#like instead of saying i’m going to sleep i just say going to sleep

[jobean12-blog]

Midnight Confessions

Light SPOILERS ahead!!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: A late night gives you the opportunity to flirt with Bucky and the next night he comes right back for more.

Author's Note: There are some Thunderbolts spoilers here- none really story related so much but more character driven. So reader BEWARE :D I had fun writing all the ridiculous dialogue in the beginning and it's a bit chaotic but I hope it makes you smile! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: fun and fluff, flirtiness, tension, sweetness

You set the timer and place it on the counter, leaning back with a sigh. While it seems everyone else in the tower is asleep, you’re as wide awake as the bustling city below. This is the second batch of cookies you’ve made this week, but no one seems to be complaining.

After contemplating something on the TV you decide instead to read, hoping it will make you sleepy.

No such luck and just as you’re starting the next chapter you see a dark shadow at the entrance of the kitchen, you’re body stiffening.

“It’s just me doll.”

At the sound of Bucky’s voice, you instantly relax.

“Jeez you’re quiet,” you whisper.

He chuckles lightly and steps into the kitchen. His hair is slightly mussed as if he’s been running a hand through it and his tee shirt clings to the broad lines of his chest and toned biceps. With a hard swallow you let your eyes drop lower, to the way his pants sit low on his waist but still hug his thighs.

“Can’t sleep?” you squeak out, dragging your gaze back to his face.

He shakes his head no and moves closer, revealing a surprise. The guinea pig Yelena rescued from the lab sits atop his left shoulder, tucked close to his neck and partially hidden by his hair.

You sit up with a gasp and rush over to him, cooing quietly and without a word plucking the piglet from his shoulder.

“What are you doing up?” you ask the guinea pig in a sweet voice.

“I probably should have let him sleep but as soon as I made noise he started squeakin’.”

You look up at Bucky and notice his soft expression as he watches you with the guinea pig.

“It’s a boy?” you ask.

“Actually, I don’t know,” he replies.

“Hmm,” you say as you pet it’s soft fur. “I bet it’s a girl.”

“That works too,” he smiles. “Are you making cookies?”

“I am…they should be out…,” and you walk over to the timer, “in three minutes.”

“Great doll. I could use a snack!” He slowly rubs his stomach as he stretches, revealing the dark trail of hair that disappears enticingly into his sweats.

The guinea pig squeaks and draws your attention away before he catches you staring.

“She needs a name,” you state as you cradle her in your arm.

Bucky is silent for a moment before he blurts out, “Cookie.”

“That’s cute,” you giggle, “but I think you’re just hungry.”

He doesn’t disagree and keeps thinking.

“She’s brown and white so…BACON!”

You stop petting the piglet and narrow your eyes at Bucky.

He holds his hands up in surrender, but you can see the way his eyes crinkle at the corners as he tries to hold back a smile.

“Are you going to wash the dishes?”

Bob’s voice is so low you almost don’t hear it but Bucky spins around at the sound.

“Bob!” both you and Bucky exclaim.

“What’s going on in here?” Bob asks as he looks between you and Bucky.

“We can’t sleep, and I made cookies,” you explain.

“And we’re trying to give the guinea pig a name,” Bucky adds.

“Ok,” Bob says. “I’m going to wash the dishes.”

“Do you want help?” you ask him. “I can dry the bowls.”

“Sure,” Bob says.

You hand the guinea pig back to Bucky. “Don’t get comfy. I want her back when I’m done.”

“Anything you want doll,” he says with a wink.

“How about Piglet?” Bob chimes from the sink.

“Like in Winnie the Pooh?” you ask as you slide up next to him and take the first bowl to dry it.

“Yeah…she’s kinda tiny…,” Bob says.

“So, you think she’s a girl too!” you say happily. “Bucky was calling it a he.”

“Not because I don’t think it could be a girl…I just…said he first.”

“It’s a girl,” Yelena says as she walks in.

“See! I knew it!” you sing song.

“What is going on here?” Yelena asks.

“None of us could sleep,” Bob answers. “So, we’re making cookies, washing dishes and naming the guinea pig.”

“Are the cookies ready yet?” Yelena asks, eyeing the oven.

“Just about,” you answer.

“Bob suggested Piglet…but I like Bacon,” Bucky says to fill Yelena in.

“Of course you would say Bacon,” she tsks. “I like Piglet.”

“Do I smell cookies?”

Walker strides in and heads straight for the oven.

“HEY Walker,” you whisper shout. “They’ll be out in a minute.”

He stops and plops himself down on a stool at the island with a huff.

“Why didn’t anyone invite me to the party?” he says.

“Because you’re an asshole,” but you and Yelena chime simultaneously but not without a smile pulling at each of your mouths.

“Can I least have some cookies,” Walker asks.

“Of course,” you tell him.

“Why don’t you name the pig, Hamlet,” Walker adds.

Everyone is quiet for a minute and tries to hide their smiles. “Actually, that’s cute,” you say, “but we’ve decided it’s a girl so maybe something…more…girly.”

Walker rests his chin in his hands but remains silent.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Ava says, appearing from the other side of the wall.

Bob startles at the sink and Walker rolls his eyes.

“No one can sleep, we are about to eat cookies, and we need a name for our girl guinea pig,” Yelena sums up quickly before opening the oven just as the timer dings.

“Pipsqueak,” Ava says flatly.

Yelena smiles. “I like that. She does squeak…a lot.”

“But she’s brave,” Bob says. “She survived the lab. I wouldn’t call her a pipsqueak.”

“But Piglet is scared of everything isn’t he?” Bucky muses. “So that wouldn’t work either.”

“Oh,” Bob sighs. “Yeah, he is.”

“Still like Bacon,” Bucky mumbles to himself.

“WHO SAID BACON?” Alexei booms when he walks in. “We eat?”

Yelena hangs her head with a sigh and Ava rolls her eyes.

“No bacon,” Bucky says sadly. “But we have cookies.”

“Hm, that will do,” Alexei says as he walks over to Yelena and pulls out the hot tray with his hand.

“You should let them cool,” you say to Alexei as he goes to grab for one.

“No, no…I like them all gooey and melted and messy…” He pops half the cookie in his mouth and hums happily.

Bucky slides over; the guinea pig nestled in the crook of his metal arm as he grabs for a cookie.

Walker reaches over the island to grab his own.

“They’re still hot guys!” you scold but give up with a sigh when half the tray is gone in under a minute. “You better grab one,” you whisper to Bob.

He turns from the sink and wipes his hand, reaching for a cookie and placing it on a napkin near him. “I’ll let mine cool,” he says with a small smile.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence and lots of mumbled praises over the cookies, you ask, “so what are we naming the guinea pig?”

Alexei yells out, “ALEXEI!”

Everyone answers with a determined, “NO!”

Alexei deflates and takes another cookie.

“So far we ruled out all the suggestions,” you say, leaning back on the counter next to Bucky.

Without prompting he hands you the guinea pig. You gently hold her up and look her over.

“I have so many ideas but none of them seem to fit,” you huff.

“All mine are related to food,” Bucky shrugs.

“I still like Alexei,” Alexei grumbles.

“Hamlet isn’t girly enough,” Walker says.

“Piglet and Pipsqueak make her sound too timid,” Ava adds.

Finally, Yelena says, “what about Nat?”

All eyes turn to her, soft with unspoken words.

“That’s perfect,” you say quietly and everyone agrees.

Once the few remaining cookies are packed away and the kitchen is clean you walk over to Bucky who’s leaning against the wall, Nat once again cradled against his chest in the crook of his metal arm.

“She likes that spot,” you say quietly as you gently stroke her back.

“Yeah, maybe because it’s cool,” he says and then softly touches her nose as it twitches.

You watch him for a moment, so sweet and gentle with the little furball.

“You’re so cute,” you say softly.

“She is right,” Bucky agrees.

“She meant you super soldier,” Alexei chuckles from behind you. “Not pig.”

“She’s a guinea pig Dad,” Yelena dead pans.

Alexei waves his had dismissively. “All same.”

Your eyes meet Bucky’s, and you see the tops of his cheeks, just above all the dark stubble lining them, turn light pink.

“You meant little Nat right?” he asks.

“She definitely meant the guinea pig,” Walker says with a yawn as he walks by. “I’m goin’ to bed.”

Ava follows close behind him. “Me too. And she meant you Barnes.”

Alexei slaps Bucky hard on the back, jostling Nat in his arms and Bucky glares.

“Oh. Right, sorry,” Alexei mumbles then smiles wide. “She thinks you are cute.”

He walks away rubbing his stomach.

Only Yelena and Bob remain, Yelena with a smirk lifting her lips and Bob with wide eyes.

Your eyes stay on Bucky, and you lean in closer, still petting Nat. “No. I meant you. You’re really cute. Especially with her. It’s sweet.”

“She said he’s cute,” Bob whispers to Yelena who’s full on smiling now.

“Da,” Yelena nods, grabbing Bob’s arm to pull him down the hall.

“Does she like him?” Bob asks as he passes by you and Bucky.

Yelena laughs but doesn’t answer and keeps tugging him away.

The two of you are now alone and you watch Bucky’s gaze quickly drop to your lips before he says a quiet, “thanks.”

“Hope you can get some sleep,” you tell him then kiss his cheek. “Night.”

“Night, doll,” he whispers as he watches you walk to your room.

The next night when you’re still awake after midnight you head to the common room but when you don’t see a sign of anyone else you decide to go watch a movie until you fall asleep. The light knock on your door an hour later surprises you and when you open it to find Bucky on the other side you’re even more surprised.

“I didn’t wake you did I doll?” he asks in a rush.

“No, don’t worry. I was watching a movie.”

“I thought I saw light under the door so I figured you might still be up.”

“Did you want more cookies? The leftovers are in the cabinet.”

“Actually…Alexei ate them all. I checked…”

You snort laugh and grab Bucky’s hand, pulling him through the doorway.

“Of course he did,” you say as you plop down on the small couch.

Bucky follows and then stands there as if he’s unsure what to do next.

“You can sit,” you tell him.

He does.

“Are you watching The Goonies?”

“I am!” you say excitedly. “I’m so glad you’ve seen it.”

“Classic 80s.”

“Exactly,” you agree.

You settle back into the cushions and let your shoulder brush his. As the movie continues your body relaxes against him and he lifts his arm to rest it along the back of the couch. His fingers brush your shoulder and when he feels your skin pebble beneath his touch he does it again. Your breath catches in your throat and you audibly swallow.

The movie ends and you’re still pressed against him, his arm now circling your shoulders as his fingertips ghost over your skin.

“That’s one of my favorites,” you say and turn to meet his eyes.

“Mine too,” he whispers, curling his fingers around your arm so you turn your body into his.

His eyes wander over your face, their soft reverence only sharpened when they stop on your lips.

“Doll…I…”

Whatever he wants to say is lost in the moment and he presses his mouth to yours, softly at first, but when you slide your fingers into his hair and tug him closer, he hums low in his chest and deepens it, parting your lips.

His knuckles skim down your arm before splaying at your back and pulling you into his lap. His hand slips under your shirt, every caress of his fingertips slow and teasing as if he’s savoring every moment and committing it to memory. His kisses are sweet and languid and the hair lining his face scratches the soft column of your neck as his lips trail downward to your hammering pulse.

A deep and satisfied hum rumbles through his chest and you press yourself closer, feeling the hard lines of his muscle beneath his shirt.

“Bucky,” you whimper.

He lifts his head to stare at you, his breathing fast. His metal thumb lifts to trace your swollen bottom lip before he slides it behind your neck and brings your lips back to his, nibbling the same spot then soothing it with his tongue.

You moan into his mouth and the sound snaps what little control he’s holding on to and suddenly you’re flipped to your back, your wrists in his metal hand and pinned above your head. His eyes teasingly trail over your body, and you go pliant in his hold, your legs falling open as he settles between them.

He leans down, dipping his head to run his nose along your neck, breathing you in before his lips are on yours again.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, his hand releasing your wrists and sliding lower to stroke your curves. “I knew you would be.”

“You’ve thought about it?” you ask as you tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, licking his lips. “I came over here with the intention to ask you out on a date…”

“Is this not…?”

He cuts you off. “This is exactly what I want…you’re what I want. I’m just…trying to be a gentleman.”

Your lips form an O shape, and he kisses you again.

“I’ll go on a date with you Bucky,” you murmur between kisses.

“Good, that’s good,” he says, his warm hands continuing their exploration of your body while his lips trail down your neck.

You arch into him and slide your hands from his hair down his back, scraping lightly with your nails.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

When his eyes lift to yours he wears a pained expression.

“A gentleman,” he repeats.

“Right. A date,” you say.

“Fuck,” he mutters again but doesn’t move an inch.

You stare at each other, the tension building in the small space between you before he dips his head and kisses you again. His lips find the spot just below your ear and he whispers, “if you don’t tell me to go now…”

“I don’t want you to go Bucky. I want you to stay. I want you.”

[snottyped]

roommates rut

werewolf x female reader

It started with him avoiding eye contact.

You’d been living together for months without issue—mostly chill, occasionally flirty, never serious. He was big, warm, annoyingly hot in that messy-hair, heavy-lidded, always-shirtless kind of way. You teased him for how much meat he ate, the way he slept with the window open even in the dead of winter, how he always seemed restless.

You never asked about the wolf thing. It felt… impolite.

