’t leave Bob, when she shook her head at your question.

“I need you to touch him.” She whispered under her breath.

“Touch who?” You asked, shifting on your feet a bit, confused at what she was saying to you.

“Bob.” Her voice was even, but her brows furrowed. “I saw something…But I need to know if I’m just going crazy or if it was real.” You could feel yourself grow more and more concerned just by how shaken up she looked.

”Yelena…What did you see?” She shook her head at you.

”Can you just go do it? Please.” You stared at her for a second longer, then nodded. You didn’t understand it, but something in her voice had pulled up, like she was scared of something. You stood up and dusted your palms off, turning around to approach Bob, who was still pacing back and forth, taking four steps before turning and doing the same towards the other side, whispering to himself still.

Walker and Ava were still talking, strategizing how you were all going to get out, and neither of them noticed when you moved past them. Bob didn’t hear you coming either, he was too wrapped up in his own storm to even see your slow approach.

”Hey,” You said gently. He startled almost immediately, his eyes snapping to you like you had dropped him in a pot of ice cold water, “Do you mind coming with me for a second?”

“I-I’m f-fine.” He replied quickly, a reflexive panic in his voice, like he had done something bad, and he was afraid of being punished. You gave him a soft smile though, almost like you knew you needed to make yourself a little less aggressive, especially after he had seen you go head to head with Walker over something so minor you couldn’t even remember..

”I know, I just want to check something, okay?” He looked down at you with such hesitation that you honestly thought he was going to say no, but even back then he had a distinct soft spot reserved for you. His eyes were an odd shade of blue that day, and you had seen distinct little flecks of what seemed to be an off yellow peering through. Back then you chalked it up to being the lighting.

”…Okay.” He whispered. You gave him a little smile, and took hold of the sleeve of his scrub top, leading him towards the side of one of the concrete pillars, just far enough to shield you both from the rest of the group. The tension in Bob’s shoulders hadn’t eased. If anything, being pulled away from the others made him more rigid, as if you were going to reprimand him.

“You hurt anywhere?” You asked, nodding toward his chest, his ribs, his shoulders.

“No…No…I mean, not really j-just some scratches and stuff b-but I’m okay, r-really.” You squinted at him, and you could see the way his breath hitched in his throat a little, like he was nervous or trying to hide something. Your eyes scanned over his dust covered face, watching him shift uncomfortably, as if being under your gaze felt like he was being smothered.

“Mind if I check?” He looked like he wanted to say no, like he wanted to tell you he was fine again so he could go back to his pacing, but instead, after a beat of hesitation, lifted his arm up slowly to you, with his palm up.

You reached forward slowly, and grabbed his hand.

Then everything slipped.

The world around you–the gritty concrete, the stale air, the faint hum of the vault’s broken systems–all vanished in an instant, replaced by heat, light, and the faint crackle of fire.

Your body didn’t move, but your heart slammed like it was being punched. You knew this place. The ruined battlefield. The shattered husk of the Avengers compound after the snap had been reversed. Twilight bleeding across rubble. Smoke curling in the air. The air was so thick it clung to your skin like regret.

You saw them–Peter, Pepper, Rhodey. All of them gathered around the figure on the ground.

And there he was.

Your father.

Collapsed. Barely breathing. The right side of his face blistered from the energy surge of the Infinity Stones. His arc reactor flickering like the dying heartbeat it had become. His mouth was slack, his breathing shallow.

He was dying.

And you were nowhere near him.

But you had been. You remembered it clearly now, clearer than ever–how you had stepped forward when they pulled him from the wreckage. How you’d seen him, gasping for air. How you’d started walking toward him and then–froze. Stopped in your tracks.

You had walked away.

The grief you’d locked down in the deepest corners of yourself–boxed and buried for years–rushed back to the surface with the brutal weight of tidal force. Your knees hit the ground in the memory, even though your body in the vault hadn’t moved.

Your chest heaved.

Because this wasn’t a memory.

This was your shame.

The moment you’d never told anyone about. The moment even Pepper didn’t know. The moment you abandoned him because you couldn’t watch the man who raised you die.

And now Bob—Bob, who you barely knew at the time—was seeing it too. Sucked into the deepest darkest secret you had. You tried to pull away, but the memory gripped you like a vice.

Tony’s eyes fluttered shut.

Peter was crying.

Pepper leaned in and whispered something too quiet to hear.

And you–you were nowhere near him. You had your hands over your mouth, hiding behind a crumbled slab of wall, like a coward. Crying silently, too ashamed to show your face.

The memory ended like a door slamming shut.

The vault came crashing back into view. Cold. Harsh. Fluorescent.

And you stumbled backward, your hand jerking away from Bob’s as if it had burned you. Your back hit the pillar, hard, and you bent over, one hand gripping your ribs like they were splitting open. You were breathing heavily, but holding back the tears, because you needed to remain strong, you had to or else you weren’t going to get out of the vault alive.

Bob didn’t say anything at first.

He just stood there, his hand still half-raised like he hadn’t realized you’d let go. His chest rose and fell unevenly, not with fear, but with something more fragile—remorse, maybe. Guilt. A kind of stunned softness that only existed in people who had never been given permission to hold something that delicate, and now had to live with the knowledge that they did.

He didn’t look at you right away. He was staring at the spot where your hand had touched his, like it still lingered there.

“I-I’m sorry…” He whispered, which caused your head to snap up at him. You had been expecting confusion. Denial. Questions, maybe. But not an apology.

“I-I don’t know how to c-control it. I didn’t mean to do it.” He said under his breath, kind of like he was muttering it to himself. The strangest thing about it all though was that you didn’t feel angry. You should have. You should’ve been furious that he’d been pulled into something so private. But there was something in the way he looked at you now–like he understood you in a way–that made your breath catch.

“Just…Don’t tell anybody about this.” You said hoarsely, wiping your nose on the back of your sleeve, as you pushed yourself up off the pillar to recover.

”I-I won’t,” He said immediately, “I’d n-never do t-that, I-I promise.” He added, and you believed him.

Even though the moment passed, even though Walker barked something from across the room and Ava told everyone to regroup, even though Bob turned to leave first to give you space–you knew in your gut that it had shifted something.

And now, standing in the present day, in the quiet hallway outside the kitchen, you realized that he really did keep that promise he made all those months ago…But that just spoke to who Bob was, and who he had always been.

——————

The lights in the compound’s living room had been dimmed for movie night, the projector humming softly behind the couch as the team shuffled in with snacks in hand.

You stood in the middle of the chaotic scene of bags and boxes, arms crossed, eyeing them as they made their way over to their designated spots that they typically claimed during movie nights. Yelena kicked her feet up onto the coffee table like it was her birthright. Walker was already grumbling at Ava for stealing the corner seat he liked to stretch out in. Alexei lumbered over with a bowl of popcorn that definitely wasn’t for sharing, and Bucky, as always, took the spot by the far armrest, the one with the clearest view of the exit. Bob lingered near the back of the couch, waiting–always waiting–until he was sure everyone else was settled before choosing a spot closest to you.

You cleared your throat, but it barely registered above the chatter that was happening around you.

”Hey!” You exclaimed, and that’s when heads turned. Walker paused mid-bite. Yelena glanced over her shoulder. Bob straightened immediately like someone had called his full name in school. Even Bucky looked up, one brow arching in curiosity. The projector hadn’t started yet, but the anticipation for the movie had everyone on autopilot. Until now.

“I, uh…” You started, then immediately hated the sound of your own voice. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat, and tried again, “Before we start the movie, I need to say something.” They sat in anticipation, thinking that you were going to announce something either tragic, or shockingly happy. Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve as you took a breath, the hush in the room now bordering on tense.

“Today’s always been a shitty day for me,” you said simply, and the honesty of it settled over them like dust. “Most of you probably figured that out. Some of you knew… or saw more than you were supposed to.” Your eyes flicked briefly toward Bob, and then back.

“But this year felt different. I didn’t want to sit with it by myself. I didn’t want to spend the day pretending it wasn’t happening just to make it easier to breathe.”

You exhaled.

“And I didn’t want to feel alone. So instead… I went shopping.”

There were a few scattered smiles at that. Ava smirked. Yelena tilted her head. Alexei made a noise that sounded like a chuckle and a snore at once.

“I got you all something. Nothing huge. Just things that made me think of you. Things I thought might make you smile. Because whether you like it or not, you’re my team now. You’re my people–my family. And I wanted to say thank you. For being here. For staying.”

You paused, blinking away the weight behind your eyes.

“For putting up with me.”

There was silence. But the kind that meant something. The kind you didn’t want to break too fast.

Then, you turned to the bags behind you and grabbed the first one.

“Ava,” you said, walking it over. “Noise-cancelling headphones and a pass to a rage room. Because, let’s be honest, we annoy the shit out of you.”

Ava cracked a genuine smile. “They better let me bring my own bat.”

“No promises.”

Next: “Yelena.” You passed her a smaller black box. “New utility belt. And some custom knives and batons I had made. Not saying you need them. But I also didn’t want to find out what would happen if you didn’t have them.”

Yelena grinned, flipping the latch open immediately. “You do love me.”

“Very much.” You replied with a smile.

“Walker,” You said, tossing him a medium-sized box that thunked heavily into his lap. “New pans, and a mini travel sized grill.”

“Thank God,” He muttered, already tearing the paper. “And they’re even better quality than the last ones.”

“Alexei.” You handed off two heavy bottles wrapped in tissue paper. “Vodka. The expensive kind.”

“Oh…Oh this is not going to survive night,” He replied, already cracking the top open.

“I figured.”

Then, you looked at Bucky.

“For you,” You said more quietly, stepping over and handing him a neatly wrapped parcel, “A metal polishing and cleaning kit, so you can stop using the dishwasher on your arm. And I got you an appointment for a bike detailing. Full job. New coat of black, too.”

He blinked slowly, surprised. “You remembered that?”

“You yelled about it for thirty minutes. I’d have to be concussed not to remember.”

He smiled. It was the small kind, but it stayed on his face longer than you expected.

You turned to Bob last, and something in your chest fluttered a little harder than you were ready for.

He was sitting upright, hands folded in his lap, trying not to look too eager, but his eyes flicked up to yours like he was bracing for impact. You walked over slowly, cradling the last item with more care than the others, and stopped just in front of him.

“This one’s for you,” You said gently, and handed him the book.

It wasn’t wrapped. No fancy paper, no ribbon–just a hardcover in a matte finish, with The Creative Act by Rick Rubin printed across the front in clean black letters.

Bob’s eyes flicked down to it. His hands moved slowly, reverent almost, as he turned the book over, like he wanted to feel the weight of it first before opening it. He ran his thumb along the edge before he finally slipped the front cover open–and there it was, tucked just inside the front page.

A handwritten note on a small square of folded paper that you had taken from Bob’s desk when you snuck in just before the movie.

Written in your slanted, slightly chaotic handwriting.

’The real gift is in your bedroom.’ Just the words alone affected him immediately.

His ears flushed red at first, before blooming down to his cheeks, and over his neck like a fire that couldn’t be put out. His eyes darted up to you, then back to the page, like he was checking to make sure if he’d read it right.

Then, with a bit too much urgency, he shut the book. Yelena was already leaning over from her seat to look at him.

”What’d you get?” She asked, her voice laced with amusement, seeing the deep blush that continued to burn on his cheeks.

”Yeah, let’s see,” Walker added, craning his neck, “It didn’t even have wrapping. What is it?” Bob shook his head quickly, holding the book close to his chest like it might be pried from him if he held it out too far from him.

”It’s…It’s j-just a book.” Everyone exchanged glances at one another, then looked over at you, then Bob.

”You’re turning that red over a book?” Ava raised an eyebrow. You watched as Bob sank slightly into himself, clutching the book like it was something far more scandalous than a hardcover on creative philosophy.

“You didn’t even open it all the way, you just opened the cover.” Yelena added.

”I-I don’t have to,” He stammered, adjusting the book in his arms, “It’s o-one Y/N and I saw at the b-bookstore a while ago that’s all.” Now all eyes turned to you. You gave a small, innocent smile.

“It really is just a book guys,” You said simply, meeting their suspicious looks with a calm ease, “Like Bob said…We saw it at the bookstore a while ago and he didn’t buy it. So I just got it for him now. No big deal.” Then you went to the couch to take up your space, looking back at Bob who was already coming to sit in the space that was available beside you. “Now…We can commence movie night.” You added, feeling Bob adjust beside you slightly, bumping his knee against yours almost like he was giving you a nudge, before settling in completely.

——————-

Eventually, everyone fell asleep in their spots apart from you and Bob.

The projector had long since gone dark, the soft white glow replaced by the quiet hush of breath and shifting limbs. The living room had become a patchwork of tangled limbs, half-eaten snacks, and drooping blankets. You and Bob sat in the warm silence at the edge of it all, knees still brushing where they’d been for the past hour.

He hadn’t opened the book again–not since that first flustered glance. But his fingers never stopped grazing the edges of the cover. He was still holding onto it carefully, like it might slip through his hands if he blinked too fast. You leaned toward him slightly, just enough so that your shoulder nudged him to get his attention.

”Hey,” You whispered. He glanced over at you, like he’s been waiting for you to say something because he was too scared to do it himself, “Wanna see your real gift now?” You asked, a small smile appearing on your lips. Bob could feel his heart pumping out of his chest as he began to overheat like a furnace.

“Y-Yeah…I mean…Y-yeah if you’re ready to s-show me.” You rose slowly, careful not to kick over a stray popcorn bowl or stir anyone from their half-snoring sprawl. Your eyes flicked briefly over the room to make sure no one was stirring—Yelena had curled into a blanket cocoon, Walker was snoring like a truck engine, and Alexei’s head had slumped against the back of the couch, drool threatening the upholstery. Bucky’s eyes were shut, but you could tell by the slight twitch in his jaw he was only pretending to sleep, which was typical for him. Turning back to Bob, you extended your hand toward him, palm open, wrist loose.

“Come on,” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “Just make sure to be quiet cause if they wake up we’ll never hear the end of it.” He nodded–one firm, terrified little nod–and slid his fingers into yours. His hand was warm and clammy, but you didn’t mind the feeling. Quite honestly, you wished he did this more often, because it gave you this ease, the kind that only he truly provided. You squeezed his hand gently before tugging him up onto his feet, and he followed like you’d cast a spell over him.

You led him carefully through the living room, toes skimming across the floor like a cat, weaving between bodies and blankets until you reached the edge of the wing that led to your rooms.

The hallway was dim and quiet, the only light coming from the soft golden hue of the floor runners and the faint spill of moonlight through the high windows. You padded down the hardwood floor hand in hand, every step muffled, every breath shared. Bob stayed impossibly close to you, so close in fact that you could practically feel his breath on your neck, as if putting too much space between the both of you might make the whole moment disappear.

When you reached his door, you stopped just short of the frame and turned to him with a look that was half excitement, half warning.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to cover your eyes.” You whispered, looking up at him with one of the soft smiles you always gave him when you needed him to do something for you.

“W-What? Why?” He asked quietly under his breath, still holding onto your hand, only it was a little tighter now, probably from the nerves that were clawing away in the pit of his stomach.

“Just trust me…You won’t regret it.” Bob let out a quiet, breathy laugh–more like a whimper, really–and gave you the softest, most defeated sigh, like his heart had already left his chest and he was just trying to keep his limbs from shaking.

“A-Alright…” He whispered, leaning just a little closer to you, close enough that you could feel his breath hitting your cheeks, “Just…Just don’t let m-me trip or walk into something…Please.” You gave his hand another reassuring squeeze.

“Hasn’t happened before, and I’m not planning on letting that happen now.” You teased, before softly adding “Now…Close your eyes.” Bob obeyed, raising his free hand over his face with careful fingers, blocking his vision as if you were leading him into a sacred place rather than his own bedroom. You nudged the door open with your foot and gave his hand a gentle tug, leading him across the threshold.

You didn’t need to turn on a light.

His room always felt a little like stepping into a different plane of calm. The kind of space that knew quiet in its bones. Moonlight fell in soft silver lines across the floor through his half-open blinds, slicing the darkness into gentle pieces. The windows of his room were quite large, which was the reason why everyone assigned it to him, because if he ever had an episode and didn’t want to come out of his room, he would at least get some sunlight.

His bed was unmade, but it was clean, it always was–Bob didn’t like messes too much, and the comforter was crumpled in a way that suggested he hadn’t been able to stay still for more than a minute. His nightstand had a glass of water and a half-melted candle that still smelled faintly like lavender, which was something that he had learned calmed him through you. There were books stacked under the window. T-shirts folded too neatly on the open shelves. A jacket draped on the chair in the corner.

His room was basically a manifestation of things he picked up from you and bits and pieces of himself that he couldn’t shake. It was a perfect balance, especially when he was too scared to go to your room when you were out on missions–when he was missing you terribly.

And then–right there in the center of the room, illuminated perfectly by the soft glow spilling through the curtains–was the record player.

Matte black, sleek, minimalist. Quiet in its confidence. It sat on a low wooden console table that you had bought pre-assembled. Beside it, propped open just slightly, was a padded carrying case–and inside there were three of your records that he had constantly put on whenever he would end up in your room: Loveless by My Bloody Valentine, Last Splash by The Breeders, and Elton John’s Self Titled.

On nights like these–when you had nothing to do–Bob would come and listen to a record with you while lying on your bed. The both of you would stare at the ceiling and talk, usually it was about anything and nothing at all, that’s just how it had always been. Sometimes you guys would touch, hold hands just as a source of comfort, but it never went further than that, because neither of you wanted to possibly put the friendship in jeopardy.

Tonight would be one of those nights that you would be able to lie with him thankfully.

You looked up at Bob who was still shielding his eyes even though he was clearly trembling with anticipation. You gave the hand that was intertwined with yours one last squeeze and leaned close enough that your arms brushed.

”Alright,” You whispered, “You can open them now.” Bob’s hand dropped from his eyes like he was lifting the lid on something sacred.

And the second his gaze landed on the record player, his entire face changed.

His shoulders softened, his chest lifted like he’d just taken the first real breath in hours–and then came the smile. Wide, radiant, boyish. One that reached all the way up to his eyes and cracked something open in you.

He stepped forward slowly, like he was approaching something precious. His fingers hovered above the turntable for a moment before he crouched down in front of it, knees tucked in, head tilted with something like awe. The soft light haloed around him, catching on the strands of his hair and the curve of his jaw. You saw his lips part slightly, saw the way he swallowed thickly.

Then his sleeve came up–quick and almost sheepish–and he dabbed at the corners of his eyes with the back of his wrist. He thought you wouldn’t notice if he did it quickly but you knew his tells, and you knew when something was wrong with him. When he let out a small sniffle, you were at his side in an instant.

“Bob?” You whispered, dropping to your knees beside him, voice soft, uncertain. “Hey…What’s wrong?”

He didn’t look at you at first. Just shook his head quickly, eyes still fixed on the player.

“Nothing–Nothing’s wrong,” He said quickly, but his voice cracked halfway through. “I’m just–God–this is…It’s too much.”He whispered to himself, pressing a trembling hand to his eyes again to wipe off another set of tears.

Your brows knit together, and you lifted a hand instinctively, hovering just above his shoulder but not quite touching.

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, I just–”

“I love it,” He interrupted gently, finally turning to face you. His eyes were wet, his cheeks flushed, and there was that dazed smile again, wide and aching. “I love it so much.”

You let out a soft, quiet exhale, the kind you didn’t even know you were holding, relieved that you didn’t do anything wrong.

And then–without warning–he leaned into you.

Not cautiously. Not halfway.

Fully.

Bob wrapped his arms around you with all the care and all the weight of someone who had wanted to do it for a very long time. One arm slid around your lower back while the other curled protectively around your shoulders, tucking you against him like you were the only thing he could hold onto. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and you felt his breath hitch against your neck.

You froze for just a second–stunned by the sheer intensity of it–before you melted into him. Your arms wound around his back, your hands gripping at the soft fabric of his sweater. You closed your eyes and held him, not just because you were trying to comfort him, but also because you needed it just as much as he did.

Bob breathed in deeply, inhaling your warmth, and your sweet scent–a mixture of iris and clementines. He said you smelled like summer to him once, and he stuck by that even to this day, because it was intoxicating to him, and it was you…That’s what he liked most.

Your hand drifted up slowly to the back of his neck, letting your fingers brush through his hair with a tenderness so natural it almost startled you. He didn’t flinch, or shy away, instead you felt him melt into you just a little more, like your touch was untying the knots that were within him.

“I-I’m sorry,” He murmured, his voice muffled against your shoulder, “I-I didn’t mean to cry…No one’s ever gotten me something t-this nice before.” You let out a soft huff against him, pulling back just enough so you could look at him, your fingers curling gently so you were cradling the back of his head.

”Bob…” You whispered, then smiled with a soft ache, “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m glad it means something to you…” He looked up at you with wide, glassy blue eyes, still watering slightly at the corners.

”It really…It really does…It-It means everything to me Y/N…” He replied.

A silence settled between the both of you in that moment, not awkward but charged–thick with feelings that were just cresting on the horizon. You brought your other hand up to his face, letting your thumb brush along the curve of his jaw before you dropped it to rest over his chest, right where you could feel his heartbeat drumming just under the fabric of his sweater. When you pressed a little harder you could feel the muscle flex against your touch,–a reflex from Bob.

“So…Uh…Does this mean I c-can’t come to your r-room anymore to listen to vinyls?” You raised an eyebrow at that comment, leaning in just a little so your noses were almost touching, as you allowed the edge of your voice to dip playfully.

”Actually…It’s an excuse for me to come in here once in a while.” He was taken aback by your comment, but it had hit him like a lightning bolt.

His mouth parted slightly, eyes locking with yours as if you just upended gravity. You could see when it fully clicked for him–what it meant, what you wanted it to mean. The warmth in his face scattered deeper now, but this time, he didn’t look away.

”W-Well then…I-I think you should use that e-excuse…A-All the time then.” You tilted your head a bit, a smirk coming up on your lips, realizing what he was giving back now.

”All the time hm?” He nodded, keeping his eyes glued to yours, his pupils dilating slightly to adjust more to the darkness, and to take more of you in.

”A-As much as you want Y/N...Every n-night even i-if you want.” Your heart fluttered–too loud, too strong–but you didn’t let it show except for the little smile that cracked wide across your face. You slid your hand up to the collar of his sweater, your thumb running along the thin skin on his neck.

“Well,” You said, leaning in, “Why don’t we start now then…” Bob didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

Because the second those words left your lips–why don’t we start now then–the air between you changed. Like it folded in on itself. Like the gravity in the room evaporated completely and every ounce of tension that had lived in stolen glances and almost-touches finally snapped tight, pulling the two of you together like you’d never really meant to be apart in the first place.

Your lips found his.

Soft. Certain. Slow at first–just a press. Just a whisper of something that had been waiting so long to be real. Bob shuddered under you, like every nerve in his body had lit up at once. His hands came up instinctively, almost blindly—one settling on your waist, the other cradling the curve of your back like he was afraid you’d vanish.

But you didn’t.

You kissed him again.

And again.

Breathing into each other between the spaces. Your mouths never fully parted–they just shifted, adjusted, and learned. His lips moved with yours like he was starved for the taste, like he had imagined it so many times but never dared to believe he’d ever actually feel it. You felt his breath catch in the back of his throat, felt the way he tensed, and then eased, melting into it like he finally believed it was happening.

When you moved closer to him Bob let out the softest gasp into your mouth, it was barely a sound, but it still hit you like an electric current. You deepened the kiss, tilting your head as your hands slid higher into his hair. You gripped at the soft strands and gave them a gentle tug, just enough to guide his head back just a little–earning a low, breathless sound, stealing it straight out of his chest.

With trembling strength, Bob shifted, pulling you with him slowly until you were in his lap, your knees sliding on either side of his thighs, straddling him. His hands gripped at your hips, thumbs pressing into the fabric of your shirt like you were something holy to him. When your weight settled over him completely it made Bob feel like the world had gone totally quiet–like he could live in this moment and never need anything else for survival.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead resting against his as your fingers brushed his flushed cheeks. Bob’s lips were still parted, his breath coming in soft, stuttered exhales that fanned across your mouth. His hands had stilled on your hips, still holding you like he was scared to grip too tightly, like if he held too hard you might vanish again.

