#or I’ll make this at a later time when more things come out

[em1i2a3]

Carry The Zero

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry (or The Void) x Avengers!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bob are sharing a room while the Avengers Compound is under renovations, which brings on a slew of new things to learn about one another.

Warnings: Semi Spoilers for Thunderbolts I guess because Bob is in here. Other than that there is nothing too extreme happening in here, it’s a bit emotional, but there is fluff in here, I would kind of describe this as a Hurt/Comfort fic than anything. There are mentions of abuse and there is also some heavy petting maybe? I mean, I’ll put that in here to cover my booty lol.

Authors Note: My second viewing of Thunderbolts truly got my mind racing for what to write in regard to Bob. Thought I would put out this lil blurb and probably add more to it later in another segment or something! Anyways! Enjoy y’all and happy premiere weekend!!! :)

Word Count: 6,784

The room wasn’t built for two people, that’s what you knew for sure. It used to be a storage space, at least that is what you assumed judging by the various filing cabinets that lined the area, the dented lockers that were near the door, and the strewn papers that nobody decided to throw away in preparation for the move-in. The only thing that was the saving grace was the fact that the place had a window that let you look out onto the city. But it still didn’t truly make up for the cramped space, even though they were able to shove two twin sized beds inside it and call it a room–which showed how effective their planning was throughout all the chaos.

The Avengers Compound was still under renovations after a security breach took out part of the living space, meaning everyone needed to be shuffled like cards in a losing deck. Room assignments were given unwillingly to everyone, and you had been paired with Bob.

It was weird to be rooming with someone who had the power of a million exploding suns as people liked to say, because even though he carried that on his sleeve sheepishly, his personality certainly didn’t match that of a person who could take down the entire world. He was shy, quiet, and careful, tip-toeing around you like you were going to snap at him at any second–which was not the case at all.

Compared to the other options you had you actually preferred to be rooming with him.

The first few days had passed in near silence. You didn’t talk much, you’d only go into your room to sleep or change, and when you would do something outside of those two things Bob would rush out pretty quickly, apologizing nervously under his breath, like he thought you were obligated to time alone.

He’d go to bed early, and you’d catch him reading beneath the awful buzzing lamp that was left in the room from before the two of you moved in. You never really asked him what he was reading because the title was always changing, like he couldn’t finish anything, or he had so much time to himself he was finishing books like they were snacks.

Then there were little things you began to notice.

He’d pace a lot, wring his hands in his lap, or pick at the skin on his fingers. He was clean, he never left shoes in the middle of the room, and always lined them up neatly under his bed frame, even yours. He would flinch at loud noises, like if there was a childish argument happening in the communal kitchen and things got too high in volume he would get a little twitchy. He was observant, and paid attention to everything around him–sometimes you would hear him talking to himself, repeating fragments of conversations from earlier in the day, like it grounded him in some way.

He had his routine and you respected it as much as possible, but tonight was entirely different.

You were coming in late from training, and a med bay visit.

The scrape on your shoulder wasn’t serious, but it was bad enough to have Bucky send you down to get checked out. It was standard–some antiseptic, a lecture from one of the nurses about being more careful and aware of your surroundings, and then you were released with a warning, and a fresh bandage. You were exhausted, sore, and annoyed with yourself for not paying attention and letting your guard down during a simulation, especially because the past few nights had been like that.

By the time you reached your floor, the halls were quiet. There wasn’t any bickering or discussions happening in the kitchen, nobody was lingering in the living room with post-mission jitters, it was just peace, for once.

You stopped at the fridge to pick yourself up a bottle of electrolytes, then paused, eyeing the row of them. You bit your inner cheek, and after a second of hesitation you grabbed another one for Bob, tucking it against you.

You figured he would be awake like he always was when you were on your training nights. You weren’t sure if he was just waiting for you or if he was just incapable of resting when you weren’t accounted for, but you never asked.