But this week? He was different. Quieter. Snappier. Like he was holding something back. His muscles were more tense, his jaw tight. He wouldn’t stay in the same room with you for long. Every time you moved past him, you could feel his eyes on you—and not in the usual “roommate checking out your ass” kind of way. It was deeper. Hungrier.

Then, on Tuesday night, he finally said it.

You were sitting at the counter, scrolling your phone, halfway through a tub of ice cream, when he walked in shirtless and flushed, sweat gleaming across his chest. His hair was damp, like he’d just showered, but his skin still shimmered with heat. He opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and then just stood there—shoulders rising and falling too fast.

“…I’m going into rut,” he muttered, like it hurt to say the words. “This week. Maybe tonight.”

You blinked, barely looking up. “Okay?”

He tensed. You could feel it even from across the room.

“I just thought you should know.”

You snorted. “You say that like I’m supposed to lock my door or something.”

A long silence.

He closed the fridge, didn’t move. “Might be smart.”

That made you look at him. Really look. His eyes were dark, hooded, and very, very pointedly not on your face. There was something barely contained in his posture—like if he moved the wrong way, he’d snap.

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I’ll stay in my room.” His voice was rough. “Just don’t… don’t walk around in those little shorts. Or your towel. Or anything that smells like you.”

“…So I should just stop existing?”

His jaw clenched. He looked like he wanted to say something else—maybe beg. Maybe warn you harder. But instead he just growled under his breath and stalked off, leaving a trail of heat and tension in his wake.

You should’ve taken the hint.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. The air in the apartment felt thick, humid, like the walls were sweating. You kicked off your blanket and rolled over, but then you heard it.

A creak. A low groan. The rhythmic thud of a mattress rocking too hard. A muffled curse.

You slipped out of bed, heart thudding, and cracked your door open. The hallway was dark, lit only by the faint glow under his door—and the sounds. Wet, fast, desperate. His breath coming in ragged gasps. The broken snarl of his voice.

“Fuck… fuck, just need something tight…”

You froze, breath caught in your throat.

He let out a whine, low and rough, followed by the unmistakable slap slap slap of skin against something soft. You didn’t need to guess what. The whole apartment reeked of sweat, heat, sex. And underneath it all, faint but familiar, you could smell yourself—your shampoo, your laundry, your skin.

You knew you should walk away. Go back to bed. But you didn’t.

The next night, it was worse. Louder. Wetter. Like he wasn’t even trying to hold back anymore. You pressed your pillow over your head, but it didn’t help. You could hear everything. Every needy growl, every slap of flesh, every low, hungry moan. You were flushed and squirming under the sheets before you even realized your hand had slid between your legs.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That it was just curiosity. Shared space, thin walls. Nothing more.

But when he cornered you in the hallway the next night—bare-chested, sweat dripping from his neck, pupils blown wide—you knew something had shifted.

His breathing was shallow. His body radiated heat. And his voice, when he spoke, was barely human.

“I can’t—can’t do this anymore,” he rasped, stepping closer. “You smell too good. I need you. Please.”

Your mouth went dry. Your heart kicked hard in your chest. He was huge, trembling with restraint, and every cell in your body lit up with want.

You could’ve said no.

But you didn’t.

You grabbed his shirt, yanked him closer, and whispered, “Then take me.”

He didn’t kiss you at first.

He slammed you against the wall.

His hands gripped your hips like he didn’t trust himself—like if he touched you any rougher, he’d break you. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged and burning as it ghosted across your lips.

“I’ve been fighting it,” he choked. “Three fucking days. Every time you walk past me, every time you laugh, every time you wear that goddamn skirt—”

You tugged his head down, dragging your mouth to his. “Then stop fighting.”

That was all it took.

He crashed into you, mouth hot and greedy, devouring you like he was starving. His tongue pushed past your lips with a low growl, and you moaned into him, fingers fisting in his hair. He kissed like he fucked—rough, consuming, no room to breathe. His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered, voice low and dark.

You obeyed.

He carried you to his room in a blur—slammed the door, shoved aside everything in his path, and threw you down on his bed like a prize. The sheets were soaked with his scent, still warm from earlier. The air was thick, humid, dizzying.

You barely had time to think before he was on top of you again—hands tearing at your clothes, mouth everywhere at once. He pressed his nose to your throat and groaned, breathing you in like oxygen.

“Smell even better up close,” he rasped. “So fucking sweet… drives me insane.”

His teeth grazed your neck, not quite biting—but close. Teasing. A warning.

Your shirt was gone, then your underwear, ripped down your legs with a snarl. He was frantic, panting, barely holding himself back. His eyes burned gold in the low light, his pupils wide and wild.

“You sure?” he growled, even as his hands slid between your thighs.

You nodded, breathless. “Yes—fuck, yes.”

He didn’t waste another second.

He leaned down and dragged his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste like it was the first real relief he’d had in days. You cried out, hips jerking, and he pinned you down harder, his grip bruising. His mouth was everywhere—tongue plunging deep, nose grinding against your clit, licking and sucking like a man possessed.

Your thighs shook around his head. “Shit—wait, I—I’m gonna—”

He didn’t stop. If anything, he went harder.

You came hard and fast, gasping his name, hips bucking against his mouth as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave. He groaned into your cunt, licking you through it, drinking down everything you gave him.

When he pulled back, his mouth was wet, chin slick, eyes glassy with lust. He looked feral.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you,” he growled. “Need to feel you. Gonna fill you up, knot you so deep—”

He stripped what was left of his clothes in seconds, and your breath caught at the sight of him. He was huge—thick, flushed, already leaking—and at the base of his cock, you could see the swell of his knot, already beginning to form.

“Jesus,” you breathed. “That’s not gonna fit.”

“It will,” he said darkly, crawling over you. “It has to.”

He lined himself up, ran the head of his cock through your soaked folds, and moaned low in his throat. “So wet already… your body knows. It wants this.”

You didn’t deny it. You couldn’t.

“Hurry.”

He pushed in slow—just the tip—and your breath caught at the stretch. He was thick, and every inch felt like too much and not enough all at once. You dug your nails into his arms, moaning as he inched deeper, watching your face the whole time.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Take me. Let me fuck you through it.”

You whimpered as he bottomed out, his hips finally flush with yours, the base of his knot grinding against your entrance. The feeling of him inside you—hot, heavy, overwhelming—made your whole body tremble.

And then he moved.

Slow at first. Deep. Grinding his hips into yours with slow, brutal thrusts that made your breath hitch every time he hit that sweet, aching spot inside you.

“So tight,” he growled, voice slurred with heat. “So warm around me—fuck, you’re perfect.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, moaning into his neck. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He picked up the pace, hips snapping faster, the slap of skin on skin getting louder, filthier. The wet sounds of your bodies colliding filled the room, slick and obscene, and you couldn’t stop moaning. Couldn’t think.

Your legs shook. Your body burned. You were stretched and stuffed and ruined and it still wasn’t enough.

You needed more.

He was pounding into you now—fast, hard, deep—his growls vibrating against your throat as your hips rocked up to meet every thrust.

“Fuck, fuck—you feel so good,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “So wet… you’re sucking me in.”

Your legs were wrapped tight around his waist, clinging to him like a lifeline. You could feel every inch of him—his thick cock sliding deep inside you, the swollen base of his knot grinding harder and harder against your entrance with every stroke.

You cried out, nails raking down his back. “You’re—ah!—gonna knot me—!”

“Yeah,” he snarled. “You ready for it, sweetheart? Gonna let me lock you up? Fill you till you’re dripping?”

You couldn’t even speak. Just nodded frantically, choking on your moans, your body trembling from the stretch and the heat and the pressure building, building—

Then his hips slammed forward—brutal and deep—and the thick ridge of his knot pressed hard against your cunt, stretching you impossibly wide.

You moaned.

It burned, that raw, overwhelming pressure of him trying to push deeper, your pussy clenching tight around his cock as your body fought it—and then gave in.

With a slick, wet pop, his knot slid inside.

“Shit—!” he growled, voice cracking as his hips stuttered. “That’s it, that’s—fuck—!”

Your body arched. You were full—so full you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The knot locked you together, pulsing deep inside, sealing him in as your cunt fluttered helplessly around him. You came again, hard, clenching tight around the thickness as you cried out, legs trembling.

He held still, buried to the hilt, his arms locked around you like a cage. You could feel his cock throbbing, feel the rush of heat as he spilled inside—hot and thick and so much, your belly aching from it.

“Mine,” he growled, panting against your neck. “All fucking mine now.”

You whimpered, voice gone, throat raw from moaning. Every little twitch of your hips made the knot drag against your walls, sent a fresh wave of overstimulation crashing through your core.

His hand slid between your legs, fingers rubbing your clit in lazy, tight circles.

“Still shaking?” he murmured. “Still hungry for more?”

You gasped, squirming. “I—I can’t—”

“Yes you can.” He kissed the corner of your mouth, slow and sticky-sweet. “You’re taking it so well. You were made to be knotted, weren’t you? Fucking bred for it.”

Your cunt clenched around him hard, and he grinned, feral.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “There it is.”

You buried your face in his neck, body twitching as another orgasm rolled over you—smaller this time, but no less intense. Just the stretch, the fullness, the locked sensation of being tied to him had your nerves singing, pleasure raw and messy in your belly.

You could feel his cum leaking out, hot and thick, dripping down your ass even with the knot sealing most of it inside.

“Fuck…” you slurred. “I feel like I’m gonna burst.”

He chuckled darkly, brushing sweat-matted hair from your face. “You’re doing perfect. You’re not going anywhere now.”

You whimpered, hips twitching helplessly.

He rocked into you again—slow this time, shallow little pulses of his hips that made you whine, your body too sensitive to handle it.

And he was still hard.

Still inside.

Still not done.

“I’ll give you a break,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “But just know… we’re not finished. My rut’s just getting started.”

You shivered beneath him, overwhelmed, overstretched, and somehow still wanting.

Still his.

Still full.

And knotted tight.

part two

[kxsagi]

HEYY I LOVED bllk characters when their gf says they'll sleep on the couch after an argument fanfic can you write about when u tell bllk boys to sleep on the couch after an argumenttttt

Feel free to ignore<3

“𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 😭”

a/n: thank you!!! post where gf! reader says she’ll sleep on the couch is here

ft. itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, karasu tabito, ness alexis, otoya eita, aiku oliver

itoshi rin

"sleep on the couch." 

he just blinks. you could tell him to sleep on a battlefield and he’d still look at you with the same amount of passive aggression. 

“fine.” 

but that night? loudest passive aggressive sighs ever. every three minutes. 

you hear him dramatically shifting the blanket like he’s trying to fold a parachute. 

he keeps walking back and forth to the kitchen so you see him being miserable. 

eventually stands by the door like a sad victorian ghost until you break and call him back in. 

“i knew you’d miss me.” 

you throw a pillow at him and he smiles. 

isagi yoichi

you say it and this man is like 🧍 “... really?” 

tries to reason with you like it’s a team huddle. 

“okay i know i messed up but can we have a second half? maybe a redo? golden goal?” 

ends up quietly walking to the couch like he’s been benched. 

lays there with his arms crossed like he’s been wrongfully imprisoned. 

keeps refreshing your shared photos on his phone like it's going to heal him. 

the second you walk out for water, he gives you the biggest puppy eyes. 

you sigh and drag him back, and he’s like “thanks love, i was gonna get a cramp i swear.” 

itoshi sae

you tell him to sleep on the couch and he just shrugs. 

"kinda comfier anyway." 

oh. OH. you are fuming. 

he absolutely does it on purpose to make you more annoyed. 

but lowkey he's checking the bedroom door every five minutes to see if you'll come out. 

eventually sends you a text from the living room like: "come argue with me again. i miss your face when you're mad." 

you don’t respond. 

20 minutes later he peeks into the room, lays half of his body on the bed like a cat, and goes: “what if we… didn’t fight and made out instead?”

kaiser michael

"sleep on the couch." 

"haha. that's cute. you're joking." 

when you glare, he laughs, nervously. 

he starts walking toward the couch like he's headed to the electric chair. 

dramatically flops down, limbs splayed like a fallen protagonist. 

“i hope you're happy. you've separated a king from his throne.” 

texts you from ten feet away: "thinking of you. missing you. dying slowly. xoxo." 

at 3 AM, you wake up to find him curled up by the door like a golden retriever. 

“schatz, this floor is emotional torture. please.” 

mikage reo

he actually looks offended that you’d even suggest it. 

“me? on the couch? do you know how many beds i own?” 

but still does it with a dramatic sigh and a blanket over his head like a sulky prince. 

orders room service to the living room like he's at a hotel. 

sends you snapchats from the couch: "me, alone, heartbroken, eating soufflé." 

at 2 AM, he's in bed with you again like nothing happened. 

“sorry. i had a nightmare that you hated me. oh wait.” 

nagi seishiro

"... do i have to?" 

pouts like a child. lays on the couch with a big sigh, blanket halfway on, limbs dangling. 

sleeps for five minutes. comes back and lays next to the bed like a cat. 

mumbles something like, “if i’m close enough, it still counts, right?” 

you cave after ten minutes and pat the bed. 

he flops in without a word and wraps himself around you. 

“arguments suck. sleep is better.” 

shidou ryusei

laughs when you tell him. 

“damn, so i really pissed you off, huh? you sound kinda hot when you're angry.” 

does not go to the couch. 

instead, lays down on the floor beside the bed. 