“Is this okay?” you whispered, voice low and weighted with something deeper than just desire. Bob nodded immediately, so fast it was almost a flinch.

“Y-Yeah,” He breathed, “Y-Yeah, anything you want–just–God, I want you to take whatever y-you want.”

You smiled, touching your nose to his briefly, before leaning back enough to sit upright on his lap. Bob’s hands stayed where they were, unmoving, as if he was afraid to go any further unless you guided him. And you would. Because this was yours to take if you wanted it–and he had already given it so freely.

Your hands slipped to the hem of your shirt, and you pulled it over your head in one smooth motion. The fabric whispered over your skin as it came off, and you dropped it onto the floor beside you without looking away from him.

Bob’s breath hitched.

You were wearing a thin, slate-colored bra–and barely anything between your body and the chill in the air. The moonlight caught on the curve of your breasts and the subtle rise and fall of your breathing, but it also revealed more than just your skin.

Faint, jagged lines kissed across your ribs and shoulders. Scars from old missions, burns, nicks, remnants of the life you’d led before this–before the Thunderbolts. Each one a story you rarely told. Some puckered. Some silver. A few newer, still healing. They caught the light and glimmered in ways they never had before–because now, someone was really looking at them. You saw Bob’s eyes flicker down over them like he was cataloging each one with the kind of care and thoughtfulness that made your throat tighten.

And then there was the necklace.

Stark tech. Thin chain. Sleek design. The pendant was small, flat, shaped like a coin and glowing faintly from within–pulse blue, soft as breath. It had been a gift from Tony. A prototype for a fail-safe, disguised as a keepsake. Only a few people in the compound even knew it wasn’t just jewelry. You never explained it, never offered context. But you didn’t move to hide it now

His eyes lifted again–tentative, trembling–and met yours. You saw the way he swallowed hard, saw the way he tried to stop himself from looking lower, like he didn’t want to disrespect the moment. But his gaze dropped again anyway, helpless against the gravity of you. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He looked stunned.

“I know,” You murmured, softer this time, like you were trying to soothe the bashful panic behind his wide-eyed stare. “It’s a lot.”

“No–n-no, it’s not–” Bob’s voice cracked as he tried to sit up straighter, his hands tightening a little on your hips. “You’re–God, you’re beautiful, and it’s e-everything I imagined.” You tilted your head to the side, a teasing glint blooming behind your eyes as you traced your fingers slowly up his arms.

”You’ve imagined this?” You asked, voice light but thick with hea, watching Bob’s entire face turn a deeper shade of red in the moonlight, like he was caught committing a crime. His lips parted as he scrambled for a respectful response, but you didn’t give him a chance. You leaned in, lips hovering just above his, your breath slipping into his mouth as you whispered, “What else have you imagined?” Bob exhaled shakily, the sound brushing your mouth. His hands flexed unconsciously on your hips as though trying to ground himself–like if he didn’t hold onto you, he might drift right out of the moment.

“I’ve…” He whispered, his voice barely audible over the heavy breathing the both of you were doing, “T-Thought about touching you…Like t-this.” He began to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, leaving a trail of heat and wetness from his lips all the way down to your neck, before he opened his mouth against you, right below your ear, placing a lingering kiss that made you push your chest against his with the heat that curled around you.

“I’ve t-though about what your s-skin would feel against m-mine,” He murmured, trembling as his lips traced the column of your throat, “And how you would sound i-if I kissed you h-here…” He added, placing a kiss against your pulse point, listening to the small sigh that escaped your mouth.

His breath was shaky against your neck as his lips lingered at the little patch of skin that thumped against his touch, his nose brushing against the soft dip of your throat while his hands remained firmly planted on your hips–too still, too solid, like he didn’t trust himself to move without falling apart.

But then, as if pulled by some gravitational force he could no longer fight, one of his hands slid upward. Slowly. Tentatively. Fingertips brushing over the hem of your bra, skimming your ribs, following the curve of your waist until they reached the delicate strap resting on your shoulder. His knuckles trembled, but his touch was impossibly gentle, as if even the fabric you wore deserved to be worshipped.

He kissed your jaw again–open-mouthed, soft–and then you felt the light tug at your shoulder as he slipped the strap down. The fabric eased across your skin with a quiet drag, and you shivered beneath it, watching the way his eyes followed the path like it was sacred scripture.

His lips returned to your skin, grazing over the hollow of your collarbone before whispering into it–so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

”C-Can I look?” You nodded.

”Yes…Of course.” You whispered. His hand twitched where it rested at the curve of your spine, and then, with a sort of hesitance that nearly broke you, he slid his hand up to the clasp of your bra, his fingertips brushing clumsily along them, missing the latch twice. You couldn’t help but smile at the fumbling, as he let out a breathy, nervous laugh against your skin, while his forehead dropped to your shoulder in a sheepish show of surrender.

”I-I swear I’m trying,” He murmured, the corners of his lips curling up. You laughed with him, soft and unhurried, before pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I’ve got it,” You said, reaching one arm behind yourself with practiced ease. The clasp gave one tiny click and you slid the loose straps down your arms, letting it join your t-shirt that was beside you. When you straightened back up, bare now in the soft glow of the moonlight, Bob didn’t move at first, he just stared.

Not in a greedy way, not in the way you were used to being looked at, it was with such desire and want it made your stomach turn. Like he was trying to memorize the details of your body so when he closed his eyes he’d be able to picture it.

His hands slid up slowly from your waist, palms wide, cautious, and trembling just slightly as they moved to trace along your ribs. His thumbs brushed upward–barely skimming the outer swell of your breasts–before he let out a long, shaky breath and leaned in. His lips pressed to the curve of your breast, just above your heart, and you felt the sigh leave him as he held you like you were something holy.

You curled your fingers into his hair, watching him.

“Bob…” You whispered, but it was barely a sound.

He lifted his head just long enough to meet your gaze. His cheeks were flushed, his lips already kiss-bitten and pink.

“I-I’ve imagined this so many times,” He said softly, almost apologetically. “But it never felt like this. I-It never felt this real.”

And then his mouth returned to your skin–this time lower.

He kissed across the top of your breast, then the underside, open-mouthed, so gentle you almost whimpered. His tongue barely grazed, only enough to tease, to taste. You felt the warmth of him, the way he held one breast up in his hand with delicate fingers while he mouthed softly at the other. You gasped when his lips closed over your nipple, sucking gently, and your back arched toward him without meaning to.

You slid your hands beneath the hem of his sweater, then under his shirt, fingers meeting hot, bare skin. He jumped slightly at the sudden contact, pulling back from your chest just enough to pant softly against it.

“C-Cold hands,” He whispered breathlessly, grinning faintly against your skin even though his whole body was burning with heat. “Or maybe I’m j-just really warm…” You laughed again, low and soft.

“You are, I think I can even feel your blood boiling.” You joked, keeping your hands under his shirt, palms smoothing across his back and up over the planes of his stomach and chest. You could feel how solid he was beneath you–not just strong, but sensitive, pliant, like he wanted to give all of himself over to your hands, your mouth, your gaze.

And he did.

Bob went back to your breasts, now kissing them between worshipful sighs and breathless, choked words.

“You’re so…So soft,” He murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your sternum. “So warm… I didn’t know it could feel like this. I-I didn’t know it could feel this good just…Just to be close to you...”

You felt a swell of something tender and aching crash into your chest.

You cupped his jaw, tilting his face up so he’d look at you. And he did with red-cheeks, wide-eyes, and lips that were still shining faintly from the saliva that coated them. And then you leaned in again and kissed him—deeper this time. Slower. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, tasting him, letting him taste you.

His arms wrapped tighter around your waist again and this time, he moved.

“C-Can I…” He panted into the kiss, “Can I bring you to t-the bed?”You nodded against his lips.

“Yes, Bob. Please.” He stood slowly, hands steadying you as he rose, and then–without any real effort at all–he lifted you into his arms. You clutched at his shirt as your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, a soft gasp leaving your lips.

”Jesus, sometimes I forget you’re a superhuman basically…” He laughed–nervous but proud that he surprised you with his strength.

”I d-don’t really show it off, so I don’t b-blame you for forgetting.” He murmured, as his skin continued to heat up against you. He walked the two of you the short distance to the unmade bed and lowered you gently onto the cold sheets.

But instead of climbing on top of you, he slid in beside you, curling close–not out of hesitation, but intimacy.

You turned onto your side, your body instinctively seeking him, and hooked one leg over his hip, bringing your thigh around him and pulling him in. The moment he was close enough, you kissed him again–your hands sliding up into his hair, fingers threading through the soft brown strands at the back of his head.

Immediately, he melted into the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth–barely audible, but it vibrated through your chest, and curled low in your stomach– where the tension began to build. Your lips moved against each other in a rhythm that felt like it had been written in the marrow of your bones, like the both of you belonged there together in that moment.

And then Bob pulled back–just enough to look at you. His pupils were blown wide, eating away at the lush blue, his lips were wet and parted as he breathed shallowly, trembling slightly.

”I-I wanna feel everything,” He whispered.

Then with a move that felt bolder than anything he’d ever done, he pulled at the collar of his sweater, pulling it off. The hem dragged over his head, catching slightly on his hair before he tossed it aside, his t-shirt following soon after–slightly rumpled and damp from how hot he was getting.

The moonlight etched the shape of him–slender but strong, pale skin kissed splashed with little drops of freckles and barely-there scars. You saw the muscles move under the skin of his stomach when he breathed in, saw the way his chest rose and fell like he was trying to stay steady in a storm of want.

He slid his arm under your neck and around your shoulders, pulling you close, gathering you into the crook of his body like he needed every inch of contact. Your leg stayed hooked over his waist, your hips now pressed firmly together, heat and need blooming where your bodies touched.

His hand slid slowly down your spine, palm wide, curling gently around the dip of your lower back.

And then he kissed you again.

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t rushed. It was molten. Deep. Slow and desperate.

You could feel the way his lips moved with a kind of hunger that didn’t want to consume you–it wanted to worship every inch of you.

As your tongues brushed, you shifted your hips, rolling gently against the line of his thigh. His breath hitched, a surprised little gasp breaking the kiss.

And then his knee shifted.

He tilted his leg slightly between yours, giving you the perfect angle to move against him–and you did. Slowly at first. Just the press of your body rocking into his. You moaned softly against his lips as you rolled your hips again, dragging yourself along him with just the right amount of pressure. It wasn’t loud, but it vibrated between your mouths, slipping into him like a secret you wanted him to feel in his bones.

His lips barely touched yours now–just ghosting–warm and open and trembling, like he was terrified to break the moment. You breathed in at the same time he exhaled, your lips parting in tandem, and it felt like you were drinking each other in. Breath passed between you in small, shared gasps, heat curling where mouths nearly met, where words became vapor.

“Bob…” You whispered into him, and his name felt like silk on your tongue.

The air between your mouths wasn’t even air anymore. It was communion. Heat. Exchange. Like you were tethered by the sheer force of needing each other. His nose brushed yours. Your foreheads pressed together. His breath hit your tongue before it hit his own lungs.

And still–you craved Bob’s touch even more.

You reached between your bodies, your fingers skimming over his wrist before curling around it gently. His pulse jumped under your touch.

You guided his hand down until his knuckles met the waistband of your sweatpants. His breath faltered.

“I need more…” You whispered, voice raw and low–on the brink of begging, “Please…”

Bob didn’t speak at first. He just nodded, quickly like that word please had been carved into him. Then, with trembling fingers, he tugged at the tie of your sweatpants, undoing the bow with care, like he was unwrapping something sacred.

As he did, your fingers slipped down to the tie of his–mirroring him. Equal.

He froze just a little.

“W-What…What are you doing?” he asked, voice cracking like a matchstick in the dark.

Your hand kept working the knot, lips hovering over his, your nose brushing his as you breathed:

“I don’t want to be the only one being touched like this.” His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, jaw tightening, chest rising as he tried to hold himself together. But your voice–your need–had undone him completely. He nodded again, slower this time, gaze trailing down to where your hands were now at each other’s waistbands.

And then you both moved.

It wasn’t graceful–no art to it. Just need. Just fumbling, frantic hands pushing sweatpants down over hips, wriggling out of the fabric together in a tangle of half-laughs and sharp breaths and grazes of skin.

Your legs kicked the soft fabric off the edge of the bed and his did the same.

And then you were back–wrapped around each other again. The arm beneath your head pulled you in slowly, as his hand splayed between your shoulder blades, fingers curling slightly like he needed to grab onto something to keep him in the moment. Your thigh returned to his hip, locking yourself into him, and the kiss you shared was now pure fire. It was teeth and tongue and breath and a low, desperate sound torn straight from his throat.

You kissed him like you couldn’t get deep enough. Like you’d climb inside his chest if he let you. And he would. He would.

His hand slid up the back of your neck and into your hair as your mouth’s finally slowed, pulling back slightly to breathe. Your lips stayed apart for him, letting a whisper of space between you.

Your noses touched. His forehead pressed to yours. And when you opened your eyes, he was already staring–flushed and wide and wrecked in the most beautiful way.

Then Bob’s hand moved. Slowly. Purposefully.

He brought it to your mouth, two fingers extended–not tentative, but gently.

“Let me,” He whispered.

You nodded, opening your mouth just a little more for him. You took his fingers in without hesitation, wrapping your tongue around them, wetting them with slow, deliberate passes. His eyes fluttered closed, his breath shaking as you sucked softly–just enough to coat them in warmth.

When he withdrew, he immediately slid his hand down. Beneath your underwear.

And when his fingers found you–hot, wet, already aching for him–he moaned into your cheek.

“Oh, God…” Was all he could choke out, as he slid through your arousal, slow and careful, dragging every drop of slickness to your clit in gentle circles. You gasped–your whole body arching forward into him, closing your eyes at the sensation of his fingers against you.

Your hand moved too now–down his chest, over the soft lines of his abdomen–until your hand slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs. He hissed at the contact, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

You found him hard and hot in your hand, thick and twitching under your fingers as you wrapped around him, stroking slow. Just once. Just enough to feel him jump in your palm.

Bob groaned, low and guttural against your skin.

You both moved together, hands working in tandem–your touch on him firm and steady, his fingers stroking you in slow circles until he dipped one inside. Then another. Stretching you gently, curling just enough to make your breath catch, your thighs tremble.

The bed creaked softly beneath you as the both of you writhed beneath each others hands

Skin to skin. Mouth to mouth. You moved together like a tide pull–rocking, gasping, fingers slipping and sliding against one another.

Bob adjusted himself slightly, pressing closer to you, before moving his fingers quicker now–they were still gentle, but there was more purpose to his movements. Like he couldn’t help it. Like your body had hypnotized him into doing exactly what you needed him to do, and his only job was to listen. The pads of his fingers pressed and curled inside you, while his thumb circled your clit with more pressure than before, and the sensation that came from this change bloomed in sharp and immediate trembles.

You gasped–high and sudden–your head tilting back into the solidness of his arm that was wrapped around the back of your neck. Your hand that was wrapped around him, stilled. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

It was too much.

Your free hand flew to his shoulder, fingers digging in, nails curling against the slope of muscle. You clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring you to the bed, to the moment, to yourself.

Bob’s breath caught as he felt you seize around him, as he watched your eyes flutter and your mouth part in a soundless moan that finally broke into a quiet, desperate whimper. His name left your lips like a secret you’d never told anyone else–torn from the center of you. He could feel it, the way your body trembled against him, the way your muscles clenched around his fingers in tight, rhythmic pulses.

And he watched.

He watched you come undone with a look of sheer awe painted across his face. His lips parted slightly, eyes fixed on yours, and then on your mouth, like he couldn’t decide what was more beautiful: the way you looked when you fell apart, or the sound of his name when you did.

Your brows furrowed with the force of it, your thighs tightening around his hips, your breath breaking apart like waves crashing on rock.

Bob didn’t stop—not until he felt you ride the last crest of it, your body softening again beneath him. And when you finally blinked, eyes unfocused and lips still parted, he leaned forward and kissed your cheek. Reverent. Almost trembling.

He withdrew his fingers slowly, gently, like he didn’t want to startle you after such a fragile, shattering moment. You shivered at the loss, and he whispered something into your skin—too soft to make out. But his breath was warm. His lips were warm.

And then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze.

His hand hovered between you, the slick still glistening faintly in the low light. But he didn’t wipe it away. He just looked at you like you were the most divine thing he’d ever seen.

“C-Can I take these off?” He asked, his voice thick with longing, with excitement, with the weight of everything he was holding back.

His hand ghosted over the band of your underwear, waiting.

You nodded slowly, still breathless, still catching your bearings.

”Yes…Yes please…Please just do what you want to me Bob…I’m already yours.” The moment those words left your lips, one thing inside Bob snapped like a wire that had been wrapped too tight. It wasn’t in a wild, unruly way though. No–this was quiet, controlled, but powerful.

His breath shuddered in his chest as he surged forward to kiss you harder this time, deepening it almost instantly. It was desperate but gently, like he needed to pour all the feelings he couldn’t say into your mouth, into the space between your teeth and tongue and breath.

As he kissed you, his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, dragging the last barrier down slowly, reverently. His knuckles skimmed your thighs, your hips, the swell of your backside. The fabric clung slightly, then surrendered, pooling around your knees before you helped kick it away.

Bob’s hand dipped next to his own waistband, and you could feel the moment he slid his briefs off. The subtle lift of his hips. The faint brush of heat and bare skin against yours. He was pressed close now–every inch of him.

And when you looked down between your bodies, when your eyes caught the sight of him fully bared–his length flushed light red and thick, curving slightly, the tip glistening with need–you felt heat flood every nerve in your body. The moment was more than just physical. It was overwhelming. He was ready, so ready, not just in body but in soul, in the way he looked at you like you were gravity and breath and sky all at once.

Bob swallowed hard, as if he could feel you seeing all of him, as if the intimacy of being witnessed so completely was almost too much to bear.

But he didn’t look away.

Instead, he shifted–slowly, carefully–until he was over you. His hands pressed into the bed on either side of your body, muscles tense as though he were anchoring himself to the world. You welcomed him with a soft sigh, parting your legs wider to cradle his hips, letting him settle into the space that had always been meant for him–since the day you realized you wanted him like this.

He leaned down first–pressing a kiss to your chest. Right between your breasts. Then another to the slope of one, then the other. Then higher. His lips grazed your sternum, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat. Each kiss was warm, slow, and sacred.

By the time his mouth found yours again, you were breathless from just the journey of it.

He kissed you with everything. Not just hunger, but reverence. Like your lips were a language he’d studied for years but only just learned how to speak.

And then–without a word–he reached for your hand.

You let him take it easily, watching the way his long fingers wrapped around yours. He brought it up gently, pressing it down into the mattress beside your head, his grip secure but soft–like he wanted to hold you in place but never trap you.

That one motion nearly undid you.

It wasn’t restraint.

It was his way of closeness. The kind that made you feel tethered to him, like your bodies weren’t just aligned–they were entwined, they were marking. Like they were made to be this close. Built for this level of intimacy for only each other.

His forehead rested against yours again. You could feel every exhale fan across your lips.

“I wanna go slow,” He whimpered, voice breaking like dusk light through the curtains. “I wanna…Wanna feel all of you…Every second of you…”

You reached your free hand up to his face, and your thumb brushed across his cheekbone, slow and tender, like you were tracing the edge of a secret only you were allowed to know. His skin was warm beneath your touch–warmer than it had ever been–and you could feel the tremble in his breath as he waited, eyes searching yours like they were the only compass he had left.

“And I want you to lose yourself in me.” You replied. His eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment he just breathed like your words had cracked something open in his chest. When he looked at you again, there was something new behind his expression–like awe and fear had melted into devotion.

“If anything becomes too much, you have to tell me…” He said, voice almost broken with the weight of care. You nodded, but your hand tightened in his.

”It won’t…But I promise if it does I will tell you.” He dipped his head lower again, as if he couldn't bear the space between your mouths any longer, and pressed a kiss to your lips again absorbing the softness of them, the warmth. Your hand threaded through his hair, fingertips curling at the nape of his neck, guiding him so he was pressed right against you.

And then–his hand moved down between your bodies. You felt the slow drag of his palm against the outside of your thigh, then the careful slide of his fingers as he reached down and guided himself to you. He breathed out when he felt you coat him, your wetness catching on every ridge of him as he slid himself against your entrance–once, twice, gathering all of you onto him. His body twitched with restraint. His jaw clenched. He pressed his forehead harder against yours as if the contact was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart entirely.

The moment he pushed in, your bodies stopped breathing.

Your mouth parted with a gasp–sharp and soft–as he sank into you slowly, inch by inch, until you felt your body stretch and adjust to every curve of him. Bob choked on a breath the second he felt your warmth take him in, his face screwing up in something between a sob and a moan. His forehead pressed harder against yours, like if he moved any other way he’d fall apart.

“God–oh, God…” He whispered, voice ragged and frayed at the edges. “Holy…You’re…You’re so” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He was too overwhelmed by the feel of you wrapped around him, every pulse and tremble drawing him deeper into the haze of you.

Your hand clenched tighter in his, and you felt the way his fingers locked with yours, grounding himself with your grip as he bottomed out. A low, aching sound slipped from your throat and caught in the space between your lips, and you felt it shake against his mouth as he kissed you again–slow, reverent, his tongue barely brushing yours as he tried to breathe.

“You’re doing so good,” You whispered into him, your voice like silk over fire. “Just stay right there. Just let me feel you…”

He whimpered at that, a broken noise into your mouth, like the praise undid him. He didn’t move–couldn’t, not yet at least. He was just holding himself there, buried inside you, feeling the way your body fluttered around him.

“I-It’s like…Like you’re pulling me apart,” He said, breathless. “And putting me back together all at once…”

His hand left yours slowly, reluctantly, fingers sliding down your wrist with a feather-light touch as he reached for your thigh. You felt it happen in stages–the way his hand cradled the back of your knee, the way he gently guided your leg up higher on his waist, opening you up further, angling himself deeper.

The shift made your breath catch. He slid in even further, the new position sending a wave of pressure right through your core, and you gasped into his mouth. Bob groaned–breathlessly low, lost—and his hips jolted forward once, like he couldn’t help himself.

You could feel him trembling above you, his hand still gripping your thigh like it was the only thing anchoring him to the planet.

“I need…” he murmured into your neck, voice barely coherent, “Need to be closer—need to feel all of you.”

“You are,” You whispered back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, holding him close. “You’re already in every part of me.”

He rocked into you, slow at first–agonizing in its care–like he wanted to memorize every detail, every sound you made when he moved. Your bodies stayed pressed together, chest to chest, lips to jaw, gasps shared like breathless secrets.

And then you reached up.

You cupped his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks, until your fingers slid gently into his mouth. Bob’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and stunned–and then he groaned, low in his chest, as he closed his lips around them.

You watched him–watched his lashes flutter, his breath hitch, the way his hips stuttered forward harder now, more desperate, like the taste of you on his tongue had undone something deep and buried inside him.

You moaned at the sight of it–at the way he sucked your thumbs, not rough, but with such reverence you almost passed out, on the brink of obedience.

You slipped your thumbs from his mouth slowly, watching the glossy string of saliva stretch and catch in the moonlight like silk spun from reverence. Bob’s lips stayed parted, his breath hot against your fingers, his tongue brushing the edge of one thumb as you pulled it away. And then, without breaking the contact, you trailed the damp touch down his jaw–soft, deliberate, leaving a glistening line in its wake.

His whole body stilled.

You felt him twitch inside you, felt the sharp inhale he tried and failed to control. And then your fingers tilted his chin up.

“Look at me,” You whispered, your voice low and rich with everything you couldn’t say with words alone. His eyes lifted to yours like he was coming up for air, like your gaze was the only thing keeping him from dissolving into the moment completely. He looked wrecked–beautifully so. Lips kiss-bruised, cheeks flushed to the tips of his ears, pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes completely now. You could see every flicker of awe in his expression, every ounce of need, of surrender. You brushed your fingers along the edge of his jaw, then swept them up into his hair, pushing the sweat-dampened strands from his forehead with aching tenderness. His breath caught when you did it, like your touch alone unraveled something buried too deep for him to reach.