Slowly, you moved down the hall, twisting the cap off your drink with a wince when you strained just a little too much, causing the bandage to sting beneath your shirt. You gritted your teeth and let out a frustrated grunt.

“Gotta take it easy on yourself.” You heard Bucky say from behind you. You turned on your heel, seeing he was still in his training gear, also holding a bottle of electrolytes as well, “You’re gonna burn out if you don’t take breaks.” You shifted under his gaze.

”I want to be better, that’s why I’m training. If you got your ass handed to you on the field you would be doing the same.” He shook his head.

”No. I would be resting and seeing what I could do better the next time. Don’t come to training for the rest of the week, just relax and recoup, we’ll revisit your regimen when you’re better.” Before you could say anything he typed his code in for his room, and was out of your sight. You could feel your body seething as you turned back around to continue making your way down the hall. You’d seen it coming from a mile away just by the way he was watching you during the simulation but you never thought he would say anything to you like that. It just added another layer of annoyance as you reached your room.

You pushed the door open gently, careful not to let the hinges creak too loudly. The room was dark, which was unexpected, Bob’s light wasn’t even on. The only thing that was illuminating the room was the shimmer of city lights, casting silver-blue shadows across the floor.

Bob was in bed, lying on his side facing you, with his blanket tugged up to his neck. His face was soft in the low light–features relaxed, eyes closed. Sleeping, or at least you thought he was. You lingered in the doorway for a moment, squinting in the dimness of the room to see him a bit better.

His light brown hair looked a little messy, like he’d been shifting around for a while before finally settling on the position he was in now. You wondered how long he was lying like that, or if he had been waiting for your return but fell asleep in the process, and now you felt even worse than before.

You let the door close softly behind you with a gentle click, removing your shoes slowly, one at a time. Every motion felt heavier than it should have–dull with fatigue, and edged in frustration. You padded across the narrow space, keeping your steps quiet, with the extra bottle of electrolytes tucked against you, the condensation seeping through your training jacket.

You crouched slowly beside Bob’s bed, biting back a wince as your muscles tensed in protest, while you placed the bottle down on the floor, angling it so he’d see it when he woke up. It was a small, quiet offering, just something kind, a consideration in a way. You took your next moves slowly as you stood up and turned to your own bed with a tired exhale, putting the cap back on your drink and throwing it onto your bed. One hand rose to the zipper of your training jacket, pulling it down in a swift movement, teeth grinding while you pushed the fabric off your shoulders, feeling pain erupt from your ribs and shoulder now, the muscles pulsing with burning heat.

The cool air of the room hit your skin instantly, and your tank top didn’t do much to hide any of your injuries from the environment. Your back arched with the grating sting that came through you, and one hand came up to press against the bandage, making sure it was still on properly and not tugging at your skin. The ache was sharp and pulsing, and when your fingers came away damp, you already knew there was blood seeping through the gauze. You grimaced but didn’t consider making another trip to the med bay. You were too tired to care at this point, and it wasn’t something that would cause you to bleed out, so it was a morning issue to deal with.

You turned toward your dresser, collecting a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized sweater that smelled faintly of sage, throwing both articles of clothing down onto your bed with a soft plop. You rolled your shoulder gently, testing the range of motion in it with a quiet wince before reaching for the hem of your tank top, peeling the rough fabric up your skin carefully, trying to avoid the worst of the sting, though even at your slowest pace you could feel the movement pulling at the wound.