“i’ll sleep here. like a punished puppy. see if you can resist this tragic scene.” 

at some point, starts fake-snoring obnoxiously loud on purpose. 

“babe i’m gonna get scoliosis. let me in.” 

you hit him with a pillow, but he grins. 

and ends up in the bed anyway, arms and legs wrapped around you like a koala. 

bachira meguru

gasps like you slapped him. 

“not the COUCH!! my mortal enemy!!!” 

drags himself there like he’s acting out a shakespearean tragedy. 

sends you dramatic selfies with captions like "farewell, cruel bedroom." 

makes a blanket fort and names it “meguru’s heartbreak castle.” 

sings sad songs until you peek out. 

“oh look! my favorite person! wanna join my castle of sorrow?” 

you roll your eyes but smile, and you end up under the couch fort with him, cuddled up and giggling. 

karasu tabito

you say “sleep on the couch” and he just stares at you for a second. 

then dramatically clutches his chest like “ouch. my favorite girl just assassinated me.” 

“how am i supposed to live, laugh, love in these conditions?” 

makes a whole production of walking to the couch. robe on, hood up, slippers squeaking. 

literally throws himself on it with a groan. “RIP karasu tabito, died of neglect.” 

keeps loudly fake-crying into a pillow like he’s in a telenovela until you yell at him to shut up. 

immediately perks up: “you miss me?” 

crawls back to bed and goes “thanks babe, i hated that.” 

ness alexis

freezes. short-circuits. like you just said the world’s most horrible sentence. 

“... the couch?” with puppy eyes. 

starts trying to fix things IMMEDIATELY. pulling out tea, snacks, compliments, an apology powerpoint. 

“i didn’t mean it like that. you’re always right. even when you’re wrong, you’re right.” 

but when he realizes you’re serious, he grabs a pillow and makes a little sad pile on the couch. 

“it’s okay… i deserve this…” (said in a sniffly mouse voice). 

you check on him and he’s sitting upright, staring into space like he’s been emotionally waterboarded. 

you give in after 20 minutes. he doesn’t even smirk, he just clings to you with teary eyes like “never again please.” 

otoya eita

“couch? oh baby, you’re kicking me out again? kinky.” 

you glare. he holds his hands up, backing off, still grinning. 

flops dramatically on the couch with the energy of a rom-com male lead post-breakup. 

“what are you gonna do without me over there? miss me? dream of me?” 

still manages to flirt from across the apartment. texts you: “thinking about you. and your legs. mostly your legs.” 

ends up sweet-talking his way back into bed by whispering apologies and kissing your hand like some tragic prince. 

“c’mon, i learned my lesson. also, the couch is bad for my back. and my heart.” 

aiku oliver

laughs when you tell him. “damn, you’re really mad, huh?” 

goes along with it, but not without a fight. 

“you sure you’ll be able to sleep without your personal heater slash bodyguard slash boyfriend?” 

turns the living room into a man cave. turns on soccer replays. 

but when he realizes you’re actually not coming out, he shuts everything off and just lays there in silence like a sad old man. 

eventually walks back in, shirtless, arms crossed: “look. this is stupid. i’d rather be next to you than be right.” 

and you’re like “whoa whoa since when are you mature?” 

he grins, climbs back in, and mumbles into your neck: “just for you.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

Boy talk

Boys discuss who they find attractive and Bakugo lets slip he thinks you’re slightly less irritating than the others, so denki just HAS to let you know

After a particularly strenuous training day, you head back to your dorm to flop on your bed and pass out, but as you walk towards the communal kitchen you hear denki, sero and katsuki all chatting. After denki let out a roar of laughter, you decide to linger back slightly to see what they were joking about. You cling to the wall and perk your ears up, trying to decipher their murmurs behind the shrieks of laughter.

“So, Bakugo, who’ve you got the hots for then?” Denki quizzes as he pushes katsukis arm playfully.

“Bakugo doesn’t notice girls man cmon!” Sero jokes, pushing denki away from him.

“Im not blind. I might not see those extras as worth my time, but I do notice them.” Stern, with no infliction, if he wasn’t screaming in someone’s face, he had a very stoic tone about his voice.

“Oh cmon man! You can’t say you haven’t looked at Momos boobs at least once right? Or Ochaco suit clinging to her ass? Damn even froppy’s ass is good…” Bakugo fires a blast at denkis head.

“Shut up. Of course I’ve noticed but I don’t really care about that, I just wanna make sure I’m the best. You can see boobs anywhere, it doesn’t phase me.” You can hear his footsteps walk towards you as he’s about to leave the kitchen, before sero gets his attention and he stops in his tracks.

“What about y/n? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her boobs NOT bounce when she walks. And when she uses her quick? Hell, I think I’d welcome her putting me to sleep if it meant I got to rest my head on the….” Before he can finish his sentence, he starts to squeal, Bakugo clearly blasted him.

“Don’t speak about her like this.” Bakugo growls, you can almost feel the heat from his crimson eyes staring into the guys. “She’s cool, leave her out of this.”

“Oooooooh someone’s got a crush! So you DO feel human emotions like the rest of us…..so, you like what y/ns got going on then hey man….” Denki teases, throwing a cup of water over sero to cool him down.

“Fuck off. I didn’t say I fancied her, I said she was cool. Grow up you extra.” You hear Bakugos footsteps continue to advance towards where you were hiding, you take a few steps back and then continue forward as if you were already walking this way, looking down at your phone as you bump into Bakugos chest abruptly.

“Shit sorry! Need to watch where im going….” You huff, flashing a smile at him as if you hadn’t just heard somewhat of a confession that he finds you slightly less irritating than the others.

“Watch where you’re going idiot!” He would usually blast anyone who touched him, accidental or not, but instead he put his arms on your shoulders forcing your arms tightly to your sides, picked you up and moved you out of his way. You glanced over to denki and sero laughing in the kitchen as he plonked you down and continued to walk away. As you started to walk towards your dorm, you hear denki shout for you,

“Yo! Y/N wait up! I’ve got something interesting to tell you.” As soon as you hear him excitedly shout this to you across the kitchen, you suddenly hear a massive explosion, and turn to see Bakugo stood by the door of the building, smoke encapsulating him. You can just about make out his life ending stare peak through the smoke veil, before hearing him mutter in a dark, low tone “Denki I swear to fucking god.”

Denki rushes to you, grabs your arm and pulls you alongside him to your dorm. As you’re both running, you can hear Bakugo take flight as he flies towards the both of you, cussing and shooting short flash bursts to up his speed. You reach your dorm and denki shoves you in, slams the door behind him and pushes himself up against the door, trying his best to be a blockade so Bakugo can’t explode the door down.

“He likes you! He freakin’ likes you man!” The excitement in his voice, only lessened by the worry that he’ll be killed for telling you this. Your cheeks flush pink as you stumble back and sit on your bed. The devil incarnated likes you? Surely not….

“Wait are you sure?! I didn’t think he liked anyone like that, didnt think he could….” Suddenly you’re interrupted as Bakugo kicks your door clean off his hinges, and denki becomes flattened by the frame. He steps over it as you hear denki screech from under Bakugos weight.

“So. You think I like you huh?” He stares down at you, the intensity makes you desperately want to look away, feeling like a kid being told off by their parents. You hold the intense eye contact,

“Denki was joking around that you liked me but I knew….” He interrupts you.

“Well, guess you know now. Meet me outside at 8. Wear something warm, I don’t wanna have to be your blanket all night.” He turns and leaves, leaving you godsmacked that not only did he admit that he did indeed like you, but he actually asked you out on a date…well, asked is a generous over assumption, it was more of an order.

As you stay sat, stunned at what just happened, sero comes running in and helps denki up,

“Did you do this?! I thought your quirk was a mist thing, i didnt think you could break your own damn door down!” He clambers to pick denki up, who seemed winded but otherwise fine.

“No no, it was Bakugo….i told y/n he likes her and he nearly killed me, but…..he then asked her out on a date!” The confusion between the three of us could’ve been cut with a knife, all staring between each other, then sero let out a slight laugh,

“Guess he really is a guy.”

[dragonsondragons]

Self Care - Jack Abbot x Resident!Reader

Summary: Jack’s new girlfriend takes self care really seriously given the line of work they’re in. He starts to observe these habits and some of them rub off on him.

Tags: Super fluffy, no use of y/n, implied age gap, suggested sexual activity, no real smut just Jack feeling you up a little, beekeeper!Jack

Author’s Note: Why am I obsessed with beekeeper!jack. There may be more where this came from because I had so much fun with this one– perhaps Jack and reader gardening (wink wink) while in their garden? Leads to sweet and slow stoned sex? Let me know what you think or if you have any requests! I’m always looking for more ideas. 

You do your little stretching routine after you wake up and you ask him if he wants to join you. He gives it a try, reluctantly at first. Then he starts to realize how good it makes him feel and does it with you every time. 

“What's this pep in your step you got going on here, brother?” Robby notices one day at hand-off. “Something to do with your favorite resident? Or should I say…new lady friend,” he does a little jazz hands.

“I regret ever telling you about us,” Jack rolls his eyes at lady friend. “But yeah, actually. She’s got me stretching when we wake up,” he explains.

“Ah. She’s got you whipped is what you mean.”

Jack chuckles under his breath. “Fuck off, stretching is good for you. And being whipped isn’t so bad either.” ____

You have a little garden that you tend to in the morning as the sun’s still rising right when you get off shift. It's cathartic, to take care of something that can't puke or bleed on you. Can’t punch you in the face. 

Both you and Jack had worked last night and it was a tough one. One of those nights where it felt like you lost more than you saved. You asked Jack to come back to your place after the shift ended, just wanting to be near him after your hell of a day. 

It was still early in your relationship, you had only spent the night at Jack’s place. This was his first time coming to stay at yours. 

You could tell he was so exhausted that you offered to drive home and he eventually accepted. He sat in the passenger seat of his Tacoma with his eyes closed as you drove, envisioning a shower, you looking soft in a ratty old t-shirt, and eating take out on the couch before going to sleep.

Instead, after you made two mugs of tea and set one before him on the coffee table, you headed to the backyard, slipping through the sliding glass door with a quiet “be right back, have to take care of some stuff real quick.”

After you’re gone more than 10 minutes and he almost dozed off twice, he started to wonder what this stuff was. He peeks out the glass door, seeing you knelt down at the edge of a garden bed peeling weeds out of the ground around your plants. The garden hose was on, filling up a big watering can to your left.

He comes to stand next to your kneeling form, placing a tender hand on the crown of your head and lightly running his fingers through your hair. “What are you doing, baby?”

“Checking on the plants. It helps me clear my mind from the day.” You smile softly up at him, see his free hand rub at his weary eyes. “Why don’t you go hop in the shower, I’ll be right in," you promise. He nods, turns to head back inside. 

He couldn’t believe you wanted to be pulling weeds and lugging watering cans after a shift. But when you trailed in a few minutes later, joining him under the spray of the water, he could see the way your shoulders were looser. You were more peaceful, at ease. It made him feel more calm too, just knowing you felt a little bit better. 

He started lugging bags of soil for you the following mornings. Dug up trenches to lay a new irrigation system for the crops. This time of spring brought so many birds tweeting around in the morning air, the perfect sound track to your calming moments together in the garden.

It was a peaceful endeavor, one Jack never thought he would find himself doing but turns out he absolutely loves it. After you tell him about the benefits of pollinators he really wants to start keeping bees (Jack Abbot is beekeeping age). He does all this research about it to make sure he doesn’t fuck with the bees, wants to do it right. Gets the whole mesh suit which you can't stop laughing at the first time he puts it on. Names his hive Beetopia. He's serious about these bees and you find it so endearing. You love that he's meshing into your life like this, making his own niche in something you both do together.

Sometimes when there isn’t much to be done he’ll make breakfast while you tend to the garden. He will always try to utilize the fruits and vegetables you grow as well as his self-harvested honey whenever he can. You eat it out on the patio, admiring the work the two of you have done. Your own little paradise. ____

Out of all the self care tactics that you have brought into his life, the bubble bath is definitely one of his sleeper favorites. His house had a huge bathtub in it that he never once used. One of the first times you stayed over, you went to use the bathroom before going to bed. His eyes were already closed when he heard you squeal in the en suite attached to his room. 

“How did you not tell me about this!” you yelled out to him. 

“What, the bathroom?” he responded half asleep and confused. You came back into the room and jumped into the bed next to him, resting your chin on his chest. He peeked his eyes open as he rubbed up and down your back.

“No! That massive tub, genius!” He was surprised. Hadn’t thought once about that thing since he moved in. 

“You like it?”

“I don't like it, Jack. I love it. Baths are so soothing and rejuvenating. I always feel like a newborn baby when I get out of the bath. And I don't have a tub at my place.”

“You’re welcome to use it anytime you want, honey.” He shifted you to your side, cuddling into you and kissing your cheek. 

“You’re too good to me. And as a reward I’m making you get in there with me.” he lets out a breath of a laugh as he drifts off to sleep with you in his arms. ___

You both had the next day off, for once. So there was no time like the present to christen Jack’s bathtub. He was nervous about getting in, not being able to wear his prosthetic to keep him stable, but you got in first and held onto him tight as he stepped over the edge and eased himself down into the water. You settled in front of him, letting out a breath as you melted back into him. 

You thought you liked baths already, but this was pure bliss. His strong body against you, your breaths synching up. He washed your hair and you washed his. The warm water soothed his achy back and the overcompensating muscles in his leg. 