“You’re doing so good…You feel so good inside me, Bob.” You whispered, voice like velvet as your thumbs stroked the sides of his face. His hips stuttered forward—once, then again. A trembling gasp slipped from his throat as he sank in deeper, the pace no longer slow but no less careful. It was desperate now. Steady and aching. Each thrust felt like it was pulled from the center of him, like he was trying to carve himself into your body—leaving a part of his soul there.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room in soft, rhythmic slaps. Your breathing hitched with each one, your legs tightening around his hips to pull him in, to keep him close. You could feel how badly he was trying to keep control, how every movement was threaded with reverence and restraint. But his body–his need–was beginning to override his fear.

And you wanted that.

“Don’t hold back,” You said between soft gasps, brushing his hair back again, curling your fingers against his neck. “I want you to give it to me. Everything.”

His face twisted like he was going to cry. He dipped down and kissed you hard, and sloppily, like he was already too far gone to keep it clean. His tongue slipped into your mouth, searching for yours, and when he found it, he moaned into the kiss like he’d been starving for it. He fucked you through it–deeper now, faster–his hips rolling in a way that had your head falling back onto the pillows.

“Oh God…Oh–fuck–Bob,” You whined, your nails raking lightly down his back. He gasped at the sharp drag, chasing the friction because he liked the burn it brought him.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” He choked, voice breaking as his thrusts grew uneven. “I can’t—I can’t slow down—I n-need—”

”No…Fuck. Don’t apologize you feel so fucking good. Please––Please don’t fucking stop.” You interrupted, desperate now, feeling your stomach twisting into knots. He dropped his forehead against yours again, lips brushing yours with every breath, and drove into you harder. Deeper. Each movement was more desperate, more pleading, as if his body was trying to reach some part of you his words couldn’t. The bed shifted beneath you, the frame creaking, but neither of you noticed. Not when it felt like your souls were colliding.

You felt everything building again, fast–hot and coiled and pulsing at the center of you.

“Bob…” You whimpered, your voice cracking with need, “I-I’m close, I’m so close…” His eyes met yours again–blown wide, glassy, nodding.

“I-I’m gonna come too,” He panted, and then the question tumbled out of him, desperate and ragged–“Where—Where do you want me to…?”

Your body trembled.

“In me,” You breathed, cupping his cheek again, pulling him close, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Inside me, Bob. I want to feel it dripping out of me all day tomorrow.”

And that was it.

Bob cried out–barely a sound, more of a broken whimper–and buried himself to the hilt inside you. His hips stilled with a violent shudder, and then he came. You felt the heat of it, the way his body jerked as he pulsed inside you, moaning your name like it was the only prayer he knew. His arms locked around you, trembling as he held you through it.

And then–seconds later–you followed.

You clenched around him as your body went tight, your back arching off the bed, your lips parting in a soundless cry that turned into a whimper of his name. He felt you come around him, fluttering, pulsing, your legs tightening around his waist as your body shook with the force of it.

He kissed you through the aftershocks–soft and slow now. Like a thank you. Like an apology. Like he was still trying to give you more even after he’d already given you everything. Then he collapsed into your arms, chest heaving, lips brushing against your throat with such tenderness you were beginning to feel overwhelmed by how much he truly cared about you.

And then–out of nowhere–you laughed. It wasn’t loud or mocking. It was soft, breathy, and stunned.

“W-What? What did I––Did I do something?” He asked, lifting his head quickly, eyes wide and flushed with concern. You reached up, still giggling as your fingers gently swept the hair off his forehead.

”No,” You said with a smile so wide your cheeks ached, “No, it’s nothing like that, it’s just…I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner.” You could see the relief in Bob’s eyes when you said it, as he let out the softest laugh. A breathless, giddy kind of noise.

”I-I was so scared to mess the friendship up…” He admitted, his nose brushing yours again, voice low and shy, “But I’ve wanted you for so long…” You nodded.

”I know,” You whispered, kissing his cheek, “Me too Bob.” He let the moment linger for a heartbeat longer, then shifted slightly, wincing as he carefully pulled back. You gasped quietly at the sensation of him slipping out, a hot flutter leaving your core in the wake of it. You tightened your thighs reflexively as you sighed, and Bob caught the look on your face instantly.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concerned now, pushing your hair back from your forehead.

”Just a bit sore,” You admitted, cheeks flushed, “It’s been a while since I…Y’know.” Bob nodded, slowly getting up from the bed, pulling on the boxers he had on before.

”I’ll be right back–I’m gonna grab a warm washcloth, okay?” He said gently, giving you a gentle kiss on your lips, “Don’t move.” You smiled at him.

”Okay.” You whispered, watching his silhouette pad across the room and disappear into the bathroom, as he turned on the pale white light. You could hear the gentle rush of water, the sound of the towel drawer sliding open, and the rustle of cloth.

He returned a minute later, stopping at his dresser to pull a pair of boxer shorts and one of his old, soft t-shirts, before making his way back to you.

“A-Alright,” He whispered, setting the clothes beside you as he kneeled back onto the bed, “You tell me if anything hurts…Okay?” You nodded, watching as he eased your thighs open. You winced slightly at the sting, but bit back a gasp. He brought the cloth between your legs and cleaned you carefully, delicately, like every part of you was sacred. The warmth helped a bit with the soreness thankfully, so now all you felt was the euphoria of the come down.

Once he finished, he set the cloth on the bedside table, then helped ease the boxers up your legs. They were soft and loose around your thighs, a simple comfort, as you lifted your hips slightly to help. He then tugged the shirt gently over your head, guiding your arms through the sleeves with a kind of tender concentration like he was worried he might do it wrong.

When it was all done he let out a soft sigh, one full of warmth and the heavy pull of contentment. You were blissed out, sore in a way that felt good. And he was still looking at you with such admiration it made your heart race.

You lifted your arms in front of you.

The motion was simple–gentle, slow, but deliberate. An offering. A request. And Bob’s entire body reacted to it like it was instinct. He didn’t say anything–didn’t need to. His shoulders dipped forward as he crawled up into your arms, letting himself be folded against your chest, nuzzling in like he was coming home. He was careful, even now–making sure his weight didn’t press too much into your legs, tugging the thin top sheet off the corner of the bed before wrapping it loosely around both of your bodies.

He laid his head on your chest, just over your heart, and you felt him exhale fully for what might’ve been the first time all night. His arm slipped around your waist, his other hand curling loosely over your ribs as he pressed his cheek to the center of you, listening.

You held him close, your arms winding around his shoulders, fingers sliding gently into his hair, brushing slowly along his scalp in lazy, thoughtful strokes. He hummed–barely a sound, more of a breath–but it vibrated softly into the shirt you wore.

The sheet was thin, barely a whisper of fabric between you and the cooling air, but you didn’t need more than that. Not when you had this. The weight of him. The heat of him. Bob tilted his face slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the fabric at the underside of your breast, where your heartbeat fluttered near the surface. You smiled at him, your hand stroking down the back of his neck, feeling the way he melted into you even further.

“Y-You’re amazing Y/N…” He whispered, “And I’m so…So in love with you.”

[bluukive]

This is my first time actually making a request/ ask of any kind because I feel like such a pervert 🫣 but could you possibly write how the JJk guys would react to a reader who’s a surprise squriter? -🦎

!MDNI: Surprise? - JJK

an - I actually know nothing about sqwuirting so this might be unrealistic? Ty for the ask tho <3

ᡣ𐭩 G. Satoru

Starts crying

Like he's so dramatic about it, lower lip jutted out as he thinks 'Oh, shit. My girl's a supersoaker???', all whilst he's staring at your twitching body below him.

Tries giving you a high-five, ignoring the fact you're boneless right now. You can't really blame him, he's beyond excited. Probably just ends up slapping your thigh.

He's brought back into reality when your pussy refuses to let him go almost, gripping him like a vice.

Says he needs to see you do it again for 'scientific purposes' - he's got his phone out with the flash on, recording from all angles possible as his fingers slide in and out, curl up inside you with his face as close to your pussy as possible so that he can throw a cheeky wink at the camera.

Non-stop yapper after, like... worse than usual. He's laying on his belly in bed, legs swinging as he goes on and on about how flattered he is and how you must love him so much

ᡣ𐭩 G. Suguru

Quiet when it happens. He just stares for a while before exhaling and pulling his cock out of you. Suguru's head is tilted as he admired his still pulsing length. It as hard as ever, but the only difference now is that it's glistening with your release.

Slaps his cock against your clit, smirking when you curl in on yourself due to overstimulation. Will also whisper about how nasty of a slut you are, getting his dick wet like that

He restrains you (consensually ofc) with whatever he can. Suguru wants to see you frustrated, so he'll use anything to edge you, whether that be his tongue, fingers, toys. etc.

Dare I say when you finally orgasm and squirt again, he comes untouched too. He developed a fascination with edging just because it made that final release all the more satisfying for you both

All cuddles and praise after, but he's thinking of different ways to make you do it again

ᡣ𐭩 T. Fushiguro

Nearly stops completely, cursing as his hips falter. You've been folded in half when it happens, and the spurts of your release hit his aps, coating them in a glossy sheen that he's staring down at. Feels his heart thumping in his ears, Toji's that turned on

Smug as hell once he's recovered (acting like he didn't pull out and squeeze his cock slightly to prevent himself from cumming on the spot)

Runs his entire hand down both his abs and chest and makes you lick it all clean after staring at it. You swear it looked like he was rebooting, and you mentally log it in your head to tease him about it later.

Once that's all done, your knees are practically by your ears as he pushes your legs back even further (idek how that's possible, my fatass could never). Toji's swearing to wring you out like a damn towel, determined to make you do it again

You both end up overstimulated, Toji just couldn't stop himself from getting hard whenever he saw your pussy gush all over him

ᡣ𐭩 N. Kento

Mr. Short-circuit pt 2 yessir. Starts saying stuff like 'Did I do that to you?, 'Was that because of me?', and he knows damn well it was all him.

You squirt for the first time when he's eating you out, actually. His glasses are covered in stray drops of your orgasm, and he politely wipes them clean, all whilst taking a moment to smile privately. He's made you do that, no-one else. Nanami's face is a pretty pink throughout it all.

First makes sure you're okay. After all, your comfort is Nanami's priority above everything else. He wants verbal confirmation that you felt good, a nod isn't good enough.

Once you give him that shaky 'yes', something shifts in Nanami. He's borderline clinical with how he touches and inspects your pussy after. His glasses are off, and his eyes remain trained on your pussy whilst he's fucking into you.

A thumb stays on your clit throughout it all, and he's changing the pace of the focused digit. When Nanami feels like you're close to orgasm, he slows down. He's unintentionally edging you, but neither of you are complaining when your back arches off the bed for the nth time that night

Thanks you when you squirt, for trusting him this much

ᡣ𐭩 S. Ryomen

Pretends that it's an inconvenience when you accidentally squirt on him. He's actually hiding how obsessed he is with you at that moment

Grabs your face, practically snarling when he degrades you. Sukuna's hissing out commands, talking about how you've soiled him. It's apparently now your duty to squirt again with ONLY his permission

It's become a challenge for him to make you soak his body over and over, and he's dragging his tongue all over your cunt when it happens (even if that means he has to pull his cock/s out of you)

Calls you weak multiple times. Frankly doesn't care if you're crying, he'll just lick the tears right back up. Time to recover from an orgasm is practically non-existent

Develops a need to have you ride his thigh at least once a day whilst he's on his throne. It's a way for him to humiliate you, making you buck your hips like you're in heat until he can feel the wetness coat the thick muscle.

[b0kevi]

Okay so I loveddddd your writing of the let’s make out headcanons!!! Can you do a version where the character says it to the reader? Your writing is so good and you write the characters reallly well!!

the house wardens + jamil saying “let’s make out” every time YOU do something hot

summary: every time you do something attractive the housewardens can’t help but say ‘let’s make out’

trope: established relationship, suggestive themes, hurt/comfort, reassurance

info: name calling, cursing, self doubt, they/them pronouns, gender neutral reader, not proofread

characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, jamil, vil, idia, malleus

w/c: riddle: 373, leona: 398, azul: 346, kalim: 338 jamil: 366, vil: 424 idia: 424, malleus: 388

a/n: tysm! I always get worried i’ll mischaracterize someone but I really appreciate that <3 also sorry this took so long! I started a new job

Riddle

doesn’t know how to ask, will make up an excuse

gets shy and full on blushes

“we should make out.”

“w-what?” you accidentally painted the leaves instead of the rose.

“rule 879 states to make out with your partner when the sun is facing east after the first set of painted roses.”

you blinked. you were still working on the first bush of roses, you only painted three while there was still a lot more to go.

“we haven’t finished yet.”

riddles ears slowly turn pink. “it’s practically done.”

you could tell it was a lie but he looked so cute trying to justify his reasons.

“y’know you don’t have to make up stuff for us to make out, you could just ask.”

his whole face starts to turn a different color, “I did not make that up! it is the queens rules and I must follow them!”

riddle would never admit he was in fact making it up because you looked absolutely stunning, he loved spending alone time with you. the two of you were painting the roses, riddle was going to reward you with dessert but he couldn’t wait. you just being there, painting was making him flush and wanted to kiss you badly.

you laughed then grabbed him by his bow tie, pulling him closer to your face.

“well then, who am I to question the house warden? go on, you’re not going to break a rule aren’t you riddle?” you smirked as you fiddle with the ends of his bow tie.

riddle moved forward before he could process anything. his body moved faster than his brain so he lunged back, flustered.

“w-wait! ahem. it’s also the queens rule to do it in private… someone could see…”

“hmm what if it was the rule to do it in public? would you do it?”

“absolutely not! I don’t want to hear it from ace or trey… please let’s just go inside before I change my mind…” riddle was already rushing inside hand in hand with you, using his other hand to hide his red face.

“you’re the one that said it was a rule, you’re going to break that rule now mr. roseheart?”

he sighs, you’ll be the death of him.

Leona

nonchalant king

it’s not a suggestion, you ARE making out right then and there

there’s nothing more attractive to leona than you claiming him as your own.

he’s always been second to everyone and everything. but seeing you like this?

“we’re going to make out.” it’s not a question, he’s demanding it.

leona was waiting in the botanical garden for you, enjoying the quiet when he started hearing students near by. he tried to ignore it but he suddenly heard your voice, he wasn’t super interested in the conversation until he heard his name.

“you’re really dating leona? I bet he buys you whatever you want right?”

“what a gold digger. you’re only dating him for his money. plus he’s a prince, you hit the jackpot.”

“too bad he’s the second prince, not much going on. you should have tried for malleus.”

leona was getting pissed, he was going to march his way over there until he heard your booming voice.

“you’re lucky I don’t slap the shit out of you two. it’s none of your business, but for the record I am not dating him for his money. I couldn’t care less and he’s still a prince who has more class than you.”

your face darkened as you stalked close to them

“I’m dating leona for him, he’s the most sweetest and thoughtful person I know, and he knows how to treat people right instead of taking out his jealousy on other people.”

you were defending him, leona knew you could defend yourself but you were also defending him.

leona could have easily stepped in before the whole situation started but seeing how things played out, he’s glad he didn’t.

“is there a problem here?” leona was towering over the two as they were about to continue. shutting them up they shook their heads and left with a scoff.

“babe I’m sor-“

“we’re making out. now.” leona tugged you behind a tree, leaning down to attach his lips to yours, leaving you no room to deny, caging you in his arms.

leona is acting like a starved man by the way hes devouring your lips, leaving you no time to think.

“that was kind of hot herbivore.” it was extremely hot to him but he’s just going to show you how attractive he found you defending him was. just wait until you get back to his room.

Azul

full of bull

also will make an excuse, says it’s his payment for doing smth for you

“y/n dear, could you meet me in my office to discuss something.”

what did you do now… you don’t remember doing anything wrong.

you were helping out in the lounge since it was busier than usual.

once azul closed the door shut,

“I propose a deal. we make out right now and later.. and I’ll give you the day off tomorrow with some of our newest drinks that i know you love.”

honestly, azul has been stressed all day and is just throwing out random ideas to have an excuse to make out with you.

he’s not going to just straight up ask, this is a give and take world.

“uhm, but it’s still pretty busy out there—“

“I assure you they’re capable of running things for a few minutes. or hour..”

you were his escape and he needed it badly, it was a madhouse out there. he usually could handle it but it also didn’t help how attractive you looked while taking peoples orders, persuading them into buying more than what they came for.

“please my pearl, remember that time I babysat grim? you still owe me for that.”

that one time that happened two months ago that you’ll never let happen again.

you remember azul used that the last time he wanted to make out with you, but you weren’t going to rain down on his parade just yet.

you knew azul was just going to keep persuading you until you agreed. he would never outright say he wants to kiss you no, he has a reputation to uphold.

you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck and smashing your lips against his.

he let out a squeal from shock, he didn’t expect that.

his face flush from that embarrassing noise he made but held you close, deepening the kiss as he felt his stress melt away. he’s not planning on letting you go anytime soon, the outside world can wait and deal with themselves.

Kalim

he just loves kissing you, you don’t have to be doing anything and he’ll still say it

will get pouty and pepper you with kisses until you agree

“let’s make out!”

"kalim... we're supposed to be studying right now."

"we have! don't I get a reward for studying? sometimes once I finish jamil gives me a treat!" kalim has been staring at you for the past 20 minutes.

you promised jamil to study with kalim and make sure he gets his work done but its not going so well.

"okay but you only answered two questions then started staring at me."

"you look so pretty! your serious face is so cute, how am I supposed to focus when you look like that! I want to make out with you!” he doesn’t give you time to say anything, kalim is already pouting and putting his best puppy dog eyes while peppering small kisses across your face.

“pleaassseee, just a small break then i’ll do my work! i promise!! pleaseee let me kiss youuu” he whines as he wraps his arms around your neck, practically on top of you while leaving sad kisses on your cheek.

“I need my daily y/n kisses or I can’t make it throughout the day! i’ve been deprived for so long…”

“I gave you a morning kiss, a kiss when I saw you, a kiss when you asked for one, a kiss when I left…”

kalim furrowed his eyebrows, “that doesn’t count! I need my daily make out kisses, completely different!”

you laughed at his kicked puppy look.

how could you say no to that face?

sighing you state, “alright. just for a minute then if you get an answer right i’ll give you a reward.”

“kisses reward?”

you nodded, “kisses reward.”

he giggling as he won, he slams his lips towards yours. playing with your hair as he deepens the kiss, he smiles every time you make little noises. kalim absolutely loves to kiss you silly and will do it every chance he gets.

Jamil

he just needs a break

usually says it at his breaking point so it’s really rough and quick sometimes

“let’s make out.”

it caught you so off guard. Jamil had pulled you into a storage room, you were carrying some paperwork you had to turn in but they soon were scattered from how quickly jamil pulled you in.

“w-what? babe I-“

“please, it will be quick I just…” his hand cupping your face as his lips brushed against yours, muttering against them

“I need this.” he murmured breathily before pressing his lips firmly while running his fingers through your hair.

“you looked so hot earlier,” he pushed you against the wall, gently squeezing your hip while traveling down kisses to your jawline

you didn't know how to react. it was rare when jamil showed pda especially this passionate in public. well you two were stuck in a closet but still anyone could walk in at any moment.

“you putting kalim and the others in their place.. you were so assertive.” his lips never leaving an inch away from you, “very hot of you.” he smirked as he looked up at you through his eyelashes.

he loves seeing how flustered you get because of him. he may not show much interest in public but that’s just because he’s a private person and loves teasing you when you two are alone.

he loves your little reactions.

“I-I just wanted them to give you a break”

“I appreciate you so much.” jamil sighs between your lips, rubbing circles on your hip while deepening the kiss.

jamil knew he should get back to his things but you were so addicting. how could he leave you right now?

he groans as he pulled away to look at you, smirking at your blown out expression

“let me show you how much I appreciate you, later tonight.” he winked before getting one last kiss then picking up your papers, leaving the room to turn in your work as if nothing happened.

jamil was completely unfazed unless you looked real close but you were red the rest of the day, clearly not thinking straight.

you will never get used to this side of jamil.

Vil

hear me out, he's secretly a freak

stress reliever

“are you sure it looks good?”

“my dear.. we’re not going out. we’re making out. right now.”

“w-huh?? but my outfit… is it not, or my makeup?”

the two of you were getting ready for date night, you had bought a new outfit for this occasion that you really liked but now you weren’t so sure if it looked good now.

vil on the other hand couldn’t look away. you looked absolutely radiant and you’re over here having second thoughts? please, he obviously needs to show you how good you look.

“my love you look stunning, there’s no need to worry.” vil was kissing you all over, you had some lipstick stains but he wasn’t going to tell you about that yet.

“baby.. we’re going to be late to our reservation..”

“we can reschedule or go somewhere else.”

vil couldn’t care less, he needed to make out with you now and show you how much he loves you.

“v-vil you’re going to mess up our makeup…”

he leans down, leaving more stains scattered across your neck and collarbone as he smirks against your warm skin.

“good. you look even more divine like this.”

he guides you to his bed not once breaking the kiss as he sets you down

“you’re perfect love, this outfit compliments you so well and you’re makeup looks even better now~” he smirks, caressing your face looking at you longingly

you turn to look at yourself through the mirror to see all the lipstick stains he left. you blush over how much of a mess you look.

“v-vil! I can’t go out like this! it’s going to take another 40 minutes to take this off and redo it.”

“why not? I think you look breathtaking, why not show everyone your beauty?” he mused, still trailing kisses over you.

“vil your makeup is messed up too” you state as you try to fix the smudges around his lips but he keeps diving back down into you.

“does it look like I can right now darling? right now I need to show you how much you mean to me. we can go out another day, I have all I need right here.”

vil cages you down before roughly yet gracefully devouring your lips.

he’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel comfortable in your own body just as you make him comfortable enough to look like an absolute mess in front of you, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Idia

he would mumble it, thinking you didn't hear it

he didn’t mean it! (he totally meant it he just doesn’t know how to ask)

"we should totally make out..."

"okay."

"wh-HUHH?? y-you heard that?? I-I didn't mean it!”

you were helping out idia with some equipment he needed to fix. you picked up a couple things from watching him tinker plus this was a great opportunity to spend time with him.

idia wasn’t in the best mindset today so he kept messing up and getting frustrated when it still wasn’t working right so you wanted to give it a try to help him out. you fixed it just like that in seconds.

he watched you in shock. not only did you fix in on the first try but the face you make when you’re focused was just too much for him.

a strand of hair fell in front of your face, he wanted so badly to tuck it behind your ear but that would be totally cringe otome vibes.

“idy you can ask if you want to, I won’t judge.”

the tips of his hair are pastel pink as he fidgets with his sleeves.

“w-what the… can I exist and restart.. there’s gotta be an autosave before this…” he murmurs mostly to himself under his breath

even when he really wants to kiss you, he still gets in his head so even when he wants to, you have to initiate it.

you hold onto his hands and kiss his cheek. “no need to restart. this route is perfect.”

he gasps while looking at you with full blown out eyes, staring at you like you just deleted his saved file.

“you’re an ultra rare SSR…”

you laugh as you place your lips to his. you couldn’t get enough of this dork.

idia fiddles with the ends of your shirt as he ease into the kiss. you’re too good to him, he doesn’t know how or why you picked him but he’s beyond grateful.

and just like that something flipped inside him, he curled his hand around your neck before taking the lead. he still has self doubt so he’ll slip up but when you encourage him he grows confident.

leaving you two breathless with his hair full pink with blue accents. he smiles at you before kissing your temple then diving back into your lips, holding your hand with his free one to ground himself, letting him know this is okay and he’s doing good.

“I must have crazy gacha luck to have pulled you..”

Malleus

you breathe and he’ll say he wants to make out

100% whip, simp, yearning man

“child of man. I believe we should make out.”

“hmm?”

the two of you were taking a nightly stroll that you usually do mostly every night when you can.

it was a peaceful night, you would share things that happened during the day or whatever popped in your mind as you held hands.

the conversation soon died down into a comfortable silence as you took in sight of the night sky.

malleus was too busy staring at you to appreciate the night. the way the moonlight hit your face just right making you eternal which made his face feel warm.

he wanted nothing more than to take your breath away if you’ll let him.

“I would very much like to kiss you. I want us to have a make out session and leave you breathless to show you how you make me feel every time I lay eyes on you.”

your face heated up with every word malleus spoke.

you stopped walking to process his request. malleus is a gentleman so will only make a move if you’ll let him, if you don’t want to he’ll understand. he will get pouty but wants nothing more than for you to be comfortable.

he waits patiently but has that longing look in his eyes with a hint of desire.