The cotton clung briefly to the tape of the gauze and the dried sweat that coated your skin before finally giving way, and coming off completely. You let out a sigh of relief, as you let the fabric fall to the floor, reaching for your sweater next. The bandage on your shoulder throbbed with every shift you made, but it was the deeper bruises scattered across your body–ghosts of impacts from the past few days–that ached beneath your skin like an echoing thunder. You glanced down at yourself, taking in the way they bloomed across your ribs, stomach, and hips, at this point you could see more bruises than your actual flesh at this point, and they were tender, dark and swollen. Maybe Bucky was right, maybe you really did need a break…

Your fingers curled loosely into the hem of your sweater, but you didn’t think to pull it on yet, you just continued to look down at the wreck that was your body, and the longer you stared, the more numb you became. It was easy to take a break but it wasn’t deserved, you couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes during missions, and you knew you weren’t going to listen to Bucky, you would keep training until your body gave out.

You closed your eyes for a moment, before lifting the sweater towards you, ready to retreat into its softness, ready to disappear and call it a night, but then you heard it.

A breath. Sharp and quick. You froze in your spot.

Then came the sound of movement, the shuffling of the blanket, the mattress creaking under the shifting weight.

Your eyes darted toward Bob’s bed instantly, seeing that his back was now turned towards you. His blanket was pulled up around his shoulders, almost covering his whole head, but there was tension in his posture now, like he was more alert, and less relaxed.

Another breath was inhaled, only it was thinner this time, and wet, followed by a muffled sniffle. Your brows furrowed, and you worked quickly to throw your sweater on without hurting yourself so you were covered up completely, before making your way to his bed, crouching down on the floor, keeping your attention fixated on him. His shoulders were rising and falling now in uneven motions, and now you were piecing together that he was actually crying.

”…Bob?” You whispered, voice soft and low, like if you made it any louder than the volume you were at now it might shatter him. You could see the shuddering in his shoulders halt at the way you said his name, and he pulled the blanket higher over his head, like he was trying to shield himself from your eyes.

”I’m sorry…” Your brows pulled together in confusion as you leaned against the bed a little more, watching the outline of his frame beneath the covers, seeing the small tremors still running through his shoulders. You bit the inside of your cheek as you reached out, your hand hovering for a breath before resting gently against the curve of his back. He was radiating heat through the blanket, but he was stiff beneath your touch, like he didn’t know what to do with the comfort you were offering.

“Bob…Why are you apologizing?” You asked softly. He took in another shaky breath, but didn’t answer. You let out a sigh, rubbing your hand up and down his back like your mother used to when you cried, trying to soothe him, to calm him as much as you could.

”I…I saw the bruises.” He said, barely a whisper. Your hand on his back froze for a moment, “I-I didn’t mean to look, I swear, I just-“ His breath hitched, realizing that you were probably throwing daggers into his back with your eyes, “I just woke up…And saw them, and I couldn’t…Couldn’t stop remembering…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, it was just too much, as another set of sobs escaped his throat. You could feel your gaze soften at the noise, almost like a piece of your heart was breaking for him, continuing your movements along his back, pressing just a little harder into the muscle.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you want some electrolytes or something?” He shook his head.

”No…P-Please just stay…” His voice was hoarse, cracking under the thickness that coated his throat from the tears. You nodded even though he couldn’t see you, staring at his shoulders as he continued to cry, curling in on himself beneath his blanket.

You continued rubbing his back, keeping a steady and consistent rhythm. The heat of him radiated through the blanket like a furnace on the verge of burning itself out. Every time your hand passed over his spine, his shoulders seemed to loosen by a fraction.

“C-Can I ask something…Kind of w-weird?” His voice broke through the quiet again, in such a timid whisper that you barely heard it.

“Sure.” You replied, hearing him sniffle again. There was a long pause, and you could feel the hesitation, like he was trying to put his words together properly so whatever he was going to say didn’t come off creepy. You continued to run your hand over his back, waiting patiently for him, watching his figure rising and falling beneath the blanket, still seeing it shaking. In your mind, you were worried, you hadn’t seen him like this before, and there was a moment where you considered calling Bucky or Yelena to come help you, but then his voice broke through the thoughts.