Safe to say, baths become a regular occurrence for you two.

You get him a matching fluffy robe with a hood because one time he said he was jealous of how cozy you looked in yours after a bath. Once, Shen stopped by to drop off the butterfly portable ultrasound that he had borrowed and Jack answered the door in said robe. 

Jack had his stoic work face on, the grumpiness only enhanced by the fact that Shen’s visit was interrupting his time with you.

“Ha, you look like a Sith, Abbot,” Shen teased him, butterfly in one hand and a half drank Dunkin’ in the other. “Robe’d up and about to cut my hand off.” He took a loud sip of his coffee as Jack just glared at him. 

“Get out of here before I actually consider it.” He tugged the Butterfly from Shen’s grasp, about to slam the door in his face. 

“Oh c'mon Jack, that’s not very nice.” You ran up to the door and opened it further to reveal yourself. 

“Sorry John, he didn’t mean that.” 

“Yeah right.” He takes in your appearance beside Jack, wearing the same exact fuzzy robe. “Like the matchy matchy, very cute you two.” Shen pulls out his phone and snaps a picture before either of you could even process it. “That’s totally going in the group chat, dude,” he laughed. 

“Not making a good case for yourself here,” Jack muttered. Shen couldnt stop laughing, and at that you moved your hand off the door jamb and let Jack slam it shut. 

He turned to you then and let out a little chuckle at the whole ordeal. “He’s a piece of work.”

“Thought he was your favorite resident?”

“No, you're my favorite resident.” ___

Besides stretching to start the day on a good note, taking soothing baths, and tending to your garden you also do yoga sometimes to turn your mind off and tune into your body after a hectic shift. He’s still reluctant to try that one, and likes to give you your space to do the things you enjoy on your own sometimes. So he doesn't join you for that, but he loves watching you as you get ready to head to the studio. 

You always wear these skin tight, colorful matching workout sets that drive him crazy. He doesn’t mean to keep you from getting to class, but sometimes he just can’t help the temptation.

“Baby,” he draws it out in a long groan. He crossed the room to you, grabbing your hips and ghosting his hands up and down, reverently. You were trying to gather your keys and yoga mat to head out the door. “You’re killing me here with the powder blue.” The leggings hugged your ass just right. God, he was about to start drooling.

You try to squirm out of his hold to put your shoes on, but he won't budge. “Get a good look, Jack, because I gotta go. Gonna be late if I don't leave right now.” 

“Oh no, you're gonna be late already? Maybe you should just stay here with me,” he pouts suggestively. 

“Already paid for the class. Actually you did, your card’s on the account.” With your resident salary, Jack liked to treat you to things like a membership to a fancy yoga studio with free green smoothies. He loved ‘providing’ for you, even though you both knew you could be just fine by yourself. 

“Even better. I don't care about losing 30 bucks right now. Because you look way too sexy in those leggings to leave me here all alone.” He pecks your lips, then down your neck, sucking the spot where he knows will draw out a moan from you. You grasp your hand into his hair, getting lost in his efforts to entice you. 

“Let me peel these off of you,” he begs, running his fingers under the waistband of the leggings. His hands travel lower, kneading at your ass and pulling you tighter against him. “Just let me worship your beautiful body, sweetheart.”

How could you say no to that? Maybe you would miss your class, but this was a form of self care as good as any.

[nerdycheol]

All I Ask || J.W.W

🥀pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader

🥀genre: angst, unrequited feelings(?), lmk if I missed anything

🥀wc: 785

summary: you've been love with your friend Wonwoo for a long time, but what do you do when he comes to your door the night before his wedding

(a/n): reposting this cuz tumblr flagged my content for no reason :|

^^ dividers by @strangergraphics

You’re brushing your teeth when he knocks.

Not a text, not a call–a knock.

It’s nearly midnight, the night before his wedding, and the last person you expect to see when you open the door is Jeon Wonwoo. Hair slightly tousled. Tie undone. Eyes red-rimmed and tired.

“Hey,” he says, like it’s any other night.

You blink. “Wonwoo... what are you doing here?”

He shifts on his feet, glancing down the hall. “Can I come in?”

You step back before your brain catches up.

He walks in like muscle memory. Drops his keys on the little dish by the door, shrugs off his jacket, toeing off his dress shoes in the corner–like he’s done a hundred times before. But this time, everything is different. This time, he's getting married in less than twelve hours.

You stand frozen, toothbrush still in hand. “You know what time it is?”

He gives a half-laugh. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Wonwoo…”

“I just needed to see you,” he says quietly.

That shuts you up.

You return to the bathroom to rinse out your mouth and buy yourself thirty seconds of composure. When you come back, he’s seated on your couch, staring at the photo on your shelf–the two of you in college, mid-laugh, arms around each other, before either of you knew what heartbreak felt like.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he says.

You don’t disagree.

But you don’t ask him to leave either.

You pour two glasses of wine and sit beside him. Close, but not touching.

“I rehearsed vows today,” he says. “In front of her family. My family.”

You nod. You saw the photos on social media. He looked happy. Happy enough.

“She’s great,” you say.

“...she is.”

You take a sip of your wine.

The silence grows heavy, like a storm threatening to break.

Wonwoo shifts, facing you now. “Do you ever think about it?”

Your fingers still around the glass. “About what?”

“Us.”

Your breath catches.

You’ve buried that answer a thousand times. But tonight? Tonight, everything feels raw and unfiltered.

“Yeah,” you admit. “More than I should.”

He nods slowly, like he’s relieved you said it first. “I thought I could get over it. I thought... marrying someone else would make it easier.”

Your heart pounds.

“Did you love me?” you ask.

“I still do.”

The words hit harder than they should.

You whisper, “Then why her?”

He exhales, hands gripping his knees. “Because with her, it was easy. It was never complicated or scary. You and I… it always felt like a cliff I was too afraid to jump off.”

You try to laugh, but it sounds like a sob. “So you picked safety.”

He looks at you then, like it’s the last time he’ll ever be allowed to. “I picked someone I thought I could live with. But I keep thinking about the one person I might not be able to live without.”

Your chest tightens. It’s too late for this. It’s always been too late.

He swallows hard. “Just for tonight… can I stay?”

You should say no. You should throw him out and tell him to go back to the life he chose.

Instead, you say, “Okay.”

You leave the wine glasses on the coffee table.

When he follows you into the bedroom, you don’t ask questions. You lie down in silence. He hesitates at the edge of the bed–until you reach for his hand.

He exhales shakily and climbs in beside you.

There’s no kissing. No rush. Just the quiet slide of limbs under blankets, the slow exhale of breath when his arms wrap around your waist. The press of his chest against your back. The warmth you’ve had for years, though you never truly had it.

His voice is a whisper in the dark.

“I’m sorry.”

You close your eyes.

“I know,” you say. “Me too.”

You wake up alone.

The space beside you is still warm, but the sheets are undisturbed. There’s a folded blanket at the foot of the bed. The glasses–washed and set aside.

No note. No message. No goodbye.

Just the quiet hum of a city morning and the knowledge that, by the end of the day, he’ll belong to someone else.

You sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your hands like they’re foreign.

You gave him your heart years ago–he only borrowed it tonight.

The tears come slowly. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just quiet, inevitable drops that slide down your cheeks and into the collar of the hoodie you forgot you were wearing–his hoodie.

You don’t stop them. You don’t chase him.

You just let it happen. Like everything else.

Because he didn’t choose you.

And you didn’t stop him.

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[inmyheaddd]

tangled in love, stuck by you - grayson hawthorne x reader

summary: slow mornings with grayson !! bits of playful banter and grayson being an annyoying loveable tease warnings: nothing just fluff !! probably too much ur teeth may fall out wc: 1.6k

he woke up at 5:30. you woke up in his shirt. 

you were aware of the alarm, but you kept your eyes shut and kept your head on grayson’s chest. you tried to ignore the noise and continue sleeping, but it was proving very difficult.

like always, you were expecting him to gently lift your arm off of him, get out of bed as silently as he could to not wake you, and press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. every week day.

then… with a soft exhale grayson lifted his arm, and surprisingly enough, only moved the slightest bit to turn the alarm off. 

despite his minimal stirring and attempts to not disturb the moment of peace between you, you sat up just as he turned the alarm off. 

lifting your head off of his chest while rubbing your eyes, you mumbled, “god… what time is it?”

“half past 5,” grayson was quick to smooth a hand over your hair, beckoning you back. “but that doesn’t matter. come back to sleep, sweetheart.”

you hummed, and you didn’t go back to sleep. 

you barely even registered his words — you realized you were clearly not a morning person — and you sat up fully in your drowsy state, slowly blinked, then looked down at your watch and saw the way-too-early time. “shit,” you mumbled, “don’t you have to go?” 

“no,” he answered, “ i don’t particularly … care right now,”, his voice was gravelly and still laced with sleep. then, he tried one last time to get your head back on his chest and linger in this moment of serenity for a little while longer. 

you hummed contently in answer, then purposefully put your head on the pillow next to his instead. “that’s a lie.” you smiled sleepily as you lay on your side, “you care about everything ever.”

“not everything,” you two were laying on your sides face to face, and grayson smiled back at you— that type of smile that was just the barest upwards flicker of his lips. “only a select few that matter.” 

“yeah?” you prodded teasingly, a dry chuckle leaving your lips, “like what?”

you adjusted the way you were laying down, putting your hand under your face, and it seemed that his gaze never tore off you. 

“you.” he answered simply, his grey eyes boring into yours with a sort of comforting intensity. 

“and here i was,” you let your lips by break into a grin, “thinking you were going to say your suits.”

graysons lips slid into a teasing, full smile. “oh, i was just getting to them, don’t you worry.” 

you managed an eye roll, but the fake look of annoyance dissipated into a laugh, which was soon shared by him too.

after another second of looking at each other,  a tired, amused scoff left your lips   before turning onto your back and looking at the ceiling. “you should probably wake up. i should probably wake up.” 

grayson moved closer to you, moving up so his chin rested atop your head. “we’re awake,” he murmured. 

“yeah,” a laugh escaped you as you turned to lay on your side, “barely.” 

you adjusted the way you lay, so you and grayson were face to face once again. 

he looked at you with an odd softness in his eyes— or maybe it was the sunlight streaming through the curtains that made him look soft. 

either way, you felt like you couldn’t look away. “hi,” the word escaped your lips, a mere murmur. there was a small smile growing on your lips. 

“hi,” he echoed, tiredness and some sort of amusement laced in his voice.  

you looked at each other for another moment, his gaze every so delicately trailing over your face, like he was trying to memorize the details — you recognized the look, because you felt yourself doing the same when you looked at him. 

regardless, you have never felt butterflies erupt in your stomach faster. 

“okay,” you laughed a little at absurdity of the moment, “thats it, i’m getting up now.” you pushed yourself up with an exhale, and made your way to the bathroom a few feet away. 

you stopped at the door, turned around and looked at grayson who was still in bed. 

he was propped up on his elbows, watching you make your way to the bathroom with that same little look in his eyes. 

“what are you looking at?” you tilted your head, wondering what had him looking at you like that, all silent.

he narrowed his eyes jokingly back at you, before answering. “happy,  that’s all.” 

now your eyes were narrowing, your laugh threatening to spill through your words. “what,” a slight shake of your head, “happy you’re sleeping in?” 

his lips turned downwards in consideration of your answer with a small shrug, “i suppose, yes.” his smile was borderline teasing now, “among other reasons.”

his head tilted slightly, shooting you a gryou’re so corny.”

grayson shrugged, running a hand through his messy morning hair that you adored and then looking at you with a lazy smile. “if that’s what you’d like to call me, so be it.” so long as it’s coming from you.”

you realized your face was heating up, “you’re only proving my point,” you laughed, and then you huffed when you realised grayson’s smile only widened. 

“i need to shower,” you put a hand on the door handle, taking a slow step back, “i’ll just be a few minutes.” 

────୨ৎ────

a few minutes turned out to be an hour. 

when you left the shower, grayson was already downstairs by then, changed into brown trousers and white linen shirt with the few top buttons undone lazily— but nothing looked lazy about it. 

you slid into a chair at the small table that sat in kitchen, two seats, just for you two, as you muttered your good mornings to each other.

“oh gray, you know, my shower was the best ever,” you sighed as you shut your eyes for a moment, holding your face in your hands. 

you heard grayson hum in response for you to go on, flipping a pancake as he did so. 

you opened your eyes and looked at his back, in some sort of admiration-trance as he cooked your pancakes, then you finally began rambling. 

“well, the water was boiling, and there was so much steam; it felt like i was about to fall asleep in the best way.” you kept talking with your face laying in your hands, then when you finished, you sat up straight and brought your cup of water to your lips.

“perhaps, you might have truly fallen asleep,” he started, then turning to you as he placed a plate of pancakes on the table, “seeing as you took took so long.” 

“oh. very funny.” you jokingly glared at him, not taking your eyes off of him as you finished your drink and put the cup down. you laughed despite yourself, “stop acting like your showers aren’t either 2 minutes or 2 hours long.” 

grayson pulled his chair out and sat in the seat across you, laughing quietly. he said, “2 hours is quite the stretch. maybe 1 and a half seems more fitting.”

“i was being very graceful with 2 hours, actually.” you retorted, raising your brows. 

“and i am very lucky to be receiving of that grace from you.” 

grayson leaned back in his chair, reaching lazily for his coffee as he gave you a once-over — not flirtatious, just quietly content. it reminded you of that look he’d given you before you got in the shower.

you glanced at him as you brought your coffee mug to your lips. the corners of your eyes crinkled, “okay, what are you looking at now?”