“o-okay.” you nod, still flush as malleus steps closer, one hand caressing your face as if you’re a piece of glasswork then dipping down to capture your lips.

he pulls back to see your face then dives back in. each time becomes longer than the previous kiss. he sure was making you breathless.

you finally had to pull back to get some air but malleus goes down to nuzzle your neck, occasionally leaving kisses.

“you are absolutely ravishing child of man. what you’re feeling is how I feel every time you’re near, and I adore it. I would want nothing more than to leave you sweet kisses and show the world my queen.”

you don’t know what makes you more breathless, malleus’s words or his kisses.

“you sweet talker, get over here.” you needed to shut him up before you exploded. you pulled him down and smashed your lips to his.

malleus was in paradise.

﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒

a/n: that scenario has been on my mind for leona but the others idk what to do T-T sorry if this is short! have a great day/night !

[bizarrelovetriangel]

okay mc running to the boys arms and just staying there saying I feel safe here

nooooo don't fall into their trap you'll never escape it's like a blackhole that'll just suck you in. maybe literally

sylus

- will absolutely drop everything he's doing from the moment you run into his arms. if he's in the middle of doing something like working on a weapon or one of his motorcycles, his focus will 100% shift to you. if he's in the middle of a phone call, he'd give them the "i'll call you back" just to hug you back tightly but gently

- he'll def tease you at first and be like, "looking for the brooch, kitten? what're you up to?" and that grin of his will melt into a soft smile when you tell him that you just want to be there because you feel safe in his arms.

- hearing those words absolutely mean the world to him. all his life, he's been rejected and feared and even now he still intimidates people but to know that the one person who's special to him feels safe in his arms ????? it'll really hit him that he's Loved and seen for his true self and just !!!! he'd be so so so happy

- arms are preoccupied indefinitely

caleb

- will also immediately give his undivided attention to you from the moment he sees you running towards him. like if he was in the middle of assembling some models? it could disintegrate for all he cares. pip-squeak is here. he'll always be prepared to catch you and welcome you into his arms. mc loves doing this ever since they were little.

- caleb has always been mc's safe place since Day One and he knows that. whenever there's thunder and lightning during storms, she'd go to caleb and he'd literally cover her ears and hold her just so she could calm down and fall asleep. she might've grown out of that habit but caleb being her safe place will never change ever ever

- he knows that you feel safe in his arms but still, hearing you say it out loud directly will make him feel so fulfilled and proud. like everything is right. he's made it his life mission to be your protector, so for you to come to him even when there's no danger involved, that you're just relaxed and comfortable in his arms, just like a home would be, he'd take it as his greatest achievement even beyond all the awards and recognitions he's ever received in his life.

- once you're in his arms, he'll embrace you so softly as he always does. but be careful what you wish for — he might not let you go easy. if you have to go to the bathroom, too bad. you gotta wrestle him or tickle him in order to escape. good luck <3

zayne

- okay so funny story just this morning i saw this art of zayne on twitter of mc running into his arms and it's just so precious

- zayne will quite literally drop whatever he has in hands if he sees you running to him. at first, he will be worried about why you were running, but he'd relax when he sees that there's no danger and he senses that you're just there for cuddles. he'd give no further questions and embrace you softly

- like caleb, zayne had made it his goal to protect you in his own ways, so if you tell him that you feel safe in his arms, he'd freeze up for a hot sec and then he'd be flustered, shake his head and chuckle, and then he won't be able to stop smiling for the rest of the day because that means a lot to him

- if he's at the hospital in his office, yvonne might have to cut off the moment short because zayne would get distracted and hold you for so long that he'd be just a little late to wherever he's being summoned. and his colleagues will be playfully dramatic about it like, gasp, dr zayne fell a few seconds behind schedule ????? and when they see that it's because of you, they'd just be like "that explains it" bc they just know how important you are to zayne. they'd catch him looking happier than usual and they'll know it's because of you.

xavier

- at first he'd be too sleepy to be aware of what's happening around him. if you run into his arms, he'd hold you out of instinct, half-awake and everything. he probably won't even ask why you suddenly decided to hug him like that. he'll just accept his fate.

- but if he's not sleepy, like let's say he's in the middle of playing a video game and you suddenly decided to dive into his arms, he'll automatically envelope his arms around you. he still might not ask tbh lmao but if you tell him why you're in his arms, he'd become so cuddly he might as well become Bunbun

- "i'm glad to hear that." his words might be simple but he really will be overjoyed about it. he literally spent centuries just to be by your side, doing everything in his power just to keep you and your precious heart beating, even if it meant possibly seeing you fall for someone else. and so he'll never take for granted the fact that you chose him, time and time again. knowing that you feel safe in his arms, xavier will continue to fight anything to keep it that way

rafayel

- like sylus, he'd drop a playful remark at first too. if he sees you running to him, let's say while in the middle of painting, he'd open his arms wide open to catch you and then act like a hostage once you wrap your arms around him. "wha — what are you doing of all a sudden? is this a trick?" but he wouldn't dare to move away. not when you look so peaceful in his arms.

- "it's nothing. i just feel safe here." rafayel will become a blushing mess, you know how he gets. "that's my line, miss bodyguard." rafayel has always felt safe with you. after all, you are is anchor, his beloved bride. he's the happiest and most comfortable with you.

- so for you to say the same back to him, rafayel will definitely be surprised for a minute, repeating your words over and over again until it clicks. then he'd tighten his hold on you as the feeling of pride and content overwhelms him

- he'll absolutely hold you for as long as possible. he will attempt to paint while hugging you, do not underestimate his skills. in fact, hearing your words might just motivate him to paint a whole different, newly-inspired art piece, because now his heart feels warm and racing. he feels like he can do anything. you, out of all people, feels safe in his arms? he feels invincible. fishie's vibrating with joy just a little. but oh no, maybe he can't work in this condition, after all. mc, let's go out for a walk ~

[written-in-knife]

Hi! Could I please request something with Jade. Maybe angst/comfort and a bit suggestive. Imagine that the reader/yuu has found a way back home and starts kind of avoiding Jade due to not wanting to leave him but also not really feeling like fitting in in Twisted Wonderland. How would this play out, and how would Jade take action? Or if you've got your own plot or genre, that's fine too!

Thanks! Really liked your recent fic about Rook :)

Easy to Read

Jade Leech x gn!reader, established relationship

they/them pronouns, Jade calls the reader darling, angst/comfort, open ended

Word Count: 1882

The merform pulls are going SO GOOD Y'ALL. IM JUST SO PLEASED. IM NOT AT ALL UPSET OR TAKING IT OUT ON JADE IN THIS FIC. HA HA. HA HAHA. Anyways. I love getting a plot prompt, it's really hard to come up with ideas sometimes, so thank you! It's a little shorter than my other ones, but I do really like how it turned out, I hope y'all do too!

After so long, Crowley finally approached you with the news you'd been waiting for. He could send you home, as soon as you wanted. You heard the undertones in his voice that indicated he would prefer sooner rather than later, but with how many messes you'd cleaned up for him and the outrage it would inevitably spark from the many friends you'd made, he had no room to demand you leave that night.

You were pleased. You were supposed to be pleased. This is what you had wanted all along, right? To go home? This world was a place of magic so far removed from where you were born. You had no place in it, you didn't belong here.

These thoughts kept spiraling in your head from the second Crowley told you the news while you debated how you were supposed to tell your friends that you likely weren't ever going to see them again. How you were supposed to tell Jade... How were you supposed to tell Jade? He'd always been able to see straight through you, always able to tell when something was off and almost always able to fix it before you even said it out loud. How were you supposed to tell the one person who understood you so perfectly-- sometimes better than you knew yourself-- that you were leaving and probably never coming back? You weren't ready to face it yet. Despite the undertones, Crowley had given you time, and you were going to take as much of it as you could.

For the first few days, you tried to just play it cool and act normal, but Jade could tell something was off. He always could. You may as well have been an open book to him, all your problems laid out on the pages bolded and underlined. He knew there was something wrong, but for once, he couldn't figure out what it was. You could tell by the way he looked at you, the question behind his eyes as tried to look for the answers in yours. But you weren't ready yet. He watched as you started to shy away from him. It was the little things at first; avoiding eye contact when you were alone which lead to too much eye contact when you realized what you were doing, the way your fingers twitched when he reached for your hand, as if you wanted to pull it away before he could grab hold, the way you held onto him a little tighter and a little longer whenever he had his arms around you. He could see all the signs, plain as day, but the answer still eluded him. He could garner nothing from your friends, there were no hints at Ramshackle. He hated not knowing, but assumed you would tell him when you were ready. But after the first few days, you started to pull away more. You stopped going to the Mostro Lounge to see him during his shifts, you were going out of your way to avoid him after classes let out by following Ace and Deuce to Heartslabyul instead, you'd even called to cancel a date the two of you had set up a month prior. You were so easy to read, so why couldn't he figure this out?

As easy as it was for Jade to read you, it was even easier for Floyd to read Jade. Perks of being with someone since birth. He knew something was up between the two of you from the first stray eye twitch. So he watched. He watched Jade's reactions as you started to pull further and further away, watched his brother slowly unraveling with worry. Not enough for most people to notice, but Floyd saw. He saw the weird, lost look in his eyes before he could slap on that usual neutral smile and the disappointment on his face after another shift that you didn't show up in the middle of. Floyd wanted to believe you two would work it out on your own, but it was really getting on his nerves. So when Jade actually zoned out during a meeting about the lounge, Floyd finally lost it.

"Just go talk to Shrimpy already!" Floyd groaned loudly, draping himself dramatically over the couch. "You're killing the mood!"

"I apologize, I wasn't aware that my relationship troubles were interfering with your good time." Jade shot back with a sarcastic smile on his face. "I assure you, I will endeavor to think quieter thoughts as to not ruin your day."

"As much as I hate to admit it, Floyd is right." Azul sighed from his desk, Floyd giving him a shit eating grin that was promptly ignored. "You've been off your game for well over a week now, I think it's high time to cut the dramatics and go confront the problem."

Jade's tense smile thinned as his eye started twitching again. "And how do you propose I confront a problem that I have no knowledge of and haven't been informed about?"

"What, they haven't told you what's wrong?" Azul asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"They haven't told me that there is anything wrong."

"So then why are you just moping about it?" Floyd grumbled. "Go ask! I dunno if Shrimpy bites, but they ain't gonna bite harder than I am if you don't get your shit together!"

Jade scoffed, but bit his tongue. He knew he was being silly about it, just wishing that you would come forward with your worries on your own when it was becoming more and more clear that you had no intention of doing so. Not without a nudge. There was also a small part of him that worried that you'd disagreed with something he'd done and were afraid to talk to him about it. Afraid of him. He usually delighted in people having a healthy fear of him, but you? The idea that you could be afraid of him hurt more than he cared to admit. Floyd was right, he had to go talk to you. He didn't want to corner you, but there seemed to be no other way to be alone with you anymore.

He waited another day to put his plan into action. It was hardly a plan, to be perfectly honest. Jade had watched you follow Ace and Deuce to Heartslabyul after class again, and went to Ramshackle to wait for you to come back. He didn't know what else to do. Hours ticked by, a pot of tea long cold and he could swear he had dug grooves into the floor from all the pacing he'd done by the time you returned home. He stopped in front of the fireplace as he heard the door open, followed by a loud and long sigh before you headed towards the lounge. You froze when you turned the corner and saw him standing there, his ever present smile still on his face but it looked forced. You shuffled in place for a moment before entering the lounge to drop your bag on the couch, not looking at him.

"Hey Jade." You said, clearing your throat to try to get rid of the strain behind your voice. "What's going on?"

"I could ask you the same." He'd been debating how to approach the topic while he was waiting for you, not sure if it was better to be blunt or to ease into it. The heat of the moment ultimately made the decision for him.

"What do you mean...?"

"We don't need to play this game, darling, I've barely seen you in a week."

"I've been busy..." It was a weak argument on your part, and you knew it. You couldn't look up at him, eyes glued to the floorboards as you lied through your teeth. You weren't ready yet.

"You've been busy before, this is not that." He took a couple tentative steps towards you, like he was trying not to scare you off. "Please, talk to me. I only wish to help."

You weren't ready yet. "I don't think you can..."

"I'd like to try."

The abnormally soft tone to his voice is what finally pushed you over the edge. Tears blurred your vision before you could stop them, a massive lump in your throat cutting off any defense you could try to form in a pitiful whimper as you did your best to just not start sobbing. Jade was in front of you in two steps, gathering you up tenderly in his arms as you desperately tried to wipe away the tears before your face could become overrun. You weren't ready yet, but you were out of time. Crowley had pulled you aside a few times already asking for your decision, getting more and more impatient with each visit.

"Crowley found a way for me to go h-home." You managed to choke out around the sobs in your throat. You felt Jade tense up for a moment before some invisible tension was lifted off of him, making him relax against you with a light chuckle.

"Oh, darling, is that all?"

You paused for a second at the audacity of the question, as if all your worries meant nothing. "What do you mean, is that all?!" You bit out, smacking his chest and taking a step back. "I'm going home! I'll never... I'll never get to see you again..."

He frowned, blinking in confusion for a second before reaching out and wiping a stream of tears off your face. "You've... already decided then?"

"What?"

"You said Crowley found you a way home, not that he was forcing you to take it," he explained, "meaning you have a choice to stay or go."

"I..." You hesitated with a sniffle. He was right, you did have a choice, but... "I don't belong here, Jade. I was never supposed to be here."

"But you are." He cut in quickly before you could go on, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "You are here, whether you were "supposed" to be or not." He pulled you back in against his chest, one hand carding through your hair and the other tight against your back. "I often feel I don't belong on land, but I am here. I have found purpose on land, I've found hobbies and interests and love on land, even feeling that I don't belong." The determination in his voice made you cry a little harder. "Just because I am out of place does not mean I don't want to be here... Do you want to be here?"

You nodded into his chest, snaking your arms around his waist. "I just don't know if I should be." You admitted, no louder than a whisper.

"That is something only you can decide." He muttered into your hair before pressing his lips to the top of your head. "Whatever you decide, I will respect it... but if I may be a bit selfish?" You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes as he gave you a sad but hopeful smile, pressing one hand to your cheek again. "I would prefer it if you stayed."

You didn't have to say it out loud, he could see the answer behind your eyes. You were always so easy to read.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

[7ndipity]

Them With A Plus-Size Partner

Ot7 x Plus Size Reader

Summary: What the members would be like with a plus-sized partner

Warnings: mentions of body image issues and fatphobia (I tried to keep it light tho), slightly suggestive, swearing, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to my darling @bethanysnow for this request. This is something I’ve actually wanted to write for a while but for some reason hadn’t gotten around to. It’s essentially just more dating headcanons but with a focus on plus sized partners bc we need more representation in the fandom dammit!

Masterlist

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Jin:

He’s said in the past that his ideal s/o was someone on the chubbier side, but I honestly think he might struggle a bit with what all that actually entails? Not that he’s shallow or anything, but with the Korean beauty standard as harsh as it is, I think he would be confronted with a fair bit of internal stuff he needs to address.

He would absolutely adore you, though. I see him becoming friends first, just based on his personality, instantly becoming each other's comfort person, but I also think it takes him a while to fully trust and let himself be open with someone. He tends to internalize a lot in favor of keeping things light and unserious, so if he allows himself to be vulnerable with you, you’re a member of one of the most elite clubs ever.

I know a lot people think he would maybe have quite a bit of ‘culture shock’, for lack of a better term, when it comes to things like the treatment of plus sized people, but as we’ve seen on his more recent solo content, he’s a lot more observant than we realize. Not to say there won’t be moments where he’s caught off guard or misses something passive aggressive, but I think he’s a lot better at navigating those situations than we’d expect.

Like, we’ve seen how he handles a lot social conventions and pressures, he very polite but genually dosen’t give a fuck. He’s really good at casually reassuring and defending you(like when he shut down the guy on run!Seokjin who was teasing his co-host). He knows what it's like to be judged only by how you look, and so I could see him being pretty defensive/protective over you at times because of that.

Would be the type to discreetly have clothes at his place that would fit you and waits to bring them out when the opportunity presents, like “oh you’re cold? Here, have this sweater!”

If topics like diets and weight loss make you uncomfortable, he would be very diligent about changing the topic, regardless of who was around. Your comfort is always his top priority no matter what.

He would love date nights in together where you can cook together. Even if you’re not into cooking necessarily, he’ll happily turn it into your own personal cooking show,(he would totally have one of those ‘kiss the chef’ aprons)

He’s surprisingly touchy-feely with you. Like it’s not even in a sexual sense, he just takes a great deal of comfort in feeling you in his hands. Love love loves laying on you, you’re his new favorite pillow, and he loves having you lay on him as well. He won’t hear of you trying to argue and say you’re too heavy, he thinks you’re perfect and he wants you on him at every possible opportunity.

Yoongi:

It’s well known that Yoongi’s very introspective and understanding. He’s the type of person where body size either doesn’t even cross his mind or he’s very conscious of it.

Not in a bad way, though. It’s moreso in the sense of yeah, he’s aware you’re bigger, but it’s usually just a simple detail about you like your hair or eye color. But if you’re having a bad body image day or someone’s trying to give you shit, he’s all over it before you can even blink, hyping you up and shutting down any negative comments.

On a more intimate one-on-one level, this mf doesn't give a single fuck about how you look. You could be dressed to the nines or vegged out in sweats on the couch and he would still be swooning over you

He loves how soft and squishy you are? Like we’re talking peak cat behavior with him laying on you, doing the squishy paw move as he buries his face in your chest. You’re basically his favorite napping spot and stim toy  

Always encourages you to eat well and not waste a thought on diets. You’ll come home after a shitty day and your favorite food/dessert will just be waiting in the fridge for you. He’ll play it off though if you ask him. 

“What’s this?”

“It was on sale at the store,” He replies, barely looking up from his phone. “Why? Do you not like that one anymore?” 

“No, I do-” 

“Good.” 

And that’s it, no questions, no admitting he went to three different stores to find it, just his secret little grin when he sees how happy it made you.

If you’re feeling bad about yourself, he always addresses it very quickly and simply, not wanting to dignify them much by giving them more of your time than absolutely necessary. Just "That's bullshit. I think the real issue we need to worry about is your eyesight, because if you think you’re anything other gorgeous, we need to get you some fucking glasses.” And that would be it, he’d give you a kiss on the head and walk away.

If it was really serious tho, he would listen and try to help and comfort you. He knows he's not gonna change how you feel with some grand gesture, it takes slow, consistent work, and he's committed to being there with you every step of the way reminding you how much he loves you.

He would 100% make sure that there are clothes you can wear in his closet but will never say anything about it. 

I imagine him being very clingy in the mornings, arm looped around your waist keeping you close. If you try to get up, he’ll yank you back into the bed, half-laying on top of you now like a stubborn cat, face buried in your chest as he grumbles about it being too early and you ‘can’t leave him here like this’(this being alone in bed).

Hobi:

As soon as he laid eyes on you, he was smitten. Everything about you just drew him in. Your eyes, your smile, your curves. God he bet you look beautiful when you danced…

Cut to Jimin smacking his arm to snap him back to reality and him immediately coming over to introduce himself.

There would be no friends first phase this time with Hobi, or if there is, it’s extremely brief because he genuinely can’t keep a secret worth shit, especially not when it involves how head over heels he is for you. Like, even he doesn’t fully understand it, you’re like his muse or something(Mona Lisa starts playing lol)

All that aside tho, I think he would have the most like random(?) hurdles to get over in regard to dating someone bigger? Not that he’s oblivious or anything, but I think growing up with the Korean beauty standard being drilled into their heads so much, he’s gonna have some slightly skewed perceptions and ideas about bigger bodies that he’d have to unlearn in order for the relationship to grow properly.

Like, there are just so many little things that affect bigger bodies that some people don’t seem to realize, like even something as simple as whether or not the chairs at a restaurant have arms, or if a shop has really narrow pathways can affect whether we can navigate those places or feel comfortable? Once he becomes aware of those things tho, he’s watching for them everywhere.

Is appalled at how restricted and isolated plus size fashion is. Like excuse the fuck outta you, his baby will be wearing whatever designer brand they want, even if he has to threaten a few of his brand deals to get his way(lowkey mafia au Hoseok right here, just saying)

I think the main place he might struggle would be if you had trouble with keeping up with his lifestyle. Like he’s constantly on the move, going to events, working on new projects, touring. It’s hard for even the fittest person to keep up with, let alone if you have mobility issues or get tired more easily. It might take some work to figure out the balance between the two of you, but it honestly helps him remember to breathe? Like it’s okay to not go at breakneck speed through everything,

Is your biggest hype man ever tho, always gushing over how gorgeous you look and how lucky he feels to have you in his life.

Gives you soo many happy squishy hugs. He’s such cuddly softie and you’re literally the perfect hug shape in his opinion, so you’re getting cuddled, snuggled, and squeezed at every opportunity

Namjoon:

Man has written too many lines about bigger/thicker partners in his songs for him not to be into plus sized partners, alright? Like the proof is literally there in black and white.

He’s definitely the type to be friends first, not for lack of interest in you, but because of his own hesitancies and trust issues. He’s had his trust betrayed enough in the past that he tends to keep people at arms length at first till he knows that he’s safe with them.

Once you’re together though, the man is obsessed with you. Like his hands are constantly resting or holding onto your hips and thighs or caressing the sides of your waist. Like for someone who’s claimed to not be very into skinship, he’s very into it with you.

It’s no secret that this dude is BUILT, okay? Like those arms are made for lifting and manhandling you about. And he loves that with a bigger partner he doesn’t have to be worried about breaking you. Goodness knows one good spank from him would probably send a person flying across the room if they don't have some sort of padding.

On a more innocent level though, he’s also very soft with you. You regularly end up staying up half the night talking about thoughts and feelings that you don’t usually feel safe or comfortable sharing with anyone else. He values intellectual intimacy even more than physical intimacy. 

I really see him dating someone in the arts, but maybe not necessarily in the music industry. He would enjoy a slight level of separation between your two worlds. Like if you’re an artist, one of the things he loves about going to events to support you is how in your spaces he’s “Y/n’s boyfriend”. Not RM, not BTS, just Namjoon. Your Namjoon.

I also think despite how observant and in tune he thinks he is, he would still catch himself falling for and having to unlearn certain fat stereotypes. Just like “My being fat does not inherently mean that I can cook.” “Right, sorry…”

Honestly I think he’s the most casual with his partner? Like he will accidentally call your bro or dude(or not accidentally, if you’re cool with it). There will be moments where he needs to talk about something and he'll just be like “Can I have a bro moment?” “Sure, *makes show of dabbing him up* whatcha need?”

He’s also soo fucking protective of you though, like he will not tolerate anyone even looking at you the wrong way. If you’re having a tough day or not feeling your best, he will do everything in his power to make you feel better, or at least make sure you know that he’s there for you.

Jimin:

Tbh, I think out of everyone, Chim would struggle the most with dating a bigger person. And most of it is because of his own internal complexes. 

Like he grew up doing a lot of martial arts and dance where there is such a focus on what your body can do and how it looks. That combined with how he’s been critiqued in the past for looking ‘chubby’(which is such bullshit, but anyone who has rounder features is labeled that way regardless of their actual weight bc people are dumb) it’s made him think far more critically and not constructively about body.

Despite his own issues, he has a very soft image about what he sees as beauty. One of my favorite clips is him telling Joon about how he saw this elderly couple and how their soft, caring manner for each other really resonated with something in his heart, and I think he really wants that for him and his partner as well. He wants a love that is gentle like that, where you are each other’s safe landing point.

Which is why I think that he would date a teddy bear. Like I’m picturing soft, kinda nerdy science teacher/librarian vibes(totally not leaning into his kindergarten teacher vibes lol). He’s drawn to your cozy aura, and loves how comfortable and safe you make him feel. Lowkey think it plays a little bit into a noona thing? But that’s a topic for another day lol.

Y’all definitely have the whiny boyfriend - calming partner vibe(I just picture that meme of Grizzy from we bear bears crushing NomNoms to his chest lol)

He’s lowkey soo protective of you tho? Like he knows that you can technically take care of yourself, but if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable, or if someone is treating you poorly, he’s stepping in and quietly, but effectively, shutting it down.