”…Could you…” He took another breath, “Could you…Please hold me?” The question came out strangled, like it had clawed its way out of his throat before he could second-guess it again. You blinked slowly at the request, not because you were unsure of your answer, but because the way he said it was so gentle, and embarrassed it caught you off guard in a way.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to say, you thought maybe he was going to ask you for a tissue, but this was something far more vulnerable, something you never thought would come from Bob of all people, even though you knew he was sensitive. Inside you hesitated only because you didn’t want to hurt him by possibly doing the wrong thing, yet your heart ached watching him break down beneath his blanket which at this point was drowning him because of how much he had curled up beneath it.

“Of course…Just let me change out of these training pants first okay? It’ll just take a second.” There was no response to that, just movement. He shifted towards the wall so he was giving you enough space to get in, still hunched over like he felt guilty for the area that he occupied. You quickly stood up, and made quick work of shimmying out of your training pants and putting on your cotton sleep shorts, which was probably the best idea since you felt him burning through the blanket he was wrapped in. You brought your attention back to him soon after, returning to the side of the bed, your eyes roaming over the lump that resembled his body.

With a gentle hand, you tugged the edge of the blanket down just enough to uncover the top of his head, revealing his light brown hair again which looked dampened with sweat beneath the illuminating city lights that shined through the window. He didn’t say anything, or protest being exposed to you, so you took that as a good sign to continue.

You slid into the space he made for you, careful not to jostle the cocoon he made for himself too much, and eased your bad arm underneath his pillow so your scraped shoulder could rest in a neutral position where your bandage wouldn’t rip off your skin completely. You pulled up the blanket slightly, getting in behind him, scooting closer until your chest met his damp back.

His navy blue t-shirt was soaked through completely, and it wasn’t helping that he was wearing long pants to bed either. There was a fear he was gonna pass out from heat stroke or something, but he had mentioned it several times that he ran hot in general, you just didn’t see it to this extreme. He smelled like a salty rain storm, or like ozone, it was something indescribable to you in those moments, but it was what he typically radiated, it was familiar.

Slowly, you brought your arm over his torso, placing your hand onto the hard plane of his sternum, the muscles beneath his shirt twitching against the unfamiliar touch that you introduced to him.

Neither of you spoke, you just laid against each other in pure silence, listening to each other's breathing–his trembling, yours steady. He could feel your hot breaths against his neck and tried to pay attention to it, as you pushed down the blanket a bit with your elbow to shed the makeshift shield from his body. It took him a while to compose himself enough to speak again, but when he did, you were hanging off of every word.

”…When I saw the bruises…” He rasped, “All I could think about was me. When I was a kid…” The mentioning of his childhood immediately felt like a blow to your stomach. He had said something about how he was raised in passing, but it was an off handed remark that nobody really paid attention to. You figured it was something he didn’t want to talk about, but hearing him say this only made you dread what he was going to continue with.

”After he’d hit me…I’d go over to the mirror, just to see how bad it was. I’d tell myself it didn’t hurt, even if it did, I’d just lie to myself, because I knew if I cried, he’d just get angrier. He was always in the mood to beat me up so when he had a reason I think it made him feel justified in some…Messed up way.” Your chest tightened at his words, thinking about how scary it must’ve been for him, and how terrified he must’ve felt not knowing when his own father would strike. You didn’t speak right away, but you did shift, sliding your hand up higher on his chest, so you could press your palm flat over his heart. His shirt was soaked there too, yet beneath it all you could feel the frantic fluttering of his pulse, like a bird rattling against its cage.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, your breath tickling his neck again. He didn’t respond, though he didn’t recoil either.

“None of that should’ve ever happened to you,” You continued softly, brushing your thumb along the fabric against his heart, “You were a child, and you didn’t deserve that.” He let out a breath like he was trying not to begin sobbing again.

”You don’t have to say that.” You raised your head a bit, almost in disbelief that he truly thought that what happened to him was somehow okay or justified.