“i’m thinking about how i like my mornings better when you’re in them.” he said earnestly, without really answering your question as he looked away to stir his coffee. 

you were just about to respond with something heartfelt, then he took his gaze up to you. he made an act of looking at his watch, “even if they start late.”

you glared at him an unamusedly. though,  the flush you felt from his first comment was still creeping up on your face. 

you huffed in what you hoped looked like annoyance, then bit back a smile. “just shut up eat your pancakes already.”

grayson smiled at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling also. “right. of course,” he cut a piece of his pancake, then brought his fork to his mouth as he looked at you, amusement in his features.

you rolled your eyes jokingly. he shut up. he ate his pancakes. 

“even if they start late,” you mimicked in a high pitched voice under your breath, cutting your pancakes into pieces, “he says at 7 in the morning,” you added snappily, murmuring absentmindedly to yourself as you cut your pancakes into even smaller pieces. 

the plate you were staring at did not reply. 

you huffed, then brought your fork to your mouth and finally looked up at grayson.

he was looking at you silently, holding back what seemed to be a huge laugh. 

his eyes slightly crinkled around the corners and his lips pressed together in an attempt to hold his smile back. and the second you made eye contact— your fork still in the air, you both burst into laughter. 

you set your fork down, trying to compose yourself before you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.

“surely,” grayson managed, his words coming through a chuckle. “i don’t sound like that,” he furrowed his brows, pointing a finger at you

“oh,” you laughed at him, finally picking the  fork you’d abandoned up again, and pointing at him with it, “but you really do.”

quiet laughter and chatter filled the living room as you finished your breakfast together, back and forth playful banter and stories randomly popping into your mind as the morning went on. 

by the time you were both putting the dishes away, your face nearly hurt from laughing so much. 

you weren’t a morning person, but you realized you definitely liked mornings better with grayson in them.

a/n: sorry ive been soooo m.i.a with the fics recently!! buuuut summer is soon so hopefully that'll change because i miss writing fics

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable@anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm @goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington @peppapigsposts @thoughtdaughter3 @apollospoem@jjsblueberry @yayyy-insecurities

[skzstarl0ver]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Lee know x reader / grump x sunshine / roomates to lovers / smut (a bit fluff)

**involves!!** sex, dirty talk, tension, strong language, detailed smut part, cursing, eating out

enjoy xx (open for request)

★.•☆•.★★.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★ skzstarl0ver ★⡀.•☆•.★⡀.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★

You always joked that Minho was a cat in a man's body. Aloof, picky, fond of sunlight but only if it wasn’t too warm. He could spend an entire day curled up in bed and then complain about being restless. And of course, he'd swat at your affection like it was some offense to his dignity.

But he never actually asked you to stop.

“You’re too cheerful,” he muttered that morning, as you danced into the kitchen humming a summer pop song, barefoot and in your oversized shirt. His hair was a mess, eyes puffy from sleep.

“Good morning to you too, Grumpasaurus,” you chirped, sliding a mug of coffee toward him.

His fingers brushed yours as he took it. He didn’t look up. “What did I say about nicknames?”

“You hate them. So I use them to test your patience. You’re welcome.”

That earned you a twitch of a smirk — the closest you usually got to a real smile before noon.

You'd been living with Minho for over a year. It started as a convenience thing. Two dancers in the same company, both single, both used to erratic schedules. You weren’t best friends, but he let you in more than most — in his own quiet, snarky way.

Still, lately, the air between you had started to change.

Like last week when you came home tipsy, collapsing onto the couch in a giggly heap. You asked him to dance with you, and he’d said no — then surprised you by actually grabbing your waist and moving with you. Not teasing. Not joking. Just eyes locked with yours in the low light, chest brushing yours, and his grip firm.

He didn’t say anything after that night.

But he also didn’t avoid you.

_

It was a rainy Friday when everything finally snapped.

You were both off that night. You’d ordered takeout, queued up a rom-com, and were currently poking Minho with your toes on the couch, trying to get him to laugh.

He grumbled, shifting. “If you keep touching me, you’ll regret it.”

“Oh no,” you gasped in mock terror, scooting closer, “is the grump going to unleash his wrath?”

“Try me.”

You paused. The tone was different.

So was the look in his eyes — darker, unreadable.

And when you leaned forward to press your forehead against his, expecting a playful shove, he didn’t move.

Instead, his voice dropped. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Act like I don’t want you.”

The words froze you.

He licked his lips, jaw tight. “You flirt. You tease. You climb into my space and act like you don’t know what it does to me.”

“…Minho…”

He surged forward and kissed you. Hard.

It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t testing the waters. It was weeks — months — of tension breaking like a wave. His hands slid into your hair, tilting your head just right, mouth moving with heat and need. You gasped, and he took the opening, tongue slipping against yours, slow and hungry.

When you finally broke for air, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”

You swallowed. “Then stop pretending.”

He pulled you into his lap, straddling him, your knees on either side of his hips. You could feel him — already hard, straining against his sweats. Your shirt rode up as his hands explored your thighs, slow and possessive.

“You always wear this shirt around me,” he murmured, tugging at the hem. “Do you know what that does to me?”

You rolled your hips, grinding against him. “Show me.”

That was all the permission he needed.

He lifted your shirt, baring your skin inch by inch. His eyes devoured you, pupils blown wide, hands reverent as they cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you moaned.

“Lie back,” he growled.

You slid down onto the couch, legs parted, breath quick. He kissed down your stomach, eyes locked on yours the entire time, like he was drinking you in.

Then he peeled off your panties and buried his face between your thighs.

The first lick was slow — deliberate — tasting you with the patience of a man who’d thought about this too many times to rush. Then another, firmer, tongue pressing flat against your clit. You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked and licked, building you up with maddening precision.

“You’re so wet,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to speak. “All that sunshine. All mine.”

You barely had time to beg before he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right as his mouth returned to your clit. You came with a shudder, thighs clenching around his head, voice breaking on his name.

He didn’t stop. Not until you were gasping, trembling.

Then he kissed you — open-mouthed, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

“Your turn,” you whispered.

But he was already undoing his pants, and your eyes widened.

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” he said, voice rough. “I’m not gonna last if you do that.”

“Then don’t hold back.”

He slid inside you slowly, inch by inch, both of you groaning at the stretch. He filled you completely — the kind of full that made your head spin. He held still, trembling with restraint.

You cupped his cheek. “Minho. Move.”

He did. Hard and deep.

He set a rhythm that was all-consuming — slow enough to feel every thrust, fast enough to make you dizzy. His mouth found yours between gasps, hips snapping, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the quiet room.

When you clenched around him, his breath caught.

“You close again?”

You nodded, barely coherent.

He reached down, thumb circling your clit just as he thrust deep one last time. You shattered beneath him, and he followed with a hoarse cry, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you.

You lay tangled together, the room filled with the soft patter of rain.

Minho brushed your hair from your face. His usual scowl was softened — unreadable in a new way.

“You’re still a grump,” you whispered.

He kissed your forehead. “Only for everyone else.”

[hedwig221b]

Howdy di Hedwig, any chance you got some sub drop Stiles and aftercare? Would be swell, thanks!

I didn't find a lot, but here's what I have

Even Forbidden Fruits Get Picked by flitterflutterfly

When Stiles’ best friend gets himself bitten by a rogue werewolf, Stiles convinces him to seek aide from the local pack. Stiles tags along, ready to help Scott despite the knowledge that he likely wouldn’t be welcome. After all, Doms rarely ever approved of Stiles and he thought the Hales would be no exception. So he was surprised to find that not only had the rogue seemed to develop some kind of creepy fascination with him, the young alpha wolf, Derek, seemed to want him as well.

Said Sleeping Beauty To The Big Bad Wolf

The guy zeroes in on him with such intense focus that Derek kind of wants to run away, or maybe drown in those eyes, or maybe wrap the guy up in cotton and protect him from everything forever. Instead, wracked with indecision and overstimulation, his brain just shuts off. He doesn't know if he's thankful or mad at it for that, because that just leaves him looking into warm honeyed whiskey eyes which are as wide and inviting and beautiful as the day is young. Cinnamon-spice attraction, tangy lemon curiosity, all wind-swept and coated with wild berries. The smell of him is overwhelming. Considering who he's engaged to, though? The influx of interest on his part is a little worrying and not something Derek wants to trust at all. Laura is wrinkling her nose, at this point. Derek doesn't necessarily blame her. His Mom, however, just gives the guy a sharp look before schooling her expression, standing from her chair at Peter's bedside and saying: "Are you Peter's fiancée?" [Or: The one where Peter is the Beast and Stiles is Sleeping Beauty and Derek is the Big Bad Wolf, only, the Beast is the one sleeping, and all the Big Bad Wolf wants to do is save Sleeping Beauty.]

Do Not Go Gentle by MojoFlower

Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha and Dom, wakes up in a dark cell already housing another captive – a mute, traumatized sub with a cruel collar around his neck. His only goal is to get them both free of their brutal circumstances; but even as he tries to get his young companion home, a bond between them grows. Nothing comes easily: danger and harrowing echoes of their ordeal shadow every step they take.

Tax Evasion by standinginanicedress

Stiles chews on his thumb a bit harder, and for a second he thinks about saying no. He thinks about letting the whole thing go and just going back to his life, the safe and easy way out. He considers just settling for someone who’ll never really get him, some boring guy who touches him the wrong way and buys him flowers sometimes. He’s been doing it for years upon years, now, and really, what’s a little bit longer? And then, what’s the rest of his life? What’s the worst that could happen, he wonders? Trying something is better than not trying at all.

For Your Eyes Only by standinginanicedress

"Are you a fucking psycho? Be honest. Are you sick in the fucking head?” “No,” Derek says. “I’m a rich guy who likes twinks.” “Uh huh,” he doesn’t sound convinced. “You have twenty thousand dollars just lying around waiting to be spent on having cam sex with me?” “I do,” he shrugs. “And then some.” Silence. “You’re rich?” “Yes. I have money. I have an important job. That’s not what we’re talking about. Are you in or out?”

[masterlist link]

[universefcb]

heyyy

an idea finally came to mind, what about Pau x reader were he is not feeling well after the loss against inter so reader does everything to help him, like takes him out on a walk and they have a picnic by the sea, she comforts him and when night comes around she hugs him tight cause he couldn't fall asleep and he sleeps with his face in the crook of her neck??

thank u girll <33

AFTER THE STORM, PAU CUBARSÍ.

→ Summary: You comforting him after the Champions League defeat

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff/Comfort. Romance.

→ Author's note: I'm still sensitive about the loss in the semi-final...

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

You entered the apartment silently. I had already expected to find him there, alone, but the image still tightened his chest: Pau was sitting on the sofa, his face hidden in his hands, his shoulders hunched as if they were carrying the weight of the world. The television was still on and showing highlights of the match. It was cruel.

The Barcelona uniform was thrown over the back of the sofa, crumpled, forgotten. The boots were lying on the floor. And Pau… Pau was destroyed inside.

You approached without making a sound, your heart aching at the sight of someone so used to being strong, now shattered. You sat down next to him, slowly.

“Pau…” he called softly. “Do you want to talk?”

He didn't answer. He just shook his head, keeping his eyes on the floor. His fingers were intertwined, tense, his eyes red—not from crying, but from exhaustion, frustration, pain.

You took a deep breath and stood up.

“Then come with me.”

He looked at you for the first time since he came in, confused, his eyes sunken and tired. You held out your hand.

“Please. Trust me.”

There was a pause, short but full of meaning, until he intertwined your fingers with his and stood up. He didn’t say a word—and he didn’t need to. The simple fact that he had agreed to go out with you was enough.

---

The sky was tinted in shades of gold and orange, the sun slowly hiding behind the sea. You drove to a small, secluded beach, an almost secret corner where few people went at that time. The trunk carried a basket with fresh fruit, juice, some bread, and a soft blanket.

You spread everything out on the sand, arranging it carefully, while he watched in silence. His feet sunk into the sand, his gaze lost on the horizon. You knew him well enough to understand that he was trying to find air in the middle of his own storm.

“Come, sit here with me,” you called, patting the blanket lightly. Pau walked slowly, as if each step still carried the frustration of the night before.

He sat down next to you. You didn’t talk about the game. Or the press. Or broken expectations. Instead, you opened the basket and started offering him pieces of fruit, trying to lighten the mood. Little by little, with light words and disconnected stories, you began to disarm the weight on his face.

And then, he finally spoke:

“You know what hurts the most?” His voice was low, choked. “It’s the feeling that I could have done more. That I failed. That I let everyone down.”

You dropped the glass you were holding and moved a little closer, turning your body to face him.

“Hey…” her hand reached for his, intertwining their fingers lovingly. “You haven’t let anyone down. What you’re feeling right now just proves how much you care. And that’s beautiful, Pau. But you don’t have to carry that weight alone.”

He looked away for a moment, as if fighting against everything he felt. And when he looked back at you, there was something different there. A small crack in that armor he tried so hard to maintain. A desire, perhaps, to allow himself to be taken care of.

You leaned in slowly, brushing your forehead against his.

“I’m here, okay?” he whispered. “With you. For everything.”

His eyes closed for a brief moment, as if he breathed you in. As if your presence was the only rest he knew.