He borders on overprotecting you sometimes, though. Like how he doesn’t like anyone talking about dieting of things like that around you, because he’s aware of how toxic these cultures can be and how easily they can get under your skin, so he doesn’t want to even give them the chance. Doesn’t matter how many times you tell him you’re okay, he still worries and watches out for you everywhere you go.

He loves how casually intimate the two of you are. He’s always touching and caressing your hips or waist or arms, and is soo happy if you’re the same with him. Similar to Jin, there’s nothing even sexual about his touches(most of the time) he just loves feeling you close, each little touch is like a silent message between the two of you like “I see you, I love you”

Taehyung:

I totally see Tae dating a muscle mommy, bc he is baby. Like if you can carry him? Ooooh he’s gonna koala you soo fucking hard, lol. Loves being wrapped up in your arms more than almost anything else in the world.

He doesn’t really pay too much mind to your size honestly? At least on a surface level. He falls in love with your energy and personality first and then your body. Which yeah sounds cliche and a little frustrating honestly, but that’s just how he works. It might take him a while to realize that comparing you to statues and paintings from the renaissance doesn’t quite answer your question of if he finds you hot, but he catches on eventually.

He’s kinda obsessed with you tho honestly, he’s always touching and cuddling you, nuzzling into your chest or tummy, and leaving little kisses on any bare skin he happens across.

Gives extra love to the places he notices you’re more self-conscious about, tracing over your stretch marks or caressing your rolls with an almost reverent tenderness. 

Being with him is just so domestic tho? Like he is just this big ol' teddy bear(especially now that he’s bulked up from the military). He brings you flowers all the time, takes you out for brunch dates every weekend, buys y’all matching pajamas, etc

Loves how you take care of him, whether it’s making him dinner or just holding him when he’s feeling down. He feels soo safe and protected in your arms.

He really loves it though when you’re open and vulnerable with him. Being plus size, you tend to develop a thick skin to protect yourself because people, and society at large, can be ridiculously cruel. And so it’s a little harder to let people in sometimes. But with Tae, he wants nothing more than to be your soft safe place where you don’t have to pretend. It doesn’t matter what’s bothering you, he’s always ready and waiting with a hug no matter what, and it makes his heart swell with so much pride and love when you let be there for you. 

So soft and encouraging. He’s always doing cute little gestures to cheer you up, like the ‘when life gives tangerines’ pose thing. Anything he can do to get a smile out of you is worth it.

Jungkook:

I honestly think he would be in denial that he likes you at first? Not because of your size, he’s like this with everyone he likes. Like he flirts with you constantly, teases you, even engages a lot of casual skinship, but he always holds off on calling it anything more than friendship. He’s just afraid of commiting and then fucking things up, so he thinks it’s better to stay as just friends, until you finally corner him and get him to fess up.

I feel like he thinks he’s above having any sort of toxic perceptions of bigger bodies, until you call him out one day for some offhand joke or comment that he made. He may not have meant anything by it, just trying to tease you like he does his other friends, but once you explain how those comments come across and how they’ve been weaponized, he’s horrified and begging forgiveness. 

But once you get through those early rough patches, you have the biggest dork and hype man on your hands.

Quietly squeals and does lil happy hands every now and then because he randomly remembers like “omg, I'm dating this person!!”

Quietly supports everything you do. Like, he’ll hide outside the door when he hears you singing, having his own mini hype party for you, bc he knows if he comes in, you’ll get shy and stop.

He dotes on you all the time and is soo fucking touchy. He loves just laying on you, squishing your face in his hands and kissing you whenever you start to complain. He can’t help it, you’re just so soft and warm, he’s practically addicted to touching you.

He would work really hard to better educate himself about that actual science and facts about plus size bodies, and to try and be more in tune with your needs and any subjects that are particularly sensitive for you. 

But also, everybody know that boy is soo fucking strong. Like he we’ve seen how much time he spends training and building up his body, he would love being able to show off to you by picking you up and manhandling you just a little bit(or a lotta bit, hehe)

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @seleneacyoflove @k4ngelz @universal-travel-er

[vibrantdream]

Is it worth it?

That was the question I found myself wrestling with. After all, I had things pretty good as they were. I had a stable income working in my parents' armory shop. I was also not particularly short on offers. Nobility, I am not, but I was still a decent prospect for marriage. My life was both stable and comfortable which made the fact that I was even considering chasing after this lead absolute madness.

Common sense said to settle. Find a suitable partner in town, have children, teach them armorsmithing when they were old enough. Magic could be finnicky anyway, and I'm no mage. I barely have the ability to cast the cheapest and simplest of spells, like a dating spell. I could have cast it wrong. Or perhaps the spell itself was flawed. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time a dating spell proved unfruitful.

A near-certain suicide mission wasn't worth a maybe.

And yet my mind burned. Not only with that name, that honey-sweet name that rolled off my tongue like water over rocks, but with a bright curiosity. I had cast the dating spell almost four months prior. Doubtless, my match had been adventuring then, far too busy to worry about love. So why now? Why cast the spell while trapped in the deepest, deadliest dungeon in history? Who would embark on such a hopeless rescue mission, if that had, in fact, been my match's intent? What good could knowing my name and location possibly do in such bleak circumstances?

I wanted to know. I wanted to know that answer more than almost anything.

I found myself pulling my personal armor out of storage: I had only worn it twice and it was slightly misshapen, having been the first full set I ever made, but that was nothing I couldn't fix now. I fired up the forge, hammering away until it matched the quality of my current work. I spent the next few days inscribing protective spells and sigils on the bracers, and inside the breastplate, referencing our books on magical armor. My father shook his head fondly whenever he found me toiling over it, offering advice here and there, but never berating me. I hadn't told him, but he suspected something.

Neither of my parents were surprised when I told them I was leaving, sword at my waist, armor shining and polished. My mother hugged me and kissed my cheek, handing me a bag full of supplies and provisions.

"Come home safe." She said. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I might not come home at all.

"I will let you go," My father said, "on one condition. You leave that sword here."

"Father, I'm going to need a weapon. I'm going somewhere dangerous," I said.

"I rather suspected you would," He said, "Which is why I think this will serve you better." He turned to a chest and brought out a long bundle wrapped in cloth, which he offered to me.

My heart stuttered. "My great-grandmother's sword?"

My father nodded. "It saw her through entire wars. I think it shall meet your needs nicely."

I slowly reached out and grabbed the hilt as my father unwrapped the cloth. The blade shone brighter than my armor due to the diligent care my father put into maintaining it. My hands weren't shaking, but only because I was terrified of dropping it.

My father removed my sword belt and strapped on a new belt with my great-grandmother's scabbard before he stood back and looked at me. "That's more like it. You be careful out there, now. And you should know you're gonna need a little help along the way: you're not used to adventuring. There's a list in the bag of people and organizations who might be of help. People will recognize that sword and scabbard before you speak a word so take very good care of them."

"I will." I said hastily. "I promise I will. Just like you taught me."

My father nodded and gave me one last hug before I sheathed my new sword and set off to find--and potentially save--my one true love.

It was madness, but I'd do it or die trying.

A new dating spell is trending in the magic world—cast it, and if your perfect match also does, you’ll instantly know who and where they are. Simple. Yours just activated. Their name burns in your mind… and their location? Deep beneath the earth, at the bottom of a dungeon no one returns from.

[sapphicautumn]

Afterthought. EW.

synopsis: Ellie and you go on your regular scheduled patrol, but when danger is found, it leaves you both in shambles - realising you could lose each other at any time.

Pairing: Bestfriend!ellie x Fem reader. WLW

Contents: fluff, friends2lovers? Smut. Emotional constipation. Swearing, and whatever else lmk if I forgor 💀

A/N: hey! This is actually my first ever time writing on tumblr, I’m usually a silent reader of the tags, so this is a bit nerve wracking for me lol. There’s not a lot of Bella Ramsey Ellie fics on here- so I hope you like it. I am writing on my phone as I’m currently on the train ride home- ignore any typos, that’s on my tired ass. If you enjoy, please reblog and thank you for reading 🥨

Men and minors DNI

“You don’t need to collect every flower you see, you know that? Right?”

Ellie’s voice teased, guiding shimmer as she rode the brown horse around you, eyes gazing down as she tried to bite a smile back.

“Let me be” your voice hummed, picking up dandelions from the ground. You kept a book back at home in Jackson with stamped flowers you find on patrol. It always provided some form of comfort? That although there’s so much evil in this current situation of the world, beauty still grows.

Ellie didn’t get it. She didn’t get a lot of things, but that’s why you love her.

“Cmonnn get back on the damn horse, patrol will last forever the longer you drag it out” Her voice rang, pulling the lead of the horse to a halt. She always spoke in what others would call a sarcastic tone, but it was what you knew her to always sound like. It’s just Ellie, she’s not intimidating to you. Quite the contrary.

You both met 3 years ago now, when you had joined Jackson with just your mom in search of a safe haven. Being close in age, you found yourself hanging with Dina first, who eventually introduced you to her own group of friends; Jesse & Ellie.

You all would hang out every night basically, spending time at each others houses, or at the tipsy bison, or even sometimes hiding behind jesses house while he attempted to roll joints that never quite came out the way you guys wanted.

“You should be kicked out of the town for that” dina would say, gesturing to the pathetic roll that laid in front of her.

Somewhere along the way, Jesse and Dina found themselves getting closer. Them starting to date wasn’t a shock to Ellie and you. It was obvious how much they liked each other. Previous group activities turned into paired plans of just you and her, it provided you to grow quite close.

She was always gruff and protective of her own self. The walls she built were tall and made of thick brick. Although not thick enough apparently, as your soft exterior was able to chisel in, seeing a side of Ellie most of the town doesn’t take time to know.

If anyone were to ask, you’d say Ellie is your best friend, your patrol buddy, Curtis to your viper. The list goes on.

Ellie on the other hand, …..feels like a perverted creep, as there’s a side you could have never guessed possessed the girls mind….and journal.

“She’s too sweet…I don’t even think she’s into girls and I’m being so weird!!!!! I probably scare her omg, don’t realise I look at her too long until she says sumthing…She didn’t want to hang out tonight. I think her being “sick” was an excuse”

Her hand would cramp as she pressed the pencil harder to the paper, writing at her desk in the comfort of Joel’s garage.

“We were at the bar just yesterday. I walked behind her to get to my seat. Her hair smelled like vanilla. How does she do that?? Jesse and her talked about some stupid show idk the name. He looked at her like he wanted her. He has dina. I’m in no position to be jealous but LITERALLY fuck off j-“

Ellie’s eyes widened, the tip of her pencil snapping with the force of which she wrote. It’s time for bed anyways.

She never planned on telling you, in fact, she got used to the idea of dying a single lady, if it meant you also died one. Think among the lines of “if I can’t have you, no one will”. Yeah. That’s what she’s got going on.

So she bit her tongue anytime she saw you dress up cute for events, trying to be nonchalant whenever you’d bake her and Joel banana bread, or when she’d get home after a night at the bar, trying to smack out the imaginary of what you’d look like on her bed from within her brain. What the fuck is wrong with you? And why’re you so ….you? She almost wish you weren’t in Jackson so she wouldn’t have to worry about having a crush that felt so juvenile it made her itch to the core.

Lips. Are. Sealed.

The two of you rode shimmer down the designated path, the grass worn down from how many people have came down this exact way within the past few weeks.

“I think we should check out the abandoned house over there” your hand would gesture across before resuming to holding Ellie’s waist.

“I mean…we really don’t need to, you insist on all these side quests and-”

“Ellie I know damn well you got nothing better to do once we get back except for sleep. I wanna go check. Maybe there’s something cool in there?” You interrupt.

With a scoff, she parks the horse across the way, hopping off and absent mindlessly reaching up to help you slide off, her fingers gently holding your hand and hip. “There we go..”

You smile gently, adjusting your coat and clearing your voice. “Well. Let’s go”, your boots guide you to the old, broken down wooded house, the appearance of it so ghastly that it’s leaving Ellie wondering if it’ll collapse on you both.

“What do you think is in there?” She began, a little hint of snark in her tone as she protectively followed right behind you, hands wanting to keep you next to her, but she digressed to them on her holster.

“I dunno” you shrug, eyes looking back at the girl. “Some porn?”

“You’re a fucking idiot. I think Eugene’s old stash is plenty, that fucker had like 40 tapes in that cabinet and-”

“Wait shut the fuck up” you wave your hand at her, listening to some distant sound upstairs. You smirk.

“This is a bad idea” she whispers, “maybe we should just head back? Don’t go upstairs”

“Oh I’m going upstairs”

Your Ellie’s biggest migraine with legs. Of course- she follows you. The stairs creak, making her eyes scrunch with cringe, thinking about the possibility of a clicker being upstairs, hearing every footstep you both made. She tapped her flash light, illuminating the area as they reached the top.

You pulled out your pistol, holding it cautiously. Despite your soft exterior, you lived for this shit. Ellie would think you were the immune one with the fearlessness you displayed on patrols.

You scanned all the rooms, finding to be disappointed. “Ellie?”

She left the bathroom, the cabinet was raided, there’s nothing even here worth the trip. “This place is empty”

You huff, looking around. “But i heard something, I swear. It sounded like footsteps”

Once Ellie walked into, what you both assumed used to be a bedroom, she met back up with you. “Maybe it was wind? The windows broken, and the wood is old”

With a sigh, you examine the space, lowering the gun. Your eyes dart to the beside table, opening it. There’s some old photographs inside. “Els, cmere”

She knelt on the creaky floor, her flashlight shining on the Polaroids you pulled out. Ellie couldn’t help but smile at them, as such few photos showcased a story to the house they sat in.

“A family lived here” you whispered, seeing a man and woman, smiling as they bundled together for the picture. A few shuffles and you come across another of a newborn baby laying on the same fabric of the bed your back presses against. “Aw…”

Ellie’s lips curled, “I wonder what happened to them” she whispered

“Me too….” You flipped the back to see the date. 2012. These people could be in Jackson? Or somewhere far away…or maybe you’ve already encountered their infected forms on prior patrols. It always is a sickening reminder that the brainless threats you kill daily used to be people with stories. Someone’s baby.

Ellie noticed the tone change, her hand brushing out to comfort you. “I’m sure they are ok, don’t dwell on it.” Her tatted arm rubbed your back, making you shiver a bit.

“Maybe.”

She took the photos and put them back in the drawer, shutting it. “Let’s just go, Tommy is gonna be mad we took another detour.” As she stood, she exhaled, “damn, my knees”

Your eyes glanced as she walked out, snickering quietly at how much of an old man this 19 year old was. “I told you to stop sitting on your legs, it is a bad habit”

With a roll of eyes, ellie waves you off, the two of you making the way back down the stairs you came up earlier. “Sorry you didn’t get your porn. If it helps I’m sure Jesse has something he’d be willing to give up”

You smile knowingly, “you always act like I hang out with him. He’s with Dina, dumbass”

“You two aren’t close? You seem it” she mumbled, almost annoyingly. Her pistol sliding back into the leg holster.

You watched her back, thinking. “You think I like him or something?”

“Did I say that?” Her hands held up in defence.

“I feel like your kinda hinting at that, els. I wouldn’t do that to Dina. Besides, Jesse is farrrrr from…my type”

She raised a brow, mumbling “your type?” Her body turned to face you, but there you were already wandering into another part of the room. Your like a dog that needs to be guided where to go on it’s walk. “Can you just come back here, damnit”

“Look!” you held up the yarn, smiling. You had a little hobby of knitting blankets…hats…scarfs. You’d even make stuff for the damn horses at the stables. Finding yarn was equivalent to ellie finding weed. Very exciting.

Ellie sighed, “ok great, that’s great, good. Now let’s-”

“There’s some more over here” your feet led you behind the wall, into the shared room. You opened up the storage closet, coming face to face with something you’ve never seen before. Before you could pull your gun back out, the infected pushes you across the room to the floor, jumping on you. Your arms tried to push and shield, “ELLIE!!!”

The girl jumped at the noise, running around the corner to see what she thought was a clicker on top of you. “What the fuck!!!!??” She panted, quickly fumbling to grab anything, her knife is what she reached first.

Your screams intensified as the creature leaned down, your faces were close, you couldn’t identify the thing, you were too fucking focused on NOT getting bit.

Within seconds, Ellie’s knife is brought around to the throat, slicing it and tossing the lifeless body to the side, the room quiet except for your pants, your brush with possible death leaving you in a state of shock.

You’ve patrolled a lot, and never been this close.

Almost too nervous to ask, ellie kneeled and spoke, shakily, “fuck….you bit? You ok??” Her heartbeat was in her ears. This is why she wanted to leave, not even be here in the first place.

“Y-yea-yeah. I- sorry, I j-”

“Shh I got you” she folded the knife, frowning as her hands helped scoop you up to your feet. Legs almost buckling.

“I don’t know what that is” you whisper, looking down at the bleeding out infected now on the wood floor.

“Me neither,…I’ve never seen that.”

“It was like..h-hiding, infected d-dont hide”

She simply nods, too focused on your state of being. “Cmon…”

The two of you are led out back to the fresh air. Shimmer eating some of the grass before Ellie beckons the horse over. With the natural lighting she identifies how pale your face was, heart breaking, feeling like she didn’t protect you enough. Her eyes scan over again, reassuring herself you didn’t get bit or scratched.

Her arms helped hoist you upon the saddle of the animal, before scooping herself up in front of you. “Just hold on to me, I’m heading back”

The ride was quiet for the most part, your hands trembling as they secured yourself around Ellie’s hips.

“How we doing?” She mumbled, making it over the hill. Jackson’s walls were within eyes reach.

“I don’t feel good”

Ellie bit the inside of her cheek, focusing on the horses lead. “Yeah that was….that was scary huh?” She whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m glad you’re ok, physically”

Your head leaned against the back of your friends denim green jacket, still feeling a bit spooked. You lived a sheltered lifestyle within the town, mostly working in the stables. Patrol wasn’t weekly for you, ellie brought you along sometimes because of her own selfish reasons, to be close with you.

Now that stupid crush of hers almost got you killed. She almost lost you, the realisation hitting her as she checked inside the gates, helping you off the horse.

“Your back early, did you log the sheets?” Maria spoke, coming over.

“I- we had an incident” ellie spoke, helping adjust your belongings on your body without turning to see the woman. “We’re fine, but there’s definitely some…weird shit going on near the lake up north. Maybe send a group out tomorrow”

Maria was confused by the ominous wording, before even getting to question further, ellie was leading you away. The older woman sighed and looked at her husband, Tommy, handing him the lead of the horse so he could put shimmer in her pen and feed her.

Unlocking the door, she gently helped you inside her garage turned mini apartment a la ellie. Joel let her have her own space, it wasn’t huge, it wasn’t great, but it was Ellie’s, and it was comforting. You both have spent a lot of time in here before now, but for some reason as your boots guide you inside, it feels smaller.

The poor girl is more frightened than you are, patting out the bed, frantic about you. “Here, lay down. Do you want something to eat? Uh, fuck maybe I have some crackers and jam, let me check”

Gaining the courage to speak, you raise your hand, body laid on the bed. “Ellie, I’m fine. Just give me a second.”

She swallows a little hard, nodding. “Sorry.”

You slide the black boots off, tossing them to the floor as your knees are guided to your chest, thinking about what could’ve happened if you did get bit.

Ellie sits in her desk chair, watching you carefully. Eyes grazing along your fragile figure, selfishly so.

“Would you have shot me?”

She blinks “what?”

Taking a moment to look over at her, the garage dimly lit. “If I got bit, and turned into one of those ….things…” your voice shakes a little, “would you have shot me?”

Ellie’s a bit taken back, she takes her coat off and puts it on the hanger nearby, her hands rubbing her thighs in thought. “I…I dunno….I probably couldn’t…i-if im being honest”

“I don’t talk about it much, but it worries me, that one day I won’t be able to escape them” you admit, knees hugged gently as you rest your head against them. “If you weren’t there-….”

She walked over cautiously and sat in front of you, the cushion of the bed sinking with her weight. “But I was…yeah?”

The emotions come out, you felt dramatic. It’s easy to forgot how dangerous shit gets when you stay in your room and collect flowers. “Yea….thank you. For uh..saving me” a stupid stray tear falls down your cheek. You wipe it quickly, knowing you’ve never cried in front of Ellie before. She smiles softly, trying to reassure the pretty girl sitting in front of her.

“I’d never let you get hurt…I’ll always protect you”

You flutter your eyes shut. Something inside you stirring.

“Unfortunately you’re stuck with me” ellie added on, her finger reaching out to rub the side of her wrist, experimentally.

A quiet laugh escaped your mouth, watery eyes opening once more to meet Ellie’s gaze. “That’s not a bad thing…I mean, I quite literally can’t exist out there on my own. It’s kinda pathetic” you sniffled, looking down at Ellie’s comforter. The plaid sheets giving your eyes something to look at rather than her.

“Hey…it’s not pathetic. It’s not ..it’s not fair we have to live this way. Some people aren’t used to it, doesn’t make you weak for not being prepared”

The silky wave of her voice made something in your heart flutter, something about Ellie being gentle with you made you become absolute putty. It was rare she didn’t showcase her tough exterior. I suppose it’s safe to say the close call shot some fear into the both of you.

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

You watched her again, swallowing. “I’ll be more careful”

With a soft nod, she links her pinky with yours, her gaze down at the interlocked fingers. A soft smile appearing across her face. Truth? She’s scared shitless right now. Vulnerable is not her thing, but it feels fitting with you. Why? She’s fucked.

Sometimes it’s known that heightened emotions of fear can make people think about deeper evaluations of their life. The room was filled with thoughts, racing hearts and hormones.

Your eyes met your joint pinky finger, you brought up your hands slowly, pressing your lips to them.

Ellie watched. Carefully.

You made sure to look at her as you turned her hand, opening it as your lips pressed against the home of her palm. Ellie almost nutted.

“Ellie, I just-”

Before your whispers could become a finished sentence, ellie sprung forward and captured your bottom lip within hers, suckling gently, her calloused and roughed up hands cupping the soft contrast of your rose coloured cheeks.

Your hands immediately shot up to hold each of her wrists, pulling your head back softly with a pant. Your eyes met. There wasn’t awkwardness, and in fact, you didn’t question why your best friend kissed you. There was an unspoken understanding. An unspoken need, you could say. Ellie’s gentle pants met yours, pressing her forehead against you.

Her body heat gave off a wave of arousal within you, one you never knew even existed. Your hands gently lifted her chin, nodding as you watched her eyes….her nose…her lips.

You kissed again, and it was different than the first one. Hungry mouths clashed against one another as you both fought for control. Needing to be closer to each other…to feel you. To feel her.

She ever so gently shoved you back against her pillows. Oh how many times she’s felt dirty, imagining how you’d lay here with her hands rubbing over you, making you feel good. Her own prideful narcissism picturing how she would make you cum, assuming you’d become obsessed and drunken by her touch, and her touch alone.

The imagery compared to what’s real now, is nothing. It’s better, way better. Your hair was so fucking beautiful and sprawled against her pillow, chest rising with uneven breaths as Ellie moved, pressing her knee between your jean covered core. The way your eyelashes fluttered up at her with desire, mouth slightly ajar.

How would she ever move on from that?

Her chapped lips met your soft ones once more, hand gently rubbing along your jaw and neck as she moved to kiss below your ear. With quiet but desperate pants, your hand holding her nape. “Ellie…yes” your voice was airy and sweet, fuck, the sound alone could make Ellie willingly kneel and provide for you. She’d become a housewife and shit, if it meant she’d be able to hear the softness of the moans leaving your fucking lips every day.

She attacked your neck, a mix of kissing, licking and gentle bites. Her knee rutted into you, all you could do is allow it; hands gripping Ellie’s tshirt, as if she’d melt into you. It was hardly recognisable, the movements your body followed, chasing after Ellie’s graze, head tilting back into the pillow, eyebrows raised and eyes shut. “I need you to touch me”

She sat back, you could almost see some of the nervousness return to her gaze for a slight moment before she shook, nodding. “What do you want I’ll do anything ….” She sounds so fucking needy, you could basically feel your underwear sticking to you at this point. “Cmon baby tell me and I’ll do it”

The whispers kissed your ear, you frantically found words, spitting them out in what you thought sounded pathetic. “I- want you to-” you sat up, pausing as you unbuttoned your jeans, overwhelmed.