”I do, Bob.” You murmured, inching just a little closer, feeling your body screaming in protest as your injured shoulder moved the wrong way, causing you to hiss through your teeth. Bob noticed instantly.

”You’re hurting,” He said quietly with guilt sinking into every syllable.

”I really couldn’t give a crap about that right now Bob, trust me I’ve been through worse. You’re hurting right now too and I’m not going anywhere. Do you understand?” You replied back, your voice low, but lacking bite, not that you intended to have it sound stern or anything.

Bob shifted beneath your touch, slowly rolling onto his back like the weight of your words cracked something loose inside him. You adjusted carefully to give him space, keeping your injured shoulder angled away from the impact of his back pressing against your arm, even though the ache felt like white noise beneath the tension that was beginning to rise in the room. When he settled on his back you adjusted yourself so your chin rested against his chest, keeping your hand splayed in the same position over his heart.

His eyes didn’t find yours at first, they stared blankly at the ceiling, the soft glow of the city lights catching the shimmer of the tears that were still pooling in his eyes. Now that you could see him fully, you realized how bad things really were. His skin was blotchy, and flushed from how hot he was. His cheeks were stained with fresh tears, mixing with sweat that created this overall sheen on his skin in general, which made his hair cling to his forehead. A long, old kind of hurt settled over his face, the kind that hid quietly within the corners of a person.

He inhaled shakily, and every exhale got caught somewhere between exhaustion and restraint. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your chin, and it made you ache in a way that put a hole deep in your chest.

”Bob…” You murmured, barely louder than the sound of the city humming outside the window, “Look at me.” At first he didn’t move, keeping his eyes fixated on the ceiling, distant and confused, still taking in those short bursts of air. Your hand left his chest, bringing them up to his jaw, coaxing his attention with the lightest touch you could give him.

“Look at me Bob,” You whispered again.

Then slowly, his eyes shifted downward until they found yours. The moment his gaze landed on you, something cracked open between you both–it was quiet, and delicate, but present and grounded in the center of it all. His expression was drawn, and his lashes were clumpy and wet with tears, framing his shimmering blue irises.

The skin surrounding his eyes were raw, almost a blood red, like someone had scratched it and left their marks streaking down his flesh. You didn’t flinch away from it though, you just looked at him with such focus, like your gaze could settle the storm that was in him. You could see his lip tremble slightly under your gaze as he tried to hold himself still, tears brimming in his eyes again, threatening to spill.

”I hate remembering…I can’t stand it. I don’t want to remember this stuff…I don’t want to think about it anymore, and I don’t want you to associate me with being weak.” You raised your eyebrows, now raising your head up to you were looking at him a little better, resting your hand against his chin now.

”I don’t, ” You stated, watching a set of tears flow out of the corners of his eyes, swallowing loudly, “I don’t associate you with weakness.” You whispered, brushing your thumb along the smooth skin of his cheek.

”I associate you with patience…With overwhelming kindness, and with strength so deep it doesn’t even have to be displayed. You could burn the sky down…You could use all the pain inside you to destroy the planet…Yet you help, you listen, and you keep going. That’s not a weak person Bob.” You wiped one of the tears away with your thumb, feeling him hesitate before leaning into your touch.

“Y/N…I’m not right in the head…You don’t understand…You’ll never understand.” You shook your head, and sighed.

”I don’t have to understand everything to care about you,” Bob’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment, like the words that you said hit him like a truck. You could feel the tension in his jaw, as he clenched it tightly, trying to contain himself a bit.

“I used to think that if I could just bury everything deep enough maybe it wouldn’t make me feel so contaminated…But then when I got the serum…And The Void came…And that awfulness manifested into something bigger…I realized that it just wouldn’t go away. I’m dangerous Y/N…I’m not someone that can be fixed. I know you care, but I can’t risk hurting you.” You shifted closer to him, moving up slowly, dragging your chest along his. His eyes followed your movements, turning his head when you settled near his shoulder