---

Night fell, and the sky was now a blanket of stars. The sound of the waves filled the silence with calm. The blanket was still spread out on the sand, and the two of you lay side by side, in comfortable silence.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, noticing how his eyes wouldn't stop blinking, restless. His shoulders were still tense, his jaw clenched. Pau couldn't turn it off.

“You’re tired. Lie down here,” she said, opening her arms, calling him closer.

He hesitated for a second, but then he gave in. He lay against you, his head in the crook of your neck, his arms around your waist, as if he was allowing himself to collapse there. And you took him in completely.

“I can’t sleep,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin. “My head won’t stop.”

You began to stroke his hair slowly, in a steady rhythm, like someone singing a lullaby.

“It’s okay,” she whispered against his forehead. “I’m here. Just breathe slowly… that’s all. You don’t need to think about anything else right now.”

The minutes passed and you felt his body begin to relax, as if he was finally handing over the weight of the entire day into your hands. His breathing slowed down, became deeper. His fingers were still firmly on your back, as if he was afraid of losing you even in your sleep.

But then… he fell asleep.

There, in your arms, with her face hidden in your neck and her body pressed against yours, as if you were the only certainty after everything that fell apart.

And maybe it really was.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinott @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[musebymidnite]

Imagine 002 —

Sick (Pitiful) Sevika and You

fluff & suggestive themes — men & minors dni

Sevika would be such a baby when she got sick. You’d have to check on her every 10 minutes to make sure she wasn’t having a meltdown in bed. It bothers her so much that she isn’t able to get up and do things like usual, especially things for you. She’d be restless, tossing and turning in the early mornings. Her body rarely being able to find ease or comfort unless you came in to hold her hand and press a cold compress to her forehead.

“You’re going to be fine, my love.” You’d say as you brushed her slightly damp hair back gently. “Just let me take care of things, okay?”

Sevika would groan in protest, but her shortness of breath would only allow her to scoff ever so slightly. Which would then turn into a cough and you’d shake your head gently.

“Open…”

Sevika shook her head. “I don’t need that. I just can sleep it off and”

You would cut her off for the thousandth time that day. “I said open. You won’t get better without medicine.” Your hand cupped under her chin and angled her face up to yours. You could see the pitiful nature in her grey eyes as she wanted to deny you the pleasure of taking care of her for once.

In your free hand would be the small cup of red medicine. You’d raise it up to her lips and parted your lips in demonstration. “Aaa~” you’d chime.

“I’m not a baby.” Sevika complained.

“Then open up and act like a grown up.” Your eyebrow raised and you shot her a smug look. “Or no kisses.”

“No kisses?” She’d repeat to you.

You shook your head in confirmation.

“You’re evil!” Her voice carried in a half hearted shout before another coughing fit. You’d make sure to lean back, grimacing.

“Cover your mouth…wait!” you quickly tipped the medicine into Sevikas mouth and made sure she swallowed it. Sevika made a disgusted noise and slapped the small cup out of your hand.

“You’re sick!”

“How’s your throat now? Still scratchy?” You hummed and stood up from the bed.

A moment paused between the two of you and she squinted. Of course it was better. She wouldn’t ever outwardly admit that though, but you knew it was true by the way she’d settled back under the covers.

“Uh huh…” you laughed softly before squatting down to pick up the tiny cup. “You’re lucky you’re sick. If you smack the cup out of my hand like that again, who knows what punishments I’ll inflict after you’re better.”

Sevika grumbled under her breath and grabbed her pillow. “No kisses?”

Once you stood up straight you looked towards your poor sick girlfriend under a pile of blankets. “I’ll blow you a kiss instead. I don’t know if my mean girl deserves a forehead kiss right now.”

Sevika huffed softly as she watched you blow her a quick kiss. You knew under the blanket her hand reached to catch it. After a moment she rolled to her side and let out a relaxed sound as the medicine worked its magic.

a/n: tbh I’m just trying to push my pitiful/loser vika agenda and I will be heard !! sevika definitely would rather sweat out a fever than take medicine.

A fever you can’t sweat out…not correlated but why is Time to Dance and Lying the best songs on that album…like 🫢

A musebymidnite creation

[kxsagi]

“𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞”

a/n: happy mother’s day to everyone and all their mothers! i thank all your mothers for giving birth to you and especially to all the mothers of blue lock, specifically mrs. isagi, my mother-in-law 🥰 

i also hope that everyone did something for their mother today (if you have one/are on good terms with your mother ofc). i took my mother out to a sushi lunch today and also bought her japanese snacks bc i’m the best daughter ever 😚

ft. itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae, mikage reo, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, kaiser michael, ness alexis

itoshi rin

rin pretends he doesn’t care about holidays but has a secret “mother’s day plan” folder on his phone that he updates monthly. he wakes up early, feeds your son, and lets you sleep in like you’ve never slept before. 

your son is dressed in a tiny suit and brings you a rose (which rin bribed him to do with candy). he says, “mommy is the best” like a little robot and rin melts. 

he quietly makes your favorite meal, sets up a fancy table, and puts on background jazz like he’s hosting a five-star dinner. 

“this is excessive,” you tease. 

“you deserve more.” 

after dinner, you all cuddle up to watch a movie, and he lets your son crawl into his lap even though he complains about being squished. 

later, when you're alone, he says, “you gave me a family. i didn’t know i could be this happy.” 

(he also framed your son’s first scribble of “dad + mom + me” and put it in his locker.) 

isagi yoichi

he’s been planning this day like it’s the final match of the world cup. he's got sticky notes, alarms, and even consulted your pinterest boards. he lets your toddler daughter scribble “happy momy day” with three backwards letters on a giant pink card and swears it's the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

he makes breakfast, which is burnt pancakes with way too much whipped cream, and wakes you up with a tray that wobbles because your daughter keeps grabbing at everything. you fake surprise and he beams like he just won gold. 

“yoichi, you used shaving cream instead of whipped cream.” 

“… i swear i tasted it and it was fine.” 

you spend the day with both of them clinging to you like koalas, and at night, he hands you a scrapbook filled with your baby’s milestones and little notes he wrote to you throughout her first year. 

“thank you for making our house a home. i love you more than football. okay, equal to football.” 

nagi seishiro

you wake up to your daughter giggling and nagi spooning you like a blanket burrito. 

“sei, it’s mother’s day.” 

“mhm. you’re the mom. just chill.” 

his idea of celebrating is you doing absolutely nothing. he takes care of everything, which includes ordering food, letting your daughter cover the living room in glitter, and binge-watching your favorite show with you while braiding your hair. 

he even makes a tower of pillows, declares it your “throne,” and lets your daughter feed you snacks like you’re a queen. 

later, you find a crumpled piece of paper with a drawing of the three of you and a note that says: “thanks for being her player two while i’m afk. love, sei.” 

he won’t say it out loud, but he thinks you’re the coolest woman alive. 

itoshi sae

he’s lowkey emotional about this day, but you wouldn’t know it unless you caught him kissing your daughter’s forehead when she’s asleep. he starts the morning by dressing her in a little red dress and taking her to get flowers. 

“you have to pick the prettiest ones for mama.” 

she picks weeds. he still wraps them in a bow. 

he lets you stay in bed while he makes an omelet that’s… fine. (okay, he ordered from your favorite café and plated it himself.) 

in the afternoon, you all go on a walk while he carries your daughter on his shoulders, pointing at clouds and trying not to smile too much. 

he gifts you a necklace with your daughter’s birthstone and says, “you’re everything she looks up to. and everything i look forward to.” 

then he blushes and acts like he didn’t just say the most romantic thing ever. 

mikage reo

reo turns mother’s day into a full-blown event. you wake up to streamers, a custom cake, and a whole itinerary. 

“9 AM: breakfast in bed. 10 AM: family photoshoot. 12 PM: picnic at the park. 3 PM: massage. 5 PM: spa bath. 7 PM: candlelit dinner.” 

“reo, i just wanted to nap.” 

your son is dressed like a tiny butler. he hands you gifts and says, “this is from me. but dad paid.” 

he spoils you rotten all day, taking photos of everything. your son gets cake all over his face and reo wipes it off with that lovestruck look. 

at night, he says, “you gave me the best gift: our family. i’ll spend the rest of my life giving back to you.” 

you roll your eyes. he kisses your hand dramatically. your son claps. the family is ridiculous and perfect. 

shidou ryusei

you wake up to chaos. your son is standing on the bed yelling, “HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!!” and shidou is throwing heart-shaped confetti around like a lunatic. 

“you are the HOTTEST mom alive!” he says, tackling you with kisses. 

breakfast is cereal with five different toppings, and your son insists on feeding you while shidou records everything like a proud dad from a sitcom. 

he makes matching “MILF & DILF” shirts for you two and drags you to the zoo “because our baby needs to see animals that are as wild as him.” 

you end the day sticky, tired, and full of love. he pulls you close, son asleep between you. 

“you made me a dad. that’s the craziest, most awesome thing anyone’s ever done for me. i love you, mama.” 

then he winks. “wanna make another one?” 

you hit him with a pillow. he considers it foreplay. 

karasu tabito

karasu tries to act cool but is clearly nervous about doing everything right. he lets your daughter draw on his face to “practice makeup for mommy” and walks around with blush and wonky eyeliner all morning. 

he cooks breakfast (surprisingly well), plays spa day with you and your daughter, and even lets her paint his nails. 

“how do i look?” 

“like a man who loves his family,” you say. 

“damn right.” 

in the evening, he plays your favorite songs on a little speaker and dances with you in the living room while your daughter spins around in her pajamas. 

he gives you a letter he wrote: “i never thought i’d be a family man. but then i met you. and now, i can’t imagine a life without our little girl calling you mama.” 

(you definitely cry. he definitely takes a picture.) 

kaiser michael

kaiser wakes you up with a literal trumpet. no, not a metaphor. he hired a guy in a tuxedo to stand at the foot of your bed and blare a “royal mother’s day fanfare.” 

“mihya,” you groan, eyes still shut, “what the hell.” 

he throws rose petals on you like you’re queen cleopatra. “shhh. you’re the goddess of this kingdom.” 

your toddler son is wearing a tiny crown and holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates (which kaiser definitely sampled first). 

the day is full of surprises: a personal chef, a spa treatment at home, a matching set of rings with your son's birthdate engraved, and a slideshow of photos with him narrating dramatically over soft piano music. 

“this woman,” he says over a picture of you giving birth, “conquered the battlefield of motherhood with grace and a whole lot of screaming.” 

later that night, after your son is asleep and the theatrics fade, he wraps you in a hug and murmurs, “you gave me a reason to be better. and i swear, i'll never let our little prince, or his queen, go a day without knowing they're loved.” 

(you pretend not to cry. he kisses your tears anyway.) 

ness alexis

ness starts preparing days in advance. he makes handmade coupons, handcrafts a flower crown, and bakes cookies with your daughter that look… chaotic, but smell divine. 

you wake up to soft music and your daughter whispering, “mama, wake up ~” while ness tiptoes behind her holding breakfast. 

the tray has your favorite tea, little folded napkins, and a heart-shaped pancake with “mama” burned into it (on purpose?). 

he plans a quiet day: a nature walk, a drawing session, and a surprise mini tea party with your daughter and her stuffed animals. 

they all call you “queen mama.” ness is 100% in character. “would milady prefer the rose tea or the enchanted berry blend?” 

when the day winds down, he gives you a letter filled with pressed flowers and little doodles, and in his neatest handwriting, he wrote: “i’ve never felt more loved than watching you hold our daughter. you’re patient, radiant, and somehow even more beautiful than the day i met you. i want her to grow up knowing her mom is magic.” 

he reads it aloud, voice soft, while your daughter snoozes on your chest. (he also drew you as a fairy queen on the back, just because.) 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[katsukis-wifi]

Do You Remember?

☆ katsuki bakugou x f!reader

★ all angst, cheating, hurt/no comfort

☆ warnings: infidelity, gaslighting, conflict, emotional distress, jealousy themes, just a toxic relationship guys lol

★ word count: ~2.9k

  “So, you have nothing better to worry about besides this?” Katsuki scoffed, eyes sharp with disbelief. “I’m not entertaining this shit.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to keep your voice steady as you continued, “It’s just a question. I just… need reassurance. Please, Katsuki.”

He didn’t look away. No shift. No softening. Just steel.

“You had to ask? Then you’re the fucking problem, y/n.”

Your eyes widened, tears brimming. Words gathered at the tip of your tongue, but none made it out.

He stood, his chair scraping harshly against the dining room floor. His plate still half-full.

Your heart dropped with it..

And in that moment, you knew.

“There was–” you hesitated, voice rising as he turned his back to you.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. “There was what, y/n?” His face was twisted with irritation.

You stood up from your seat, “I found someone’s hair. In the bathroom sink.”

Katsuki barked out a short, humorless laugh, rolling his eyes as he turned away again. “It’sprobably fucking yours.”

“It’s not.” You stepped toward him, fists clenched. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not crazy, Katsuki!”

He turned slightly, enough for you to see his face. There was no remorse or guilt—just exhaustion, irritation, and detachment. 

“You’re different,” you said, voice trembling. “I don’t know why, Katsuki. I don’t fucking know why you don’t–”

“You know what, Y/n?” he cut you off, voice sharp. “I don’t need to fucking deal with this. I do everything I fucking can for you, and now I’m the villain? Fucking someone else? That’s where we’re at now?”

Spit flew from his lips as his voice rose, fury bursting out of him like a dam breaking.