“Yeah?” She asked, wanting to make sure you wanted her touch. You frantically nodded, taking her hand and guiding it to your jean waistline. She exhales a shakily laugh, almost not believing the power she has right now. She sat up, fingers tugging the fabric down your hips.

The jeans were thrown off the side of the bed, mixing with Ellie’s laundry scattered across the floor. You were the one to take your underwear off, adding it to the pile.

Ellie almost had an aneurism. You were soaked, dripping down the inner part of your thigh- part of her mind wanted to take a mental image and begin drawing it into her horny journal to save it for later. Another part of her wanted to believe she’s the first to be lucky enough to taste it.

“Oh…fuck…” tough fingers ran their way from your hips …to your thighs, parting them more. She had so many things she wanted to say, to make you feel important and loved.

She would tell you later. Her lips met your pussy.

Arching your chest up on the bed, you couldn’t even bare to look down at the girl between your legs, you’re best friend. The moan you let out was of pleasure, but more importantly one of relief. “Aaah…Mmph” hips squirmed around, bucking your folds further against Ellie’s tongue.

To be fair, she’s never eaten a girl out before, but she’s too prideful to admit she learned how from those damn porn tapes Eugene hoarded. She would tell herself she’d probably do it better than a guy, after all, she had the same parts. She knows what feels good.

And yeah, she’s right to think that, with the way you desperately cling to the sheet below you, eyes stuck up on her ceiling. Tiny glow in the dark star stickers are up there, capturing your gaze.

Ellie worked you, moaning against your core, moving her head side to side to try something she saw before, hoping it felt as amazing as it looked. Your arousal tasted sweet, blessing her tongue like dessert and her nose like incense.

She even closed her eyes, focusing on making you cum, the goal to taste it right here on her bed making her dizzy. She rutted her own hips against the mattress, selfishly getting off on your reaction.

“Ellie…els…baby” your whimpers were shy, gathering strength to prop the pillow, sitting up and looking down. You clenched at the sight, she was so into it, sucking your soul out as if she’d never have the opportunity again after this night ended.

You lazily tilted your head to your shoulder, furrowed eyebrows and mouth open, you reached your hands out to ever so lightly brush the brown hair out of Ellie’s face. “That’s good, right…right there ok?”

Praise only made her tongue work harder, despite the tired muscle aching. She made the mistake of gazing up at you, capturing how fucked out you looked. “Mmmph” the vibration of Ellie’s moan against your pussy made you jolt, legs threatening to close against either side of her head. “No…keep them open” her face backed up from your core- chin glistening with your wetness.

Ellie doubled down, using her elbow to keep your thighs apart and out of her way, her focused expression directly on her two fingers, gathering slick as they enter your needy entrance.

“Ahhfuckohmygod” your hand clings to her shoulder as Ellie begins to finger you. She reached upward, knowing what felt good on her as she confidently aimed for a ridged patch amongst your warm walls.

You clenched tightly as she found it. A burning in your lower stomach as you’ve never felt before. “Shit-”

“Mmm…’s that it? Found it didn’t i?” She cockily mumbled, more so to herself. Her own pants becoming uncomfortable, she was so wet.

You bucked up, meeting her fingers thrusts each time. Ellie went deeper, you could see the beads of sweat developing on her hairline. She was determined to make you cum harder than you thought you could.

“Stop closing them baby…” she spit, frustrated as she tried to pay attention to the way your hole sucked her fingers in so needily. You’ve been needing this for a while. Poor thing.

“I’m gonna cum” you whisper, tears filling up the bottom of your vision, making her appearance blurry. You blissfully shut them, mouth agape as endless, nonsensical, words and please fled out.

If you were to look at yourself right now without the horny facade blocking your thinking, you’d probably be ashamed.

But right now? You’re loving it.

Ellie’s strong tattooed arm leans up and pressed on your lower stomach, adding pressure to the spot she reached inside. By the sound of your choked out gasp, she was unsure if she was hurting you. “Oh” she panicked and began to move away, your grasp grabbed her and kept her in place. “No, no no no keep going I’m gonna cum”

Oh. Oh.

With the reassurance, the brunette continues her ministrations, moving to kitty lick against your clit, the feeling of her all fucking over and in you was overwhelming. You cried, not out of sadness, out of desperation.

You gripped her for dear life, hands leaning a bright white mark against the skin of her forearm. “Ohhh I’m cumming”

You lifted your hips a bit, ellie pushed them down as she finished the job, feeling the warmth and movement of your body finishing. It was beautiful, she did that, and she was gonna be cocky about this until the day she died.

“Yesyesyes…yes….”

Ellie smirked against you at the needy tone of your voice, she felt you pulsate and tighten, her wrist soaked…the bed beneath you no longer sanitary to sleep on. She looked up again to see your overwhelmed and exhausted face, she panted, removing her fingers as she pressed her forehead against your thigh, holding onto you as she came.

She came from WATCHING YOU cum. Ellie Williams, everybody.

You would’ve poked fun if you didn’t find it so hot. She rode her hips out against the bed, softly whispering something you couldn’t make out.

Letting the moment sit for a while, your hand gently rubbed her arm, beckoning her to come up to you, she obliged and carefully sat over you, rubbing the skin under your white shirt. “Are you ok…?” There’s your ellie.

With a nod, “I’m ok…I’m good. Are you?” You raised a brow, fingers brushing under her eyes and over her cheek. Ellie nodded, smiling shyly. How dare she be shy right now. “Yeah…”

She cutely nuzzles her nose against yours, fluttering her eyes shut. She peppered gentle soft kisses along your face. Who knew she was a sap after sex….

There’s still some shock within the atmosphere of the poorly lit garage. The air smelling of sweat and sex. This will need to be talked about, but there’s an absent agreement to just be present tonight. Ellie stands up, shakily guiding her legs over to the bathroom as you laid, trying to understand what just happened.

After a moment, you hear the water run. She comes out with a wet cloth, sitting beside you with hesitant eyes. She gestures the cloth up lazily and mumbles, eyes going to your pussy. “Gonna wash…”

The coldness almost makes you hiss, but you welcome the soft and delicate act of her cleaning up. “Thanks…”. The cloth is tossed to the basket, before she climbs next to you, putting a clean blanket over your lower body. Her doe eyes scan over your face, your features as you mimic the action.

“I mean..you’re staying right?” Ellie’s tone is an airy…blissfully dreamy whisper.

You bite your bottom lip, fingers tracing the girls jawline. “I can’t really walk right now to be honest. I think it was your plan to keep me here.” The joke makes Ellie’s eyes crinkle with laughter, her palm rubbing the curve of your hip.

“Alright…I’ll get you some clothes…we can get comfy and sleep…” her voice is hushed against your neck.

Your fingers ran over the back of Ellie’s shirt, eyelashes fluttering your vision as the calmness of the moment overtook you. Suddenly the biggest issue was no longer almost dying earlier, it was falling in love with your best friend.

You both were hopeless, and maybe it wasn’t the worst thing to happen.

<3

[sinsxo]

drowning. —itoshi sae

synopsis. a love so unreal that it feels too good to be true. a love so deep that you would willingly drown in.

cw. drabble, boyfriend!sae x fem!reader, fluff, emotional vulnerability, intense romantic attachment, fear of abandonment, mentions of anxiety/self-doubt, heavy emotional themes disguised in soft moments

note. i wrote this fic inspired by one of my favourite songs: 沉溺 - 邹沛沛 ft. Pank! i hope you guys enjoy this read <3

wc. 463 words, proofread.

waking up almost every day in the arms of itoshi sae was something you wouldn’t have even imagined a year ago. the warmth and comfort that radiated from him was almost unreal, something most people could only dream of. it was a warmth enough to melt into you, wrapping you in a feeling of comfort so safe, it almost scared you.

and why almost every day? because you both had days where he had to leave earlier for a flight for an overseas tournament, or days where you slept in on weekends when you didn’t have work while he left for training. and during those days, you would wake up to the comforting scent of his morning coffee that lingered around your shared apartment — a quiet reminder that even in his absence, he was still part of your mornings.

but you didn’t think about those days right now. today wasn’t one of them.

today, you woke to his arms around your waist, your face pressed against his chest. and when your eyes fluttered open, his raspy morning voice greeted you with a soft “good morning.” that woke up the butterflies in your stomach, making them flutter uncontrollably.

it wasn’t just the way he held you, or the comfort he carried — it was the love. overwhelming, quiet, endless. almost too much. almost too good to be true.

because sae was a man of very few words, he didn’t say much — he never had to. every action, every detail he noticed, said what words never could.

it was the fancy dinners he would take you out to after a long day of work, the souvenirs and designer items that he brought back for you after an overseas tournament without you asking, the way he had to always be in your presence, and the way he showered you with hugs and kisses at the end of every day.

it was also the beach — the place he’d take you without a word when he sensed your sadness, knowing it was your favourite place on earth, second only to him who was your home. you remember the way your feet sank into the sand, holding each other’s hands with smiles on your faces — one that only appeared when you both were in each other’s presence — one that screamed the look of love.

it was this — the quiet mornings, the late dinners, the small, ordinary things — that has become everything. and sometimes, you wonder if it’s too much.

too perfect, too fleeting, too fragile.

because when someone like itoshi sae loves, he does it with a kind of quiet intensity that swallows you whole.

and you’re drowning in it. willingly, helplessly, terrified of what it would mean if it ever ended.

© all written works are created and owned by @sinsxo. do not plagiarise, modify, repost or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances.

all images, aside from the dividers, do not belong to me. credit belongs to their original creators on pinterest & xhs.

[fromchaostocosmos]

People are not perfect.

As in people make mistakes.

As in people are still learning.

As in people can sometimes be doing their best and trying their best and yes there is room for improvement and we can recognize both things.

As in people don't speak the same language.

As in people are learning something for the first time.

As in people have disabilities of all kinds which yes can impact in this too.

For example growing up I didn't really know anything cis or trans and sex vs gender. I knew that straight and gay. When I was teenager I eventually learned about bisexuality and something called transgender.

But again didn't really know all that much. But I did my best as best I could.

There was a point when I thought I was I being accepting and I was still new and learning and it was at a time that I still thought I wanted children. So I would say "oh I have nothing against anyone who is transgender and I think they should use whatever bathroom is most comfortable to them, but I wouldn't marry anyone is transgender because I want to have children who biologically mine"

At the time I was still learning and I didn't understand how that was still not just unhelpful, but rather actively unhelpful and in many ways a cruel thing to say.

Thankfully I was able to learn. Some people were kind enough to help me and direct me where I could learn and I was also able to read about people's first hand experiences and that was helpful.

Others were not as kind and in my truly meaningful attempts to learn and understand where in what I thought was I going wrong and how I could I do better and where could I learn more I was greeted with great cruelty and mockery which was hard at that point in my life.

That isn't to say I don't understand why those people did what they did. I get it sometimes that can defense mechanism.

I do like to think or hope that I sounded earnest and sincere in questions, but you never know how tone can come across sometimes.

I will always be thankful to the many people who helped knowingly and unknowingly in my education, an education and learning process that is never over.

We have to understand that not everyone is going to have the same experiences and education. What counts is the intent rather the how well it is communicated I think.

Because sometimes people are trying their best in with what they have.

Again for example I was asked by someone IRL "why the did Hitler hate the Jews?" now most of the time a question like that I would be offended by IRL because that is really stupid question to ask.

But in this case I was not because I knew this person was not asking to be hateful or in that ha ha type of way. Rather they were being sincere. They were an immigrant to the USA and came from a country that has no Jewish people in it and no Holocaust education.

So from them this was question out of sincerity and a desire to understand. They didn't know how to ask it in a different way, better way, or a way that was less offensive.

This was them doing the best with what they had. And I understood that and could work with that.

We have to have room for nuance and understanding and at time even compassion.

This is not me saying take trolls at face value or use up your energy on those who have come clearly in bad faith. No, those don't deserve any time or energy.

It is for all the people who are trying that if you have the energy, ability, and time we should be because that is where the differences are made.

So help if help is needed, answer questions if that is what is asked, provided resources if you can, and listen to experiences and stories even when it might told not in the most perfect of ways or with the most up to date terminology.

Because again people are not perfect, people are trying their best, and there is always room for improvement. And all of these things can be true at the same time.

I was discussing the incident mentioned later in this piece with my wife yesterday and I saw another post by someone earlier doing something mentioned in here and I'm finally going to say something about it.

There is a serious problem in leftist spaces, especially online, especially on Tumblr, when it comes to language.

The way people are expected to speak just to even enter these spaces is incredibly complex, to the point of being outright hostile to those who haven’t already spent time in them. And it’s not just newcomers; people who have important things to say, people speaking from lived experiences, people who don’t have English as a first language but still deserve to be heard, are constantly talked down to or even pushed out entirely for not using the "right" words.

This gets even worse when you factor in how often new terms are coined in English, and then people are shamed for not immediately knowing or using them.

I saw someone reblog their own post saying something like, "I know for a fact more than half of y’all didn’t understand a fucking word I said here."

And honestly? That stuck with me, because yeah, I’ve felt that before. Not because I don’t value critical thinking! because I absolutely do! I just made a post on that too! but because so many of these posts are written in a way that makes them Functionally Inaccessible to anyone who doesn’t already have the right background knowledge. And at a certain point, if you actually want your words to have an impact, if you actually want to create meaningful change, then you’re going to have to accept some things:

People will not always use perfect language.

2. People will not always know the exact terminology you personally prefer they use when engaging in discourse.

3. Dismissing or attacking people for how they say something, instead of engaging with what they’re saying, is actively harmful.

And more than that, if you genuinely want people to understand and engage with the things you’re talking about, especially people who don’t speak English as a first language, especially people without access to higher education, especially people who don’t even know where to begin when it comes to self-education (because yes, that is a skill that has to be taught) then you are going to have to be the one to adjust sometimes. You are going to have to let people say things imperfectly. You are going to have to take a step back and engage with the message rather than just the words being used to express it.

One of the experiences that made me realize that I, as a non-native English speaker, was not welcome in Tumblr leftist spaces was when I spoke about real-life oppression I had experienced. I left one word out of my post, a word which honestly, was not even important when talking about an incident that had Happened To Me, not theory, not hypotheticals or any what-ifs of oppression, a story, a story about something that happened to me.

And because of that, people sat in a Discord server, picking apart my words, accusing me of awful things, and then came into my askbox throwing jargon and buzzwords I’d never even heard before, then got mad at me for being frustrated that this was happening.

Think about that. People who are directly impacted by oppression are being pushed out of spaces meant to discuss it because the way they speak doesn’t conform to certain expectations. That is not justice. That is not solidarity. That is not progress.

There is a fundamental disconnect here between theory and praxis. Ironically so many of you do not know what praxis is, because most of you engage with a lot of theory, and not a lot of praxis, you use the word praxis a lot, but, ironically, you have no idea what it means.

{to put my money where my mouth is, it means Doing Something, in the simplest possible terms}

In theory, leftist spaces should be accessible. They should be places where people can speak openly about their experiences, learn from each other, and work toward meaningful change. But in practice? There’s a gatekeeping of language so intense that many people, particularly those who are marginalized in ways beyond just their political beliefs, are outright excluded.

And this is something I need people to sit with: The assumption that the "right" language is easy to learn, or that anyone who doesn’t use it is being willfully ignorant, is an inherently privileged stance. Knowing where to find information, how to process it, and how to integrate new terminology into your vocabulary is a skill that is largely tied to education. Having the time to engage with leftist literature and theory, to stay up-to-date on every new term that gets introduced, is also a privilege. And the fact that so many people refuse to acknowledge this, that they expect perfect articulation from everyone, regardless of background, and punish those who don’t measure up, is a huge problem.

Worse still, the same people who act as gatekeepers of this language often fail to communicate their ideas in a way that is accessible at all.

This doesn’t mean that complex ideas should never be discussed. It doesn’t mean that people shouldn’t strive for accuracy in their language. But it does mean that if your goal is to educate, if your goal is to spread awareness, if your goal is to help people understand and join the movement, if your goal is to engage with fellow oppressed people, then you have a responsibility to meet people where they are. You have a responsibility to make your language understandable.

Because if people can’t even process what you’re saying, then what’s the fucking point?

And before anyone says, "Well, people should put in the effort to learn!" Let me make something very clear: They do.

People who are new to leftist spaces, or who are coming in from different linguistic and cultural backgrounds, are often trying their best to engage. They are listening, they are learning, they are processing. But if the response to every mistake, every slightly off phrasing, every unfamiliarity with a new term, is immediate hostility,

or even if it's just 'hey I see you're sharing a personal moment, but can you change your language to make me, personally, more comfortable with you discussing your oppression?' then you’re not teaching.

You’re just making sure only the people who already think and speak exactly like you get to stay in the room.

Your language, your terminology, your theory? none of it means anything if you can’t make it accessible to the people who actually need it. And it means nothing if you use it to Exclude rather than Include.

[thefrogman]

Late Night Hosts: A Retrospective.

After the success of this post...

I noticed people seemed interested in the history and personalities of late night comedians. Especially all the youngins who weren't around yet. These hosts were a big part of my comedy training. So I thought I'd share with you what I remember of my comedy analysis and some personal context showing what made them tick.

I will be covering Johnny Carson, Jay Leno, David Letterman, and Conan O'Brien.

And if this post is successful, I will do Craig Ferguson, Jimmy Kimmel and all of the newest hosts.

Almost all of this is from memory, so a few details could be inaccurate. But I used to set up 2 VCRs so I could record Jay, Dave, and Conan each night. I watched Conan from show #1. That was 1993 (I was 12 then) and I did this for several years.

I would also get a bit of Carson Daly on the tape and just be flabbergasted someone gave him a television show.

Even Kermit was like, "How is this guy more of a fucking muppet than I am?"

I would watch my tapes and study them and take notes. I would do little comedy exercises. I tried to write a Letterman Top 10 List (I called it a "top 7½ list" because I feared the copyright police). I wrote monologue jokes about celebrities. And I tried creating silly characters like on Conan.

I was a big comedy nerd as a teenager, what can I say?

I even created an alter ego called "Bob the Frog" who was basically a ripoff of Triumph the Insult Comic Dog and Don Rickles. "Bob" wrote a comedy newsletter (I still have it somewhere) that I passed around to my classmates in junior high. This frog alter ego was my first attempt at comedy writing. (If you've ever wondered why I am "The Frogman", now you know.)

The first few were really bad. Then I got better and my friends started asking if I had written anything new. It was my first taste of making people laugh and I was hooked. I knew comedy would be a part of my life from then on.

I learned that I hated insult comedy. I felt too guilty. The only person I felt comfortable saying bad things about was myself. So "Bob" would say I was a lame dorktopus.

Eventually, I did stand-up until I was too sick to perform (1999-2003). I was just getting good so that was a very difficult period of my life. It felt like my dream was snatched away by my poor health.

On a whim, my best friend Tru McGowan convinced me to start a comedy Tumblr in 2009. At first I was really bad. I was used to stand-up where you had a new crowd each time and you could polish jokes until they were perfect. The hardest thing about internet comedy (much like late night comedy) is that everything is your *first* draft.

I'm not sure if people realize how difficult first draft comedy truly is. You can get decent at predicting what an audience will laugh at. But it is *never* a sure thing. Things you work on for days and are positive people will love... they will bomb horrifically. Things you write in 20 seconds and post on a lark... they go viral to a few million people.

But the greatest tragedy of all is when you post something with potential and it bombs. You know if you could workshop it with a proper crowd over a week or a month, you could make something amazing.

But it is already out there.

Your entire following saw it.

It is what it is.

That is some genuine 2009 Froggie comedy right there.

I just put text on a picture. I mean, this dude definitely wanted to bang that rancor and his dream was crushed just like its head. There is a joke there. And lolcat style text-on-a-picture was the comedy fad.

But "Gay for Rancors" got 15 pity notes and that was the end of my exploration of rancor fetish jokes.

Soon I started putting a little more effort into my originals. Somehow Photoshopping this bacon on a string got me 50 notes.

And I was never one to shy away from capitalizing on a current meme, so this accrued 143 notes (viral for Tumblr in 2009).

I got to know my audience. I started understanding what worked and what didn't. I did a lot of experimenting and eventually I started understanding this new comedy medium. If you are weird and put forth enough effort, people will reward you.

As an internet "first draft" comedian, I feel a spiritual connection to late night comedians. They have one day to write 15-20 minutes of material and once they send it out into the world... that's it. No second chance.

I think studying Conan and Dave helped prepare me for my blog. I still prefer polishing material over time, but I'm so glad I could rise to the occasion when circumstances demanded I "first draft" my entire comedy career.

So...

Let's get started.

Heeeeeeeeeeere's Johnny!

Johnny Carson

I missed out on peak Johnny. But I have watched a bunch of those compilation videos with highlights from the show. I mean, I used to watch the 3am infomercial for those compilation videos. So I feel like I am still qualified to analyze him as a long-time student of comedy.

I started becoming aware of comedy right as Johnny was retiring. I literally studied it like a subject at school while not studying actual subjects at school. And the late night shows were some of the best learning tools available (aside from getting stand-up specials from Blockbuster). You got to see comedy every night and a variety of comedians with different styles.

Johnny was the best at the traditional late-night monologue. It's not that the jokes were funnier. Honestly, it is impossible to write 5 minutes of stand-up in a day that can give you anything more than a chuckle. But the audience knows that and it causes something I call "forgiveness comedy." People will adjust what they think is funny depending on the circumstances. If they know you had a day to write something, the audience will consider that and be primed to laugh more at less funny material. Especially if they like the comic.

The best example is improv. An audience will forgive the joke quality just because they are amazed it is coming straight off the dome (that isn't always true, improv is more magic trick than spontaneity, but that is another post). But if you tried to perform that same improv as a polished stand-up act, it would likely bomb. The brain adjusts to context.

Johnny took advantage of this and where he really shined was in between the written jokes. His bombs were opportunities. He would react with some self-deprecating remark and get a bigger laugh for making fun of his shitty joke. Basically, when Johnny was in trouble he was at his best. His reactions were what made him so loved.

His most famous reaction-style comedy was probably the tomahawk demonstration. I think this was one of the longest sustained audience laughs in history—which, sadly, the video cuts off. I think it was 4 minutes total.

Johnny was also a very good interviewer in the sense that he knew when to give people space. He didn't try to compete with all the funny people he invited on. He was a comedy support system and only stepped in when things went off the rails.

There were also his masterful softballs. (Sorry, I should explain I came up with my own comedy terms. They may or may not be actual comedy parlance.)

A softball is an easy setup for a joke (large balls are easier to hit). A conversational premise without a punchline. If you are riffing with another comedian and you know their strengths, you can set them up for a joke and let them take the punchline. This is a thankless comedy skill because you are giving away the glory to someone else. But being good at softballs often takes more creativity and skill than coming up with the punchline. Johnny knew he was speaking with some of the funniest people on the planet. And their success was his success. So he was always happy to set people up for hilarity.

Johnny was also a good sport. His friends would come on and make fun of him and he often laughed the loudest of anyone. Or pretended to be hurt for extra laughs. Rich Little and Tom Smothers would do impressions of Johnny in front of Johnny. I think this helped popularize the Friar's Club roasts around that time, of which Johnny was a roastee.

Johnny got along with everyone. I think the most endearing thing about his Tonight Show was that he was just trying to make sure everyone had a good time. It was fun. It was chill. It was comfort after a long day, like a television version of a warm hug. Many people would joke that is how they fell asleep each night.

There was one aspect of his show I have mixed feelings about. Johnny started the career of almost every comedian performing in the 80s. He would invite the new comics on the scene to do their "tight 5" toward the end of the show. It was a poorly kept secret that if he invited them to "the couch" for an interview, they were in. He was christening them a comedy star. Robin Williams, Ellen DeGeneres, Louie Anderson, Roseanne Barr, Jay Leno, David Letterman, Steven Wright, David Brenner, Drew Carey, Garry Shandling, Eddie Murphy.

And we can't forget Yakov Smirnoff.

Johnny was basically the all-powerful comedy judge. It was seen as a huge honor to be invited to the couch. But if you had a bad night or a bad audience or just weren't ready, that could end or set back your career in a huge way.

You either got a sitcom or a job at McDonald's.

Jay Leno

Jay was known as a very good road comedian. He was a very hard worker who would perform *anywhere* just to get experience. He performed at strip clubs and crappy hotel bars and those weird corporate events where you have to come up with jokes for vacuum salesman or mortgage analysts. You have to use hyperspecific industry terms and include employees in the audience. John Mulaney recently made the news for one of these gigs.

Actually, let me give corporate comedy writing a try...

"Vacuum salesmen are the only ones who can start their pitch with how much their product sucks.

Suction, am I right, fellas? Good suction sells itself. Bob's wife knows what I'm talking about. She can hit 20 kPa, easy. Heyoooo!

She's still no Miele C3 canister vacuum with included HEPA filtration. That thing has more new attachments than the CEO's hair.

Your plugs aren't fooling anyone, Steve!"

Though Jay started out working mostly clean, so I'm not sure he would have rated the suction of Bob's wife in kilopascals. Working clean meant he could do his act just about anywhere. But don't confuse him with a "clean" comedian.

Froggie Comedy Tangent

A comedian who happens to work clean can be funny. But a "clean comedian" will make you wonder how you are suddenly in Branson sitting next to a youth pastor and his flock. If they specifically brand themselves as "clean," you're just going to get thinly veiled (or blatant) conservative comedy. It will technically be apolitical, but all the subtext is MAGA.

I call it "I remember that" comedy. Because every laugh is derived from "Hey, that's that thing I know! I remember that!"

There is a thing called "Dry Bar Comedy" and their entire deal is inviting clean comedians to do shows. The non-drunk audiences (Get it? DRY bar) are laughing their heads off and it is so confusing.

I keep going "Wait, when did he tell a joke?"

They don't have to tell jokes!

They just have to talk about the "good old days" and people will be like, "I remember Cabbage Patch Kids!" and laugh at something resembling a punchline. Or sometimes there isn't a punchline—just a declarative statement that sort of goes up at the end.

I could have a lucrative comedy career just saying things like, "Do you remember G.I. Joe? I sure do miss when toys didn't have pronouns."

*uproarious laughter*

Almost every comedian that performs at the Dry Bar has a bit about spanking and ADHD.

"Kids these days have it easy. If you talk back to your daddy, you get a time out. Can you believe that? When I talked back to my dad, he made me pick out my own switch!"

*uproarious laughter*

"We didn't have ADD back then. We just had misbehaving children and a belt."

*uproarious laughter*

Comedians like Jerry Seinfeld and Jay Leno worked clean but it wasn't a moral thing. It just wasn't necessary for their material and was more marketable for gigs. They told real jokes with a premise and a punchline. They did the work and earned their laughs.

END OF TANGENT

It's weird to think Jay was once a respected and talented stand-up. Looking back, his material was... jokes for your dad. That's the best I can describe it. Not dad jokes, but jokes dads liked. Clever observations that would make dads go, "It do be like that!" Not really my thing, but he was good at it and he still draws decent crowds to this day. I mean, they all need walkers to get into the theater, but he packs the place with geriatrics wanting to laugh at Monica Lewinsky and OJ Simpson like the old days. Spoiler, Monica was a slut and Jay thinks OJ did it.

Jay did an adequate job on The Tonight Show. He was an okay interviewer and guests felt safe going on. They knew he wasn't going to talk about anything too embarrassing (with one major exception being Hugh Grant after he was caught with a sex worker).

Jay relied on bits that he knew worked and never really strayed once he had a working formula. He would read funny headlines. He would do his "Jaywalking" remotes where he found stupid people and used deceptive editing to make it seem like everyone he talked to was that stupid. Jay is really into things showing the decline of America in relation to the WWII generation.

Jay was the status quo comedian. He never really had "moments" that stood out and became legendary. Johnny had an entire DVD business just selling old clips from his Tonight Show. They were filled with moments that were so spontaneously and authentically hilarious that they stood the test of time. But trying to find a "greatest hits" compilation of Jay Leno's run will just leave you bored.

If you search YouTube for Jay's best moments, you just get a bunch of his "Headlines" segments. He's literally just reading clips from the newspaper.

As I mentioned in my other post, when he isn't in comedian mode, Jay Leno seems like a decent guy. He treated his staff very well and his work as a car historian is near academic level. When you hear him talk about old cars you feel like you are spending a weekend with your grandpa. So Jay's mean spirited monologues just seemed out of place and I think looking back, they ruined any chance he had at a legacy.

He just took cheap shots at celebrities and politicians and people in the news. And he did it relentlessly whether people deserved it or not.

Yes, every host at the time did this. But Dave felt like he was going through the motions and doing the monologue just because it was part of the format. His heart wasn't in it and he much preferred bantering with Paul Schaffer in the band than telling jokes about celebrities he doesn't actually care about. He was more interested in getting to the desk and doing his "real" comedy.

And Conan's jokes about celebrities were more silly than mean. He'd make fun of Tom Cruise or someone and then do the string dance.

But Jay would go dark. He had a smile on his face and it sounded like he was "just joking" but after hearing about Monica Lewinsky's story, Jay Leno's "just joking" was different. I remember Jay Leno making fun of that poor woman who had McDonald's coffee burn her vagina off. He probably got a few months of jokes out of that. He was such a nice guy outside of his comedy and looking back it seemed so out of place. But I think he did cheap shots because it was an easy laugh and he figured the famous weren't "real people."

If Jay was in head-to-toe denim, he was a solid dude.

If he was in a suit, he was an asshole.

Jay never stopped doing stand-up. You can catch a show this weekend if you want. Jay really likes to pepper in some classic 90s jokes about celebrities we have mostly forgotten. As I mentioned in my other post, I've heard him do Monica Lewinsky jokes as recent as 2019. They aren't part of his written material. They are usually ad-libs and callbacks. Like if Jay was fixing a car and someone said, "We need to suck the air out of these tires." There is a 90% chance Jay would respond, "Boy, where's Monica when you need her?"

He still does the "jokes your dad would like" material in his personal act. But they are much more like his Tonight Show monologues than his old stand-up. Easy jokes without much thought. Instead of his classic clever observations, he mostly complains about modernity, ad nauseam.

Actual joke...

"Have you seen these phones on your wrist? And you thought BUTT DIALING was bad!"

Get it? He's saying people are masturbating and accidentally calling people. Which completely misunderstands... no one talks on the phone, Jay. It's 2025 and we all have anxiety. Maybe you could do wank texting?

Okay, Jay. How about this as a joke, complete with a 90s reference...

"Have you seen these people wearing phones on their wrists? I guess they finally solved butt dialing!

But after they see a sexy picture of Cindy Crawford, Apple tells them they have 30,000 steps for the day!"

A famous fun fact is that he never spent any of his Tonight Show money. He lives off the interest and income doing stand-up. While he was host of The Tonight Show he still did stand-up just about every weekend. *I* think that *he* thinks that gives him working class cred despite his enormous wealth and caravan of supercars.

I'm glad his money allowed him to become the world's greatest car historian. I'm happy there is someone like him doing proper car conservation. His restoration of the Chrysler turbine car was fantastic. That is a neat piece of engineering and car history.

Jay never had a sex scandal and seems to love his wife. He's taking care of her as she battles dementia. I do feel sorry he is going through that.

Those are the nice things I can say about him.

But I think Monica Lewinsky and Conan O'Brien should be allowed one giant kick in the nuts.

David Letterman

Conan O'Brien wasn't the first person Jay Leno screwed over with The Tonight Show. David Letterman was actually Johnny Carson's favorite guest host. But he was quirky and experimental. The network liked Jay Leno's safer style.

It was a big controversy at the time and they even made a weird movie about it called The Late Shift. Pretty much every person portrayed claims it is horribly inaccurate. The actors they cast looked like when you draw from memory.

The big joke at the time was about the ridiculous chin prosthetic. Did you know Jay has a sizeable chin? Let's get Stan Winston away from Terminator 2 to make this bigass chin.

Dave started out as a TV weatherman. But once he got popular doing stand-up, they gave him a morning show. They tried to make him Regis Philbin. But he sucked at being Regis. Only Regis could be that excitable in the morning. Dave wasn't really a "morning" comedy guy so that was quickly cancelled.

In 1982, he got the Late Night show at 12:30am after Carson on NBC. No one paid much attention to him and he realized that. I think that excited him and he was just like...

Dave and his team created some of the most experimental comedy on broadcast TV up until that point. He was basically unsupervised in a comedy laboratory for over a decade.

He wore an Alka Seltzer suit and dunked himself in water.

He wore a Velcro suit and hurled himself against a wall.

Looking back I'm realizing he did a lot of suit based humor.

He had a very long running gag with character actor Calvert DeForest who Dave called Larry "Bud" Melman. He was a bit like a sidekick.

Calvert was this cute old man and would literally do *anything* Dave and the writers asked. He had no fear. He had no shame. He would often go to random places and interview people. But he was really bad at following the scripted material and would get confused and forget the jokes. He didn't understand how microphones worked. Any segment with him would go off the rails because he never quite understood the premise. Dave loved this tiny, elderly ball of chaos. The trainwreck was the joke.

Dave helped Super Dave Osbourne get his incompetent daredevil schtick out there. He let Andy Kaufman get in a fight with someone and no one could tell if it was a bit. (10:30)

Johnny and Jay's Tonight Show was where all the normie comedians went to get their big break. Dave was where the weirdos flocked to. And some of them were terrible, but they were *always* fascinating. I don't think Frank Zappa would have his cult following without Dave.

Dave was the first to regularly do "remote" humor where he'd just go out into the world and get into trouble with real people. The segments were great but Dave struggled with social anxiety. So that eventually evolved into Dave hiding in a van and making a Chinese-American deli owner named Rupert Jee repeat awkward things said in a hidden earpiece.

Dave's interview style was erratic. He was a very good host as long as he liked his guest. He loved having a real conversation with a fascinating person. He rivaled Craig Ferguson when those conditions were present. But if he didn't care for them, things would either get very awkward or very boring.

He didn't like pop celebrities who didn't have genuine talent. Paris Hilton or Kim Kardashian would have driven him nuts and he would purposely seem bored when interviewing someone like that. Dave had trouble "faking it." And instead of Jimmy Fallon's cringe fake laughter, Dave would just appear utterly uninterested.

But if he didn't like someone and chose awkward over boring... hoo boy... it was *really* awkward. And Dave relished in the discomfort.

Madonna (who Dave acknowledged as genuinely talented) was unhappy about his monologue jokes. Essentially he alluded to her being a bit of a slut. It was typical Late Night comedy fodder at the time. I'm not endorsing it, I'm just saying everyone did it and society didn't have a problem with it at the time. She released a book about sex called... "Sex." Then she released an artistic softcore black and white erotic music video that most people felt was... more strange than sexy. She just kinda talk-singed to the same loop and made out with a dude while clips of a dancer in full body spandex came out of nowhere.

The Wayne's World parody was much better and somehow less weird.

Needless to say, people made fun of this pivot to weird erotic art.

In any case, Dave had Madonna on and she turned the weird up to 11. I think she was trying to get back at Dave, but it had the opposite effect. He saw where things were going and he just kinda... "let her cook."

He was delighted to watch the train wreck unfold.

I mean, she was right. She was being slut shamed—by everyone, not just Dave. But she was so overtly odd that it was hard for people to hear that conversation within the chaos. And the only thing the mainstream news cared about was her potty mouth.

On the other hand, he liked Drew Barrymore a lot. Drew was a very good actress and she was charming and funny. She was just as weird as Madonna, but it was not oppressively weird.

I think Dave saw her more as a daughter figure. Or maybe he wanted to and was ashamed he wasn't successful? Or she made it difficult for him to be a father figure? Because she saw him as a... umm... daddy figure? He enjoyed her company but was uncomfortable with her affection, so her interview was awkward in a different way. This was especially famous because she ended up flashing him for his birthday.

Dave was complicated. He was a former alcoholic. He suffered from social anxiety while having the world's most social job. He was the most private public figure you could imagine. He managed to have a sex scandal that no one seems to know about or talk about. He was involved with his personal assistant who regularly appeared on the show. Then her roommate tried to blackmail Dave for two million dollars by threatening to expose the affair. Dave decided to just fess up and helped the authorities with a sting operation to catch the extortionist.

Dave was self-conscious and neurotic. I don't think he liked himself for a very long time. Which is probably why he tried to blow up his life and family. But he loved his son and once that love took hold he seemed to get his shit together. He seemed like a different person. I liked Dave's comedy much more when his life was a hot mess. But I liked Dave as a person much more when he started choosing good behaviors. Much like Jimmy Kimmel, family seemed to make him a better person.

Dave pushed the late night format to the limit and inspired an entire generation of comedians. He encouraged them to try risky things and experiment and became the comedy mentor that Jay Leno wishes he was.

Also he loved his mom and sent her to the Olympics and it was the cutest thing ever.

I'm a sucker for people who love their moms.

Conan O'Brien

Conan was my comedy idol. If you have followed my comedy over the years, you might have noticed a similar embrace of... intelligent silliness.

Stupid smart?

He was a magna cum laude Harvard graduate and a clown without the makeup. He was originally a comedy writer and head of the famous Harvard Lampoon humor magazine. He went on to write for The Simpsons and SNL.

He wrote that monorail episode.

Every Conan fan who wants to share a fun fact will make sure you know he wrote the monorail episode. Kumail Nanjiani did a great bit about this during Conan's Mark Twain Prize ceremony (it's on Netflix).

After Jay took over The Tonight Show and Dave gave NBC the finger and left for CBS, the "Late Night" slot needed a new host. And Lorne Michaels decided this pale redheaded giant from the SNL writing staff might be a good choice. No one had any clue who he was. No one had any confidence in his success—including Conan.

And the only person who saw a spark of genius was... David Letterman. (2:20)

Conan just started cranking out as much weird comedy as he could. The Masturbating Bear, Pimpbot 5000, FedEx Pope. There was a pooping robot at some point.

They had a sizeable robot budget.

He was the true spiritual successor to Dave's 80s Late Night show. By this time Dave mellowed out and didn't have the motivation and hunger to innovate like he used to. So Conan filled that role.

I think the reason Conan appealed to me specifically was because I saw a lot of myself in him. I was good at a lot of different styles of comedy—I had this almost shapeshifting ability to customize my humor to the person or audience I was entertaining. But eventually I decided I just wanted to make people feel good. I had to pick a style and stick with it. I wanted to make comedy comfort food that wasn't dumbed down or patronizing. It could be stupid and corny but I didn't want my audience to feel like they were stupid for liking it.

I don't know if I'm making any sense.

Conan was a genuinely nice guy and a constant people pleaser. He didn't have an edge and he didn't need one. He could do innovative comedy without punching down, without trying to push any offensive lines, without saying fucked up shit just to see if he could get away with it.

I'm not even knocking comedians who are skilled at dancing on the line. Some of my favorites of all time played with the line. Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, George Carlin, Chris Rock.

Louis CK and Dave Chappelle before they...

*heavy sigh*

But so many comedians at the time thought that was an easy path to success. They didn't realize you had to be incredibly funny in order to stand next to or jump over the line. You had to compensate with amazing jokes to get away with it. But that takes effort and talent and finesse. They preferred laziness and brute forcing edgelord material.

And that is how we got a gaggle of Joe Rogans.

Hmm, we need a better collective noun.

That is how we got an ivermectin of Joe Rogans.

Conan was unapologetically silly. But it had this foundation of intelligence in the subtext. And every once in a while, he'd let an Abe Lincoln fun fact slip out (he could be a legit Lincoln historian if he wanted to). He made comedy for smart people who needed to turn down the volume of their brain for a bit.

Thinking is exhausting sometimes, but you can't shut it off completely.

Conan struggled for several years to find an audience. I think he was on the verge of cancellation every few weeks. I watched him every night from the first show. I started to see what Letterman saw. It was really neat to watch him learn and grow. He taught me that comedy was a journey. And eventually people found him and loved him and the rest is history.

My favorite running gag was definitely the Walker Texas Ranger lever. He'd randomly pull a big red lever and all it did was play a clip from the show. Everyone knows the Haley Joel Osment AIDS clip, but that was not my favorite. (2:40)

Walker was an egalitarian karate pugilist.

It was such a brilliant bit that relied on Conan's setup and reaction. If he just played the clip without the antics, it would not hit as hard. It would be Jay Leno reading the newspaper.

And... I don't have the energy to fully explain Jordan Schlansky.

I wouldn't even know where to start.

The short version is... Conan doesn't quite know how to handle intense nerdy metrosexual autism and hilarity ensues.

I encourage you to go down the Jordan Schlansky rabbit hole. I promise you will start watching and suddenly it will be tomorrow and you'll look at the clock and not be sure if it is AM or PM. If you are wondering, yes, he is really like that. But he pretends not to be self aware to make it funnier.

And then there is Sona. Conan's Armenian assistant who doesn't do a lot of assisting. They are basically siblings. You can tell she became part of his emotional support system. At times she matched Conan's comedic brilliance without any experience or training. She has perfect timing and can hilariously devastate his self esteem like an emotional assassin. (2:45)

There is so much more, but you get the idea.

Conan is a brilliant, silly comedian. And he is a solid dude. Just like Leno, his staff stuck with him. He was a great boss that inspired fierce loyalty. They even moved from New York to Los Angeles for him. And when he lost The Tonight Show he started his own company just so he could keep everyone employed and paid. That eventually evolved into his successful Team Coco podcast network.

Before his TBS show, Conan was contractually obligated to not appear on television for a year. He went on a grueling tour across the country performing a live comedy musical variety show. This was mostly to maintain his staff until they could find a new TV home.

They made a documentary "Conan O'Brien Can't Stop" about this live variety show. Some people thought this revealed Conan to be a bit of a dick. But he just lost his dream job, his entire staff had no source of income, and he was going from city to city working 18 hour days, including a 2 hour, high energy stage show—all while trying to stave off his deep depression. (Also Jack McBrayer was an old friend, and that was an ongoing bit between them.)

I don't think I've seen Conan that vulnerable and that human and you could see his staff doing their best to keep him from imploding. He felt responsible for the livelihoods of hundreds of people. They loved him and knew he was doing it for them.

(And because he needs constant attention and validation, but what comedian doesn't?)

To end things I think I'd like to try one of my comedy exercises.

I'm going to do a Top 7½ list in the style of David Letterman Bob the Frog. I can only promise junior high level comedy.

(Also, if you have never seen Dave do one of these, number 1 always has a drumroll and is purposely bad.)

Top 7½ signs you are in a "clean" comedy club.

7½. The headlining comedian was cancelled for...

7. You ask for the drink specials and the waitress says they might have Diet Sprite in the back.

6. The comic was once ratio'd on Twitter after being called "Temu Jeff Foxworthy."

5. "Back in my day we had Transformers not transgenders. The Autobots' pronouns were roll/out."

4. The comic takes off his belt, holds it up to the crowd and says, "This was what we called Ritalin in the 80s."

3. Your seat has a gun holster next to the cup holder.

2. The comic assures everyone that he "found God" so there is no reason to google his name and "me too."

*drumroll*

Annnnd, the number 1 sign you may be in a clean comedy club is...

1. Thursday is "Free Tennis Balls for Your Walker Night!"

[luneartt]

— Catching fire script.

“"Well, it served them right.. It's their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District Twelve is no excuse to ignore you." Then her eyes dart around as if she's said something totally outrageous. "I'm sorry, but that's what I think," she says to no one in particular." — The Hunger Games book.

"Effie is kind of always the candy in the room. But Effie's own struggle, because inherently she knows what she's doing, is horrible—she's picking kids to go and murder each other and kill each other and die. So with her, it was always having her kind of teetering on shoes that really weren't balanced, or having her waist always pinched in a little too tight. It's almost like her own penance to herself, that she can't quite ever settle into her own life because she always has to be Effie Trinket. And so that's a reminder to her that she can never really be relaxed because no one is safe." — Trish Summerville, Catching Fire's costume designer.

"Unlike Drusilla, she [Effie] believes all the participants have a noble role to play. That begins to thin over the years . Every Games it becomes harder to justify the atrocity. You can see her clinging to good manners for reassurance of humanity's decency. But in terms of the Hunger Games, Effie being assigned as their escort was a lucky break for District 12. She might be ridiculous, but she's not malicious." — Suzanne Collins.

Effie has always been a morally gray character, and yet she has always been beloved by the fandom. This is the first time in over a decade that I've seen a specific group of people so determined to ignore the entire point of the character and the work out of personal pettiness and not only that, but going after and persecuting people who debate the character, accusing them of defending terrible things.

Effie is a very interesting contrast to Plutarch. While he was openly involved in the rebellion, he didn't have much humanity. Effie isn't involved in the rebellion, but she does have a lot of humanity. The difference? She doesn't have nearly as much power as Plutarch or, obviously, Snow. She didn't even have a say in the biggest impact of her comfortable life, which was becoming an escort. You can acknowledge those things and still acknowledge that she lived a life of privilege and comfort enough to be selfish and choose to protect herself from punishment - things that people in the district never could. That's what the author herself always did.

But what's been happening lately, with some people treating her as if she were Snow himself, as if she were the one moving the pieces instead of being one of the manipulated pieces in a regime that also captured and tortured her simply for treating people from the districts as human, is of immense political, social and emotional ignorance and pure misogyny. And wanting to undermine these debates is a gigantic disrespect to the books themselves.

[sour-cherryyy]

BLUE KISSES. 〜Ni-ki

Pairing: Bf!Ni-ki x Gf!reader. Summary: Overwhelmed by school, you push Niki away—but he returns with snacks, flowers, and a kiss that quiets the storm inside you. Word count: 1.2k words. A/n: Angst/ fluff. This one is slightly longer than the last one and lowkey out of my comfort zone bc I despise angst. Also, I've never written a kiss scene in my life so this was so new to me. Now playing: Love Poem By IU.

---------------------------------------------------------˚✿🫐

The doorbell rings. You know who it is- your boyfriend. You’ve been ignoring his calls and messages for the whole day and naturally he showed up to your house, worried and in need of the confirmation that you're alive. After another ring, and another, you heard beeping as he keyed in the passcode and the door gave a soft click as it unlocked. There was a quiet thud of shoes slipping off and the faint noise of feet shuffling grew louder and louder, as he reached our door. You don’t look up. The soft tap of footsteps approaches, hesitant, careful not to disturb what little peace you might have left. But peace feels foreign lately. 

You’re hunched over your desk; books are strewn like battlefield casualties across every inch. Highlighters dried up mid-sentence. Sticky notes curl at the edges, failing to hold onto anything but failed attempts. Scrunched papers form a fort all around you. The blue glow of your laptop screen washes your face in cold light. And you don’t realize it, but your shoulders are trembling slightly. 

“Hey,” Niki says, voice barely above a whisper. He always speaks softly in your space, as if your apartment is a chapel and he, reverent. “I brought the new strawberry milk you like.” 

You say nothing. 

A beat. Then, cautiously, he places the bottle on the corner of the desk where there’s barely room. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he puts them in his pockets. There’s a slight fidget to him, but he masks it with a smile you don’t see. 

“You okay?” 

You flinch at the question. Not because it’s unkind, but because it’s the wrong time. 

Your voice cracks out before you can catch it. “Can you... can you just go, Niki? Please? I didn’t answer your calls and messages on purpose. I’m being suffocated by deadlines, finals are around the corner, and I look a mess.” 

He freezes. You hear the stillness before you see it. And when you finally look up with tears decorating your face, his smile is gone. 

“I just… I can’t have you here right now,” you say, the words tasting like shame. “Everything’s piling up, and I can’t think straight, and I look awful, and you’re here being all perfect and I—” 

You stop yourself. But it’s too late. The damage is done. 

You glance up briefly. His eyes are darker now, shadowed with something that isn’t anger. It’s softer. Sadder. But it cuts deeper. 

He nods once. The hurt is subtle, but unmistakable. 

“Okay,” he says, quietly. “I’ll go.” 

The door clicks shut a few seconds later. You stare at it, willing yourself not to cry. 

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

You lose track of time. Ten minutes? Twenty? An hour? You bury yourself in readings and notes, but the words blur. Your mind spins and you seem to be learning nothing. There’s an ache behind your eyes. The kind that tells you sleep is a ghost you won’t catch tonight. 

There’s a knock. Three soft taps. The kind only one person makes. 

You open the door. 

He’s standing there with arms full. A bag of snacks balanced precariously against his chest. A small bouquet of blue daisies in one hand. 

“Hi,” he says, like it’s the first time. “I thought maybe... you could use a little less world on your shoulders.” 

You blink, throat closing with guilt, relief, and something fragile. 

“You came back.” 

“I always will.” 

“I don't deserve you.” You scoff at your stupidity from earlier. 

He steps inside and the air shifts. The room feels warmer. Softer. 

He doesn’t say anything more as he sets the snacks on the table, each item placed gently like a small offering. Your favourite, every one. You don’t remember telling him about the sour candy, but he remembered. Nor do you remember mentioning how daisies were your favourite flower, but he remembered. 

He hands you the flowers. 

“You always say blue feels like sadness,” he murmurs. “But I think it can be gentle too.” 

The daisies are wrapped in brown paper, tied with a ribbon. They smell like rain. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

You sit on the couch. He joins you, but keeps a little space between you. Waiting. Respecting. 

“I’m sorry for before,” you say. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I just… I hate you seeing me like that. Like this.” You give him a sad excuse of a smile. 

He turns his head, eyes finding yours. There’s no judgment in them. Just patience. 

“I don’t love you because you’re always okay,” he says. “I love you because you’re you. In every state you’re in.” 

The words break something loose inside you. You exhale, long and slow. Then you lean into him. Your head against his shoulder. His arm around you, careful and warm. 

He rests his chin gently on your hair. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. “Not tonight.” 

You don’t. 

You just sit there, soaking up his presence like sunlight through a window you forgot was open. 

Minutes pass. Then maybe more. He moves just enough to face you, brushing his fingers across your cheek, staring at your glassy eyes, admiring your beauty. 

“Can I?” he asks as he inches his face closer. 

You nod. 

He leans in slowly. His hand finds the side of your face, thumb brushing just beneath your eye, where a tear had threatened to fall. You tilt your head slightly and he meets you there-not with urgency, but with care. 

The kiss is soft at first. A gentle press of lips, tentative and warm. Then he deepens it, just enough to make your breath catch. There's nothing rushed about it—it's all understanding, all forgiveness, all the words you couldn't say spilling out in the way his lips move against yours. His other hand settles on your waist, grounding you, holding you close but never caging you. 

You melt into it, into him. The scent of his perfume, the quiet hum in his chest, the way he exhales through his nose like he’s been holding that breath all day. 

When he pulls back, his forehead rests gently against yours. Your noses brush, breaths mingling in the small space between.  

It was a blue kiss. One that speaks sadness, and invokes healing.  

“I love you,” he says. “Always.” 

“I love you more.” 

Later, you curl up beside him on the couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies and the blanket you both always fight over. He pulls you closer, fingers tracing soft circles on your back. The kind of touch that doesn’t ask for anything. The kind that says, ‘stay’. 

The storm outside your window has stopped. You hadn’t even noticed it had started. But now it’s quiet. 

And so are you. 

Your eyes flutter closed. And in the softness of his arms, and the warmth of his breath against your skin, you finally fall asleep. 

Two posts in one day? Part of me is screaming that I should save up my posts bc I know there will come a time where I'll have nothing but this is just too fun. Did we like it?? I hope we did! Again, constructive criticism is appreciated. This is not proof read so lmk if there are any typos. Thank you, -EL (masterlist)

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari watched Shinso walk off, smiling and waving with a grin. She then moved to lay down her head on Denki's shoulder and sighed softly. "I know I'm not my quirk or who I'm related too..." She informed. "But it still hurts a lot. It's scary too. For the rest of my life I'll probably be a target in someway, I'll probably always be running." She informed with a sniffle, moving to grip her scarf with her right hand and also Hawks' feather, just doing so unconsciously.

"I never got the chance to learn from my mom about this quirk since... I... I don't wanna get into it. But I never knew what her life was like when she was younger, never knew if the same went for her, since she passed that quirk down to me." She gave a soft hum. "But there's a weird comfort with having this quirk. I have something to remember my family by. I have all their quirks, s a part of them is with me."

Kari looked up and poked Denki's cheek with a faltering grin. "Even have yours too. And Shima's er I mean Kirishima's, Shinso's his actually helped me escape when I was kidnapped, then I have Maki's..T-tamaki, I mean Tamaki, and Papa's and a lot of others too. A lot of people important to me are kinda always with me. It's scary but also kinda nice... I just really hate how it came to be like this, ya know?" The child sighed softly, a distant gaze in her eyes as she nuzzled into Denki a bit out of habit, wanting all the comfort she could get.

"I... I hope Papa's okay. I wanna go home and just cuddle. I'm really worried about him." She muttered softly, tightening her grip on her scarf and subsequently Hawks' feather that was hidden in it.

Denki Kaminari offered Kari a warm, reassuring grin as he gently adjusted his arm to support her more comfortably. His tone stayed light, but laced with gentle concern.

"Hey, you don’t need to apologize, Kari," Denki said softly. "You’re allowed to feel everything you’re feeling. After everything that just happened? You’re actually doing amazing. Seriously." He gave her a small, reassuring nudge with his shoulder. "And trust me, you are not your Quirk. Or your bloodline. You're Kari. And you're already way stronger than that guy ever was—because you care. That’s what makes all the difference."

His voice lowered a bit more as he added with a soft chuckle, “Also, if you do end up eating all the gummies, I’ll just challenge you to a gummy-eating contest later. No hard feelings.”

Shinso Hitoshi, meanwhile, gave her a small, almost shy nod, slipping his hands into his pockets with an easy air of concern on the surface. “I got you,” he said simply, his eyes soft but unreadable just beneath the calm exterior. “Apple juice and a ham and cheese sandwich. If they don’t have it, I’ll get something close. No junk, I promise. Just enough to help you recharge.”

He turned to head toward the vending machines in the break room with a casual air—perfectly composed, effortlessly kind.

But behind his eyes… something else flickered.

Something calculated.

He’d seen it. The way she broke. The power she was afraid of. That vulnerability… that potential.

She really doesn’t know how valuable she is.

He masked the thought under a faint smile as he glanced back.

“Just hang tight. I’ll be back in a sec, okay?”

He walked off at a calm pace, every movement perfectly normal, perfectly composed… perfectly harmless.

And inside?

He was already planning.

Just a little longer. A little more trust. A few more gentle moments.

She wouldn’t even see it coming. No one would.

[whambamsami]

smile, you're on camera!

summary: you accidentally find out what neighbor!bucky really does for work. and he's more than interested to show you how professional he can be.

note: trying to work a bit more on my dialogue! definitely a bit out of my comfort zone haha but trying new things! this is also not proof read at all lol so it fully might be rlly jumbled and rambly but its 3am soooo

warnings: 18+, a little bit of language and the tiniest sliver of smut!

It really wasn’t your intention to find out what Bucky Barnes did for work. 

He was always kind, even friendly at times, and an overall good neighbor. Always lent you sugar when you needed some for any baked goods you’d make (in exchange for a bite, of course). Changed your oil for free when your car was giving you trouble. You’d shared a few movie nights, and he always made the popcorn with extra butter, just how you like it. Even let you crash on his couch when the power went out. 

That’s where you accidentally stumbled across his… equipment.

He had told you that he kept extra candles in a bottom drawer in his bathroom. He didn’t specify which, so you tried the left side.

And there they were.

Cock rings, vibrators, handcuffs. Things you didn’t even know the names of, but you were clever enough to infer. A whole rainbow of sexual depravity.

Certainly no candles. 

A gasp had left your mouth before you could stop it, drawing his attention. 

“What is it?” 

“I- nothing!” you replied, admittedly a bit too quickly, slamming the drawer back into place and scrambling to grab the candles from the correct drawer on the right side, hurrying back into the living room before he suspects anything. 

It’s not like you were snooping. It was his fault, really, for being so loose with his instructions. He should have been more specific.

“Found them!” you said, a bit breathless, thankful that the darkness of his apartment cloaked the rosiness that was blooming in your cheeks. 

You could only see his tall, broad silhouette, and you could see his head tilt a bit to the left. You imagined he was looking at you skeptically, but decided not to push it. 

In actuality, he was getting a better look at you. Smirking knowingly. 

Like a wild animal who had just trapped its prey. 

Once the candles were lit, he pulled out his projector you’d grown all too familiar with from your movie nights. Lucky for you two, it was battery-powered.

“You’re a genius!” you exclaim.

He grins. “Horror or rom-com?”

“Oh, rom-com, please. You can’t put me through a horror movie when the power’s out.”

“Aw, I was just trying to get you to cling to me when you get scared! We have to conserve body heat in these kinds of dangerous events, don’t we?” 

And despite his usual flirty demeanor, you let yourself imagine that he snuck a glimpse at your lips in the dark.

The candlelight was playing tricks on you, surely.

Always a great host, he made sure to remind you, “If you need anything, and I mean anything, I’m sleeping one door away, ok?”

You barely slept a wink that night, your mind plagued with questions of what he does with those toys. 

Of how he might use them on you.

A week goes by, and you’ve spiraled a bit. You haven’t seen Bucky since you spent the night on his couch, which was a bit of a relief, and you’d honestly been actively putting a bit of space between you two. But your apartment complex wasn’t all that large, and it was only a matter of time before you were waiting on the elevator to head up to your floor when a familiar vibranium hand stopped the doors from closing. 

Bucky’s large frame slid into the elevator, offering a warm smile and nod. 

“Hey. Think you might know what floor I need.”

You laugh lightly when you hit the button, doing your best to ignore the fact that his cologne in the tight space was starting to become really overwhelming. God, you just wanted to bury your face in his chest and breathe him in while he-

“Oh, forgot to ask- do you have a lighter I could borrow for tonight? It’s for a work thing” he asks as the doors to the elevator open and the two of you head to your adjacent apartments. 

“Oh, yeah, I can drop it off in 5?”

“Perfect! You’re the best.”

You close the door to your apartment, finally feeling like you can breathe again, before rummaging through one of your junk drawers. Where’d you put your lighter again? 

When you find it in your bathroom by a scented candle, your mind started to wander a bit. 

A lighter? For work? 

You’ve never really talked about work. You always assumed he was still doing the Avengers thing, or at least some form of government work. Hell, with his body, he could probably be a personal trainer and make more money than you could imagine.

So what did he need a lighter for?

After slipping the lighter into your pocket, you pop into Bucky’s apartment after two quick knocks.

“Bucky?” Nothing for a few beats, and his apartment wasn’t exactly huge, so he had to have heard you. Where the hell was he? “I brought the lighter, like you asked!”

“In here! He calls from his bedroom. 

…Were you supposed to go in there? 

No. Thats a bit personal.

It’s not like you’d accidentally seen his sex toy collection or anything.

No, the bedroom is too personal, you decide. 

“I’ll just leave it on your counter! Don’t want to interrupt…”

You can hear him rustling a bit behind the closed door, and it creaks open. 

Bucky, wearing an easy smile, and almost nothing else, making his way toward you.

Okay, it wasn’t like he was naked, he had on a loose-fitting pair of joggers, but this was your first time seeing Bucky shirtless, and the way his bare torso had you reacting was practically worse than if he came out totally nude. 

Tanned, broad shoulders. Those arms, thick and toned, hanging casually by his sides like they weren’t the most tempting thing you’d ever seen. Rippling muscles littered with scars of his life before, hardened by such physical work. A dusting of chest hair, and a happy trail that led your traitorous eyes down, down, down…

“Thanks again, really. My last one hasn’t worked since the power outage, and I haven’t had the chance to replenish.” 

You snapped your gaze back to his, trying desperately to fan the flames in your stomach that were making your cheeks a bit rosier than normal.

“Of course! It’s just a lighter.” You shrug, hoping that you sounded casual. 

“I did mean to ask you…” Bucky tilts his head, intrigued as to what you might be asking. “What exactly does a supersoldier need a lighter for? Does Tony Stark not have that in the budget?” You joke lightly, a mask to your genuine curiosity.

That earns you a laugh from the mountain of a man before you. 

“That’s just my day job, actually. The candle I need for the night shift.”

“...Night shift?”

“I’m in the adult industry.” He says. His voice comes out plain but his eyes scan your face, trying to guage your reaction. Like he’s secretly a bit nervous.

“...Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So like… drugs?”

Another laugh from him.

“God, no, I work for the government! Which, believe it or not, doesn’t pay very well, so… I do a little work in the adult entertainment industry. Sometimes”

A beat passes. 

“You know…porn?” he continues, having the gall to smile. 

You go bright red. 

“Oh!” you finally manage to squeak, “that’s nice! I mean, whatever puts food on the table, right? Plus, I’m sure you have a good clientele… not because you’re hot or anything, I mean, you are hot, but I just meant being an Avenger and all-”

He’s chuckling warmly as you scramble for coherence. 

“No, I get it. It’s definitely a bit… unconventional, but I can’t deny that the pay is a large draw. Plus, it isn’t work if you’re doing what you love, right?”

Oh, now he’s trying to kill you. 

You pause a moment more. 

“...can I ask one more question? At the risk of being even more invasive?”

“Course. I’m an open book.”

You take a deep breath.

“Are you going to fuck a candle?”

That makes him burst out loud. 

“God, is that what you think I need this lighter for? No! I mostly do solos and I have a private chat room where people can request whatever depraved stuff they’d like me to do. Tonight, I had someone ask me to do some wax play. It’s not exactly something I do all the time, so…” He holds the lighter up, like it should’ve obvious what he needed it for in the first place. 

“Well, what was I supposed to think! And good, I can’t imagine that would feel amazing.” 

You both laugh a bit, and you’re silently thanking the lord that he seems to see this conversation as amusing and not incredibly intrusive of you. And that he can’t seem to tell that the fact that your hot neighbor does porn is a living fantasy for you or anyone else with a libido.

As you turn his doorhandle to leave, you pause and turn around to ask,

“...Would you fuck a candle?”

He grins and has the nerve to wink.

“For the right price.”

And you practically sprint out of there.

Later that night, curiosity got the best of you.

Well, of course it did! Your superhero neighbor-crush-thing does porn. You’re only human. 

You felt shame, hot and wretched, curl in your gut as soon as the idea crossed your mind.

But, like all bad ideas, once it dug its way into your brain, there was no stopping you until you scratched that itch. 

It was late. Really late. The glow of your phone told you it was almost 2 AM. That added to your shame a bit as you punched in Bucky’s name into your search bar, earnestly unsure of what you might find. 

You tried combinations. JamesBarnes popped up with a profile of a middle-aged dad in Minnesota. WinterSoldier came up with a ton of profiles, from fan accounts to political conspiracy theorists. The prolonged longevity of your indignity almost had you giving up, but you decided that it wasn’t wrong of you to look. It wasn’t like you were paying for an OnlyFans here, you were just looking up your neighbor’s public profile. Was that such a crime? 

Your shaky fingers typed in BuckyBarnes, and there he was. A blue checkmark perched like a medal next to his name. He was a bit famous, you supposed, so it only made sense. 

For someone with so many followers, he only had a few pictures. Some of him with Sam, and other Avengers you recognized. Some posts from him at charity galas, supporting children in underprivileged countries, veterans, and more. 

His more recent posts were definitely a bit more suggestive. His bare chest glistening after it appeared he’d finished a workout. In your apartment gym. His shorts hiked higher to display his muscular thighs. A knowing smirk for the camera, like he was smiling just for you. Some at the beach, his time in the water plastering his shorts to his skin, leaving very little to the imagination. Cheeky captions inviting an onslaught of admirers to leave comments, some suggestive, some so graphic you’re surprised they weren’t banned. @Fuckmebucky92’s remarks on his latest post of him sprawled on white linen sheets in just his boxers had even you clutching your pearls. 

A purple ring around his profile drew your attention.

He had posted a story.

Recently. From today, maybe.

It couldn’t hurt to look, you think. After all, he had so many followers that even if he did think to look to see who was viewing his story, he’d have to sort through thousands of fans before even getting close to you.

So you took a breath and tapped. 

And there he was, in the same joggers you’d seen him in earlier, smiling easily at the camera like he knew who was behind it. His metal arm glinted at the camera, and you could see he was speaking. You turned up your volume to hear his voice, deep and raspy, speak to his fans. 

“...and I’m lucky enough to have a few slots open tonight for some solo sessions, so if you’d like to get to know me a lot more personally, click the link in my bio. I can’t wait to see you soon.” and he winks cheekily at the camera, just like he did earlier. 

You almost throw your phone across the room, how much he affected you. Luckily for both your phone and your insurance, you managed to just drop it on your chest and cover your face with your hands. You needed a second to catch your breath, but you felt a buzz from your phone, and when you picked it up and checked the screen, you had a DM request.

No. 

There’s literally no way.

@BuckyBarnes: Saw you viewed my story. Did my confession earlier have you feeling a little curious, doll?

You could just die right now. 

@Y/N: is this how you find your clients? hunting down people who view your public profile?

He replied almost instantly.

@BuckyBarnes: Call me an entrepreneur. And don’t pretend like you were trying to be neighborly.

God, you could practically see his smirk.

@Y/N: confident, are we? i just wanted to make sure you weren’t using my lighter for anything more inappropriate than you already planned!

@BuckyBarnes: So you weren’t the least bit interested in what you might find on my account? C’mon, I won’t tell…

You’re about to quip something back, but you see those bubbles pop back up again. 

@BuckyBarnes: If you ever want a private session, I’m right next door.

Oh, he had to be kidding.

@Y/N: …do i get a neighbor discount?

@BuckyBarnes: Hell, I’d give it to you for free. 

@Y/N: that’s high praise. 

@BuckyBarnes: Call it an ambitious marketing strategy. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll convince you to be a guest star in one of my little homemade videos…

@Y/N: you must have really liked that lighter, huh?

@BuckyBarnes: I had plenty of fun with the lighter. But if I need to hold it hostage to convince you to come over here, I’m not above that.

You roll your eyes. Ever the flirt.

@BuckyBarnes: C’mon, baby. I’ve been dying to see what makes you tick. 

Once again, Bucky Barnes was stealing precious sleep from you. 

Of course you bump into him in the elevator the next morning.

You two exchange polite nods. He stands next to you. Had he gotten taller overnight, or was his presence just more encapsulating Your plan was to keep your mouth shut, because god knows it’s been getting you in trouble lately. But of course, Bucky wasn’t having that.

“Late night?” a knowing tone in his voice. 

Great. He’s in the mood to fuck with you. 

“..a bit.” you reply cautiously. What the hell is he playing at?

“You don’t want to ask me if I got enough sleep?” and that false innocence in his voice had you more nervous than you’d like to admit.

“...Did you have a late night, Bucky?” 

“Oh, I think you know the answer to that.” he coos, leaning in just enough to be closer than usual. 

Thank god it was your floor. 

The elevator doors opened and you practically jumped out, speeding off to your apartment, praying you made it out in time before he caught a glimpse of your face.

“Offer still stands, doll.” he calls after you.

Jesus Christ.

Your phone dings seconds after you make it to your apartment. 

@BuckyBarnes: Door’s always unlocked, sweetheart. Let me show you why I’m a professional. 

And you slump to the floor.

Hours later, you finished up at the gym and took a much-needed shower. The heat that had been building between you and Bucky was enough already to warrant at least 20 minutes self-reflecting in cold water, and your attempt to sweat him out of your system had proved fruitless. 

Of course, there was always the old fashioned way to relieve a little stress.

So that’s how you ended up on your back in bed with your hand shamelessly stuffed down your panties. Your little silk slip nightdress, the black one you sleep in when it’s extra hot in your room, is bunched up around your hips as you work yourself as silently as possible, stifling your little gasps, the thought of what Bucky could do to you filling your lust-clouded mind. 

You finally found a rhythm when your phone buzzed to life. Who the hell is texting you at this hour, interrupting your extremely vital indulgence?

@BuckyBarnes: Want to know one of the many perks of being a supersoldier?

God, why now? You were so close…

@Y/N: make it quick barnes, im busy

@BuckyBarnes: Oh, I know you are. Because one of the perks of being a supersoldier is the enhanced senses.

Fuck.

@BuckyBarnes: I can hear every pretty little noise you’re trying not to make right now. I can hear your heartbeat quicken. God, doll, I can practically taste you from here.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You would have to move apartments. Countries, maybe. 

@BuckyBarnes: Let me help you, sweet girl. I know what you need. Let me give you what you need, yeah?

@BuckyBarnes: Were you thinking about me, hmm? Trying to get me off your mind? Poor thing, you should have just asked me to help. I’m right across the hall.  

@BuckyBarnes: Let me take care of you, baby. 

[karusthings]

.⋆˚࿔ b e t t e r a l o n e - t. todoroki ࿐˚⋆.

ꎫ──[ husband au ; headcanons ]

character dynamicꎫ── husband!dabi x f!reader

summaryꎫ── request! when his family discover that Touya had a family; a wife and two beautiful twins.

content warningsꎫ── hurt no comfort, angst, mention of trauma.

wordsꎫ── 664.

comissionerꎫ── anon ♡

¡! ❞ masterlist mha.

After all this time, after everything you've heard about them… you couldn't bear to see them. You were angry, hurt, and determined to keep them away from you and your family.

Rei would be decayed.

– The fact that her little boy had a family made her happier than you could ever imagine.

– She remembered you. You used to play with him every time he had some free time, and you were the first to witness his progress with his quirk. Rei was deeply surprised when you said "I would never take the risk of you throwing boiling water on one of my children"... A wave of sorrow washed over her, knowing for certain that she would never get to see her grandchildren.

– When you reminded her of that fateful moment, she couldn't help but understand your point of view, feeling something break inside her. So, she wrote you a letter, even though she knew it would probably never be read.

– "I hope that they grow as strong as their father."

Enji would be shocked.

– If he felt useless when he found out his son was alive, discovering that he had a family who loved him brought both relief and shock. The worst part was that he didn’t even remember you. He couldn't recall seeing you around the house, or on the street... never near Touya. That’s how distant he had been from his own son.

– The look in his eyes was tired. Because of him, his wife and children had lived difficult lives. And now? He had broken them once again.

– He wouldn’t argue with you. Instead, he would understand your decision and lower his head gently. He had changed a lot over the years.

– "I just ask you to please give them a chance. It’s only my fault."

Fuyumi would be broken.

– She was overjoyed when she found out her older brother was alive —despite the situation— and when she learned about the little twins, Fuyumi nearly fainted from happiness.

– But once you told them about your decision, she was the most affected. In her mind, she had already made countless plans with you and the children, all of them crushed beneath the weight of the past.

– She understood, of course she did. But even so, she had held onto a sliver of hope that everything could become just a painful memory, nothing more. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She had tried so hard to reunite the family, to piece together a life made of dust… but you didn’t give in.

– "I can still be their teacher, if you please let me..."

Natsu would be angry. But not at you.

– He thought his mind had finally stopped torturing him with memories of his father tearing their lives apart, but now… they were back.

– He couldn’t help but feel the urge to punch something every time he remembered that, because of Enji, Fuyumi was now crying behind the next wall, aching to meet her nephews. And he wouldn’t deny his own feelings either. His chances of being the “cool uncle” to those twins already felt lost.

– He used to take long walks, and now he couldn't help but notice the children running through the streets, imagining if this is what the twins were like.

– “He was also a little kid. This is so unfair.”

Shoto would be happy.

– Touya had never truly been part of his life, so not being included in his new family didn’t feel entirely strange. As for pushing their father away, he had done that too.

– He couldn’t deny it pained him that his mother and siblings didn’t get that same chance, and your words had been sharp, heavy with disdain, but the wounds had long since faded into scars.

– What mattered now was that, after everything his older brother had endured, he had a family. Someone who truly mattered to him, two beautiful children that will always remember him.

– "We won’t be able to share those soba noodles, but I really hope they can enjoy them as a happy family."

¡! ❞ masterlist mha.

¡! ❞ little note; I've been wanting to write for Touya for a long time, and even if I'm not completely satisfied with the result, I'm still really excited to finally respond to this request!! Again, sorry for the delay <3

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ꎫ¨.｡ © 2025 all rights reserved, karusthings on Tumblr. Please, do not repost, edit, use or translate any of my projects.