“Just say you’re not,” you whispered. “Please. Just say it.”

For a split second, you thought he might. But instead, he grabbed his jacket and muttered, “I’m getting drinks with Kirishima.”

And he left. 

The door clicked shut behind him. The sound echoed in your chest.

You slid to the floor, sobs ripping through your throat while your hand clutched at your chest, as if holding your heart would keep it from falling apart.

It started small; the paperwork excuse, he said it was piling up, said he was sorry, said he didn’t want to stay late–but he had to. And even Katsuki never let work pile up, you shrugged it off.

Then, the kisses stopped. Not gradually. Just…gone. 

He’d shout “see you later,” sometimes wave, but the morning kisses he used to never forget? It vanished.

You noticed the other things too– the ones that once said “I love you” without saying a word.

He stopped plating your food when he made his own.

Stopped leaving the couch to follow you to bed.

The conversations dried up, stripped of their old depth and fire. Even the compliments–those unprompted, quiet ones he used to whisper when you weren’t expecting it– were gone.

But still, how could you accuse the man who gives you everything, who puts a roof over your head and a card in your hand, of cheating?

So, you told yourself it was stress. Burnout. Pressure. That his job was eating him alive. That this was just a rough patch.

You’d signed up for a life with him, after all. You just didn’t know he’d stop living it with you.

You picked yourself up and went to bed, unable to sleep. You just stared at the ceiling, replaying better nights– when he’d crawl into bed and hold you like he never wanted to let go. Now, he rolled away. Silent. Cold.  Minutes turned to hours of you in bed, in the dark, alone with your thoughts.

He came home late. Again.

You were already in bed, but not asleep. Not even close.

As he climbed in next to you, he said nothing. He didn’t touch you, and you were sure he hadn’t even glanced at you. You reached out, fingers grazing his, hopeful.

He pulled his hand away and turned his body from you. Like you were the one who did something wrong.

You must have dozed off at a certain point, because the next thing you heard was Katsuki’s footsteps moving around the shared bedroom.

He was already dressed, showered, and the scent of his cologne drifted through the room. He brushed his teeth loudly in the bathroom, grunting to himself between steps. 

No good morning. No kiss to your forehead like he used to give, not even a glance to see if you were awake yet. 

“I’m leaving,” he called from the hallway. “See ya later.”

The door slammed.

And just like that, he was gone again. Just like every morning.

You stared at the ceiling before sitting up slowly, heart still raw from the night before. You rubbed at your face, trying to gather the strength to move.

But then you saw it – his laptop. Sitting on the desk, still plugged in from when he last used it.

You knew you shouldn’t. You hated snooping – hated what it meant, hated how it made you feel like her, like the paranoid girlfriend he rolled his eyes at.

But… he always kept his texts synced. You used to open it just to find recipes or add things to the shared calendar. No password required.

Until now.

You flipped the lid open. A glowing password box greeted you.

Your heart thudded. Not from being caught – he was long gone – but from what it meant.

He never mentioned changing it. Hadn’t said anything at all.

You tried a guess, the password he told you he used in high school.

Incorrect.

You sat back, staring at the screen. The sound of your own breathing felt loud.

What was he hiding?

Your mind began to race. The strand of hair you found while washing your face flashed in your head. Light brown, long, perfectly straight – not yours. (And certainly not your Bakugou’s.) You hadn’t straightened your hair in weeks. And even if you had, the color didn’t match.

You tried to remember the last time someone had been over.

But there wasn’t one. No one had been here. 

He hated unexpected guests — “We don’t bring people over without checking in first.” His rule. One he’d once snapped about when you let Mina drop by unannounced.

So what changed?

Unless…he brought someone here when you weren’t home.

Your throat tightened.

And for the first time, it really hit you: he was building some separate life – one that you weren’t a part of anymore. 

You let the tears flow freely, slamming the laptop shut before dragging yourself to get ready for the day.

You followed your routine, trying your best to keep Katsuki out of your head. Trying to understand how he could go about his day like you didn’t exist, when all you could think about is him.

The silence hurt. The loneliness pressed in.

So, you texted a friend.

y/n: why is it that coffee and energy drinks make me groggy and not motivated…. how am i supposed to work… shouto: Maybe you have a productivity allergy.

Izuku and Ochaco are joining me for a meal later. You’re free to join.

y/n: yes. i need food and a judgment-free zone asap! Shouto: Done. I’ll let them know you’re joining. 

You smiled faintly and sent a thumbs-up before setting your phone aside. At least someone made space for you.

Katsuki walked through the door about half an hour after you had already gotten home. All attitude and restless energy.

You didn’t even look up or greet him. “Just so you know, I’m grabbing dinner later. Shouto invited me.”

He stiffened in the doorway, tugging his boots off harder than necessary.

“That’s cool,” he said, voice sharp. “You hang around that guy enough, you tryna be his sidekick or something?”

You blinked, “Whatever, Katsuki. I’m heading out soon.”

He scoffed. “You sure do like running to other people when shit’s even slightly inconvenient. I’m here early for once – be grateful for fuck’s sake.”

You stared at him, stunned in place. “What, like you run to Kirishima?”

That made him pause. Just for a second. His jaw flexed.

“Here you fucking go again.”

You crossed your arms, “Oh, it’s not okay when I say it? You don’t like me around my friends, but you disappear with yours, and I’m supposed to be cheesing?”

He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as he turned toward the kitchen. “Whatever. Do what you want.”

But you could tell. His ears were red. His whole body was tense.

He was jealous. Defensive. Uncomfortable. 

Good.

Let him feel it, just for a second. 

The restaurant was mellow and warm, tucked in a quieter part of the city. You sat across from Shouto at a booth near the window, your hands wrapped around a sweating glass of water. 

He was quiet, but that wasn’t unusual. Shouto’s calm with a balm. You were allowed to just exist and not have to explain yourself. 

“So, they didn’t show?” you asked, glancing at your phone again. 

“No. Ochacho texted saying something came up.” He sipped his drink, shrugging. “Izuku said he might come, but not to wait up.”

You nodded, picking at the edge of your napkin. 

“Figures.”

Shouto tilted his head, studying you, “Are you alright?”

You offered a small smile, “I’ve been tired, that’s all. I’m really glad you invited me out, I needed it.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he nodded, returning to his meal. That was another reason you liked hanging out with him. No pressure. No performances. No storm waiting to explode.

The conversation stayed light. You talked about stupid hero gossip, your mutual hatred of team-building seminars, and the bizarre hobbies Shouto picked up in his spare time. By the time you finished eating, your chest felt a little looser. You hadn’t laughed in days, and it felt good to remember what it sounded like. 

“Please, at least split the check with me! I can’t let you pay all the time.”

“I insist. I have the means and I don’t mind-” 

As you two settled the bill, the bell over the door chimed.

Izuku rushed in, out of breath and flustered, looking around until his eyes landed on you. 

“Hey!” he called, jogging over. “Did I miss it all? I ran so late – sorry, guys.”

“That’s okay,” you said. “We were just finishing up.”

He slid into the booth beside Shouto, running a hand through his messy hair. “I thought Ochaco might be here by now.”

“She bailed,” Shouto said simply.

Izuku’s smile faltered for a second, and the look on his face resembled one you knew all too well.

You furrowed your brow, watching the way he fidgeted with his napkin, bouncing his knee under the table. 

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He hesitated, “Y/n, can I… talk to you? Alone?”

Shouto picked up the check and looked at you two before nodding. “I’ll pay. I’ll be outside.”

When he left, Izuku looked down, his voice suddenly quiet. 

“I need to say sorry in advance. I know this is random. But…you and Kacchan have been together a long time, right?”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden question about your relationship. “Yeah… Why?”

He hesitated, then asked, “Do you think Ochaco would ever lie to me?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I mean,” he rushed on, “she’s incredible. I love her, believe me – more than I have words. But lately things have just felt..off. She hides her phone, she gets defensive when I ask where she’s been, and I can always tell when she’s lying to me. And sometimes…” He paused, face twisting in pain. “Sometimes she comes home smelling like the cologne Kacchan uses.”

He stopped. Your stomach dropped. 

“What?”

Izuku blinked, like he hadn’t meant to say that part out loud. “I’m sorry, that’s now how I meant to present this. I just-”

“No, why did you just say that?”

He looked sick. His hands curled into fists on the table. 

“I wasn’t going to say anything. I didn’t want to believe it. But, I started noticing things.” He swallowed. “He changed his passcode, right?”

You nodded slowly, placing your face into your hands.

“She did too.”

The breath caught in your lungs.

“No one else wears that scent, Y/n,” he whispered. “Not like he does.”

Silence slammed into you.

Izuku’s eyes became glassy. His voice broke. 

“I didn’t want to think about it. I kept making excuses. But I saw something on her phone the other day. Some texts. And I didn’t open it, but I know I saw his name.”

Your throat closed. Your mind spun. 

It wasn’t just the hair. The changed passwords. The distance. The weird hours.

It was her. It had been her the whole time.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I just thought you should know. You deserve better.”

You nodded slowly, tears threatening to spill.

“I’m sorry too,” you said eventually. “So do you.”

You picked yourself up, wiping the corners of your eyes. You gave Izuku a small wave goodbye before stepping outside. 

Shouto was standing by the curb with his hands in his pockets, watching the streetlight flicker. He turned when he saw you, and you forced a smile.

“Thanks again for the meal.”

You stepped back inside your apartment. Quiet. Steady.

Katsuki sat on the couch, a half-eaten meal balanced on his lap as something played on the TV. He barely glanced at you before turning his attention back to the screen.

You toed off your shoes slowly, set your keys down gently on the counter with a soft clink.

“I saw Izuku today,” you said quietly. “At dinner.”

Katsuki glanced sideways, chewing slowly, “And you’re telling me why?”

You crossed your arms. Watched him closely while you spoke.

“When’s the last time you spoke to Ochaco?”

He froze. 

It was subtle, but you saw it. The tension in his shoulders. The way the muscles in his jaw twitched. He didn’t even blink.

You could practically hear the static flood his brain.

He didn’t look mad.

He looked caught.

You watched the color drain from his face, eyes flicking to the TV like he might pretend he didn’t hear you. But you’d already seen it– the reaction. The guilt. 

And you both knew where this conversation was going.

“You changed your password,” you continued, stepping closer. “She changed hers, too. Izuku said she came home smelling like another man.”

A pause.

“Like you.” 

Katsuki's fingers tensed around his fork, his expression looking more and more pained.

“He saw your name on her phone,” you added. “Didn’t even have to open the messages. He just knew.”

Your voice trembled as you took a breath, nails digging into your arms.

“I didn’t believe it,” you said. “Not at first. Even when everything started feeling wrong – when you stopped touching me, stopped looking at me. We haven’t had sex in weeks. You barely speak to me unless I speak first. Even when I found that long brown hair in the bathroom…”

You laughed, bitter. “I told myself, ‘That’s not him. He’d never do that.’”

He opened his mouth.

“Don’t,” you snapped, backing away a step. “Don’t you fucking lie to me.”

The TV droned on in the background, but neither of you paid it any mind. The room felt like it was holding its breath. 

So were you.

Katsuki set his plate on the table – slowly. Like he was defusing a bomb.

“You need to listen to me, Y/n,” he said, low and hoarse, “I didn’t mean for it to happen–”

“No!” you cut him off, rage erupting. “No, Katsuki! That’s bullshit! You don’t just accidentally cheat on someone! You don’t just stumble into another woman’s arms and forget who the hell you’re with!”

Your voice was shaking now, your hands trembling at your sides. “And the worst part? You made me feel crazy. You looked me in the face and acted like I was just being paranoid. Like I was overreacting. You told me I was the problem.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks now, hot and furious. 

“You lied to me. You gaslit me. You made me feel like I was being unfair. You told me to stop comparing you to other men. You told me to just trust you.”

He stared at you like he was watching the damage in real time. And he was. Because now the truth was finally out, and there was no taking it back.

“You made me feel like I was tearing us apart,” you said, quieter now. “But it was you. The whole time, it was you.”

A bitter breath left your lungs. “Fuck and it was–” your voice broke again, “-- it was her too. Ochaco. My friend. Your friend’s fiancée. They’re engaged, Katsuki.”

He flinched at that. Visibly. But you didn’t stop.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, standing slowly. “It just– fuck, the shit just happened. I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby. You have to know that.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He froze mid-step.

“You don’t get to call me anything now.”

The silence that followed was absolute. Heavy. Final. Katsuki opened his mouth, but there was nothing left to say.

You wiped your face with your sleeve. Took one look around, then at him.

“I’m leaving tonight,” you said quietly, almost like it was a courtesy.

“Wait–”

“No. I don’t care. I don’t care where you go after this. I don’t care what happens to you and Ochaco. I don’t even care what you have to say.” 

You reached for the door, pausing just long enough to look back.

“But I want you to remember the look on my face tonight, Bakugou.”

He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y/n–”

“I hope you see it every time you try to fall asleep.”

And just like that,

You walked out.

[tryandbehappy]

Not a question, just a comment about the latest episode. I feel like the B&TB storyline is probably not gonna happen now? I say this because I think Rose and the baby will die (based upon them eating the Ketamine cake), which leaves us more with a June-feels-guilt-and-realizes-she's-just-as-bad-as-Nick storyline. I don't like this storyline as much because it feels like it comes from a place of guilt for June rather than a place of love and protection. I really wanted her to save him from an angry mob and to accept him fully without having to kill his wife and baby to come to that realization. I'm also sorta mad that June was fine to just let Nick and Rose eat the cake - as if she didn't care a bit about them. Either way, there is SO MUCH ground to cover in the next 2 episodes and I'm getting worried our Osblaine moments will be super limited. Thoughts??

That’s interesting, let’s talk

1. So, is the Beauty and the Beast parallel off the table now?

Honestly, this is such an interesting question because, yeah at this point, it’s really hard to predict where the writers are taking this. It feels like they’ve already built a solid Beauty and the Beast foundation, that symbolism is clearly there. But where it all leads — who knows?

The one thing that surprised me (and maybe even lowkey reassured me?) is that they didn’t take Nick any further with this arc (I’m not good without her), not yet at least . And maybe that’s for the best.

It doesn’t mean they won’t keep using elements from that storyline though, there are a lot of those.

The main takeaway is: the parallel still exists. Just not sure yet what they’ll do with it next.

2. Will Rose die from the cake and make June feel like she’s just as “bad” as Nick?

I’m not so sure about that either. Like… how would ketamine hurt her if it didn’t really affect anyone else? Just because she’s pregnant? I’m kind of skeptical about this storyline, but okay — maybe they’ll explain it that way.

From a narrative perspective, yeah, it would make sense to get Rose (and the baby) out of the picture. She’s extra baggage for Nick right now, tying him to Gilead and making him less free to move forward. And since we’re heading toward the finale, it feels like we’re getting rid of everything that holds him back.

But honestly? I feel like that “I’m not innocent and good as Nick hinted” arc already happened — in this very same episode. The moment June stabbed Commander Bell in the eye and watched him suffer before he died? That was it.

(But okay, maybe that’s just me as a fangirl seeing what Nick said in literally every one of her reactions.)

And right after that, we saw June turn kinda soft again — going to Aunt Lydia, trying to solve things peacefully, talking instead of killing. So yeah, maybe that monster arc is already complete? I don’t know if they’ll go back to it through Rose’s storyline… it’s possible, but I’m not convinced.

3. June didn’t warn Nick about the drugged cake — does that mean she doesn’t care?

Honestly, I don’t think this was that serious. It was just a sleeping drug — and it didn’t even fully knock Bell out. So it clearly wasn’t dangerous, at least not to him.

What actually stood out to me was how much focus there was on June’s reaction to Nick. It was unreal. Like, if you think about it — this episode wasn’t about Nick and June at all, and yet? They still gave us so much. They didn’t show Nick’s side, they showed him through her eyes — how it hurt her to see him with his wife, hearing the vows?? how she wanted to go to him

There was so much focus on that, it blew my mind.

What bothered me more, honestly, was that they showed Nick looking… almost happy. At peace, even? Which doesn’t track at all with where he should be emotionally. Like, we know this man is destroyed inside. He’s depressed. He’s barely holding on. We know this character. So to see him smiling on stage, being all casual with Rose — it felt off.

But maybe that’s just how June sees him now. Maybe that was the point she’s watching him from across the room and thinking: “He’s fine. He has a wife and a baby. He’s happy without me😭😭

And that hurts. Because for so long, she’s only seen his loyalty. And now it feels like that’s gone for her

4. There’s not enough time left for their arc, is there?

Actually… I think there is. If you look at it closely, most of the other storylines are already wrapped up. Let’s list them:

• Aunt Lydia’s arc? Done.

• Janine’s? Resolved.

• The revolution? Pretty much happened kinda — they wiped out almost every commander in one episode.

• Luke? Yeah, maybe not officially over, but they’ve said it a hundred times this season: they’re a broken family staying together for Hannah. That’s their entire dynamic now. And you can really feel the difference if you compare it to earlier seasons. I just rewatched S5, and back then it wasn’t nearly this clear that June and Luke were done. But now it’s obvious.

And they’ve told us — over and over again — that June loves Nick.

Nick knows it too.

So what’s left?

Two full episodes to finally close the one major arc that’s still open: June and Nick.

We still have Serena floating around, yeah, but even that feels like her arc is wrapping up. So really — this show has time. Especially if you think about how much they’ve crammed into Episodes 9 and 10 in past seasons. Like, S4? They gave us SO much Nick and June in those last two episodes it felt like a fanfic dream.

And here’s what I’ve noticed: the writers don’t like to go too dark.

They haven’t done anything near Game of Thrones level. If you look at major character deaths, we’ve only lost Fred (who was clearly a villain), and that’s it?? That’s it.

They’re giving even the evil characters redemption arcs — Lydia, Serena.

And Nick? He hasn’t even done anything that really needs redeeming. He’s just still part of the system, and his arc is clearly about waking up and choosing something better.

Another arc that still needs resolution?

The idea that not all commanders are monsters.

We even saw this theme play out in this episode, when Serena tells her husband:

“You’re a bad person because you’re a commander.”

It’s not even about specific actions anymore. The title itself = monster. (Of course he is a monster no doubt)

But that’s the label Nick is carrying.

Even though he’s never had a handmaid, and he never would. He’s never raped anyone. He’s not like them.

(Also Hannah’s arc is not resolved)

So yeah, I think we still have enough time. enough to finally give us what we’ve been waiting for:

That moment where June says, loud and clear, it’s you. only you.

[pukefactory]

You write Threadville Oliver so well! I want to squeeze him til he makes a squeaky toy noise! Can I make a request for headcanons where his s/o is as doting as he is? Just trying to make sure he's well fed with good food, doing some of the heavy duty chores so he doesn't have to worry about them and getting rid of that worm making sure he has free time to spend off the farm

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. EVERYTHING IN THE GARDEN IS ROSY .* :☆ﾟ.

✿ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Oliver X A Doting Reader

✿ Character(s): Oliver (Threadville)

✿ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

✿ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

✿ Image Credits: @supernob12three on X

❀ You carry two baskets: one for vegetables, and one just for him. He tries to protest at first, wiping sweat from his brow with that frayed handkerchief, mumbling something like, “Well now, you didn’t have to bring me a whole dang lunch—jeepers, that’s rhubarb pie ain’t it?” You cut him off with a kiss to the forehead. “I wanted to.” His ears go red. He eats in silence, smiling so wide it crinkles his whole face.

❀ Oliver’s garden gets a little out of hand when he’s distracted, so you’ve taken to sneaking in before sunrise to weed the beds and tuck little notes in the soil: “Good job on the squash today.” “I love you more than bees love blossoms.” He finds them every morning and pins them up on the rafters with clothes pegs. You pretend not to notice he keeps every single one.

❀ Worm doesn’t like you. Good. Because you despise Worm. You’ve made it your personal quest to keep that dirt-drenched pest out of the garden, standing guard with a rusty tin pail and a spoon like it’s a sword. When Oliver asks why you’re always out by the radishes at night, you just shrug and say, “Oh, just keeping things cozy.” He doesn’t know you shouted “GET OFF HIS CABBAGE, YOU SLIMY MONSTER” just yesterday. But he does know he’s been sleeping easier.

❀ The chores are shared, but when Oliver is feeling burnt out (and you always know), you let him sleep in while you collect eggs and prep breakfast. The moment he shuffles in—half-asleep and smelling like sunshine—you greet him with a kiss and a cup of tea sweetened with honey. “Today’s off-duty for you,” you whisper. “I already did the work.” “But I’m s’posed to—” “Shh. You deserve to rest.” He sits in your lap instead of a chair. Doesn’t argue again.

❀ There’s an old patch of land near the barn that Oliver swears is too rocky for anything to grow—but you’ve been sneaking compost and seeds into it for weeks now. One day, while walking home, he gasps and drops his basket. Morning glories. A sea of them. He turns to you, and he’s got that look, like he’s about to cry but too happy to do it right. “Did you…?” “I wanted you to have something just for you.”

❀ He forgets to eat when he’s focused. You learned the hard way when he passed out in the squash field. Now you bring snacks in a patchwork pouch and toss them to him like dog treats when he gets that glassy, tunnel-vision look. “Oliver. Eat.” “But I was just—” “Eat, or I’m calling Veena.” He eats. Grumbles. Then smiles when you ruffle his hair.

❀ Sometimes when the memories creep in—his dad’s hat still hanging on the door, the time he couldn’t afford shoes for Jasper—he gets real quiet. You don’t speak. You wrap him in your arms and play a record softly in the background until his breathing evens out. He tells you later, “You make the bad things feel like bedtime stories. Not gone, but soft.” You press your forehead to his and say, “You made me soft, too.”

❀ You sew patches into his jeans when he rips them, always shaped like hearts or stars. Oliver tries to act bashful but ends up showing off the new patches to everyone. “Yep, my partner sewed that one. And that one too! Ain’t they just the best? Look, this one’s shaped like a little eggplant!” You act like you’re exasperated, but it warms your chest every time.

❀ You and Oliver do romcom nights once a week. He cries during every movie. You tease him for it. But the moment you sniffle, he’s pressing kisses to your knuckles, offering tissues and saying things like, “You don’t gotta be brave tonight. I’ll do the crying for both of us.” And he does. Loudly. You think he might actually be in love with Meg Ryan.

❀ He doesn’t say “I love you” with words, not often. He says it by saving the biggest tomatoes for your sandwich. By building you a scarecrow that looks suspiciously like you. By dancing with you in the kitchen, a track of dusty boots and muddy socks sliding across the wood. By whispering into your ear, when he thinks you’re asleep, “I hope I’m makin’ you as happy as you make me.” You always pretend you’re asleep just a little longer.

[lvrsturniolo]

sleep paralysis -c.s

(Mother’s Day special)

sorry for this chat 😬😬 happy Mother’s Day tho !

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

warnings; mentions of death. angst. depression. sleep paralysis. loss of a loved one.

synopsis; it’s Chris and your daughters first Mother’s Day without you.

It’s early.

The kind of early where everything is blue-tinted and quiet, except for the soft breathing of a child tucked into the crook of his arm. Chris doesn’t remember when they fell asleep on the couch, every night’s just been blending together.

Now, he can’t move. Not because he doesn’t want to wake her. Not because the weight of her tiny body is too much.

Because he physically can’t.

Sleep paralysis. He knows what it is. He’s had it non stop since you’ve been gone. He struggled with it since he was a teenager, but he soon found the only thing that could successfully tear him from it; you. But you were gone. You weren’t there to protect him anymore.

This time is different, though. This time, he doesn’t feel the usual fear or pressure. This time, he feels… you.

The air shifts.

It smells like your shampoo—the lavender one he could never find in stores after you passed. The one you kept buying in bulk online because it “made you feel soft.”

He swears he can feel the warmth of your hair brushing his jaw. Like you’re leaning over him. Like you’re right there.

And it fucking wrecks him.

He tries to cry, but his body is frozen. Tries to turn, tries to see you, but nothing works. His lips twitch with the effort.

He felt so close to you. But he couldn’t see you. His body wouldn’t let him see you. But, even if it were to, he knows it wouldn’t be real. Because you’re gone. He carried your casket. Then he watched it be lowered into the ground, six feet under. It still haunts him. He can still feel the sadness that weighed down the cemetery that day. The weight that follows him everywhere he goes, knowing that he’ll never see you again.

When he finally jolts awake—body free, lungs full—he gasps so loudly it wakes her. His daughter lifts her head, sleepy eyes blinking, curls a mess.

“Daddy?” she mumbles.

Chris swallows. “Hey, baby. Sorry. Daddy just had a dream.”

She sits up, rubbing her eyes. “Did you dream about Mommy again?”

He nods. “Yeah, I did.”

There’s a silence between them. The kind that used to live in hospital rooms and funeral homes. He hates that she knows how to carry silence like that.

“Today is the day for mommies,” she whispers.

This is their first Mother’s Day without you to celebrate. The first time they didn’t go out and shop all day to put together the first surprise for you. Because you were dead. Although Mila was only 5, she too felt the weight that Chris did. Because his wife was gone, but so was her mommy.

“I know,” he says, voice cracking.

Chris stands, carries her to the kitchen. He makes the pancakes from the recipe you wrote down on a napkin one sleepy Sunday morning. He lets her pour the sprinkles into the batter the way you used to.

“Daddy?” The small girl asks softly from across the table. “Yes baby?” He says back, voice holding something deep, too deep for the girl to understand yet.

“Can we go bring flowers to mommy’s rock?” She says, looking at him with her beautiful eyes. Your eyes.

“Of course, sweet girl. Let’s go get your coat on okay?”

At the cemetery, his daughter sets the flowers down carefully. Chris kneels beside her, one hand on her back, the other clenched around the letter he wrote and almost didn’t bring.

“I swear I could’ve felt you this morning. Right there beside me. And it killed me and saved me at the same time. Happy Mother’s Day sweetheart, I miss you more and more every day I wake up and every night I go to sleep. I hope you’re feeling okay, and I cannot wait until the day I’m with you again. Until then, love.”

He doesn’t read it aloud.

Instead, he watches their daughter pick a dandelion and hold it up to the sky.

“Mommy likes these,” she says.

“Yeah, baby. She really did.” He finally allows a single tear to fall, not being able to hold it together anymore.

And for a second, in the warmth of the spring wind, in the sunlight that hits her hair just like yours—he swears he sees you.

Smiling. Watching. Loving them from somewhere just out of reach.

God, he wishes this was just sleep paralysis. A dark nightmare that you’d shake him awake from and hold him until his breath was once again steadied. But it’s not. And it never will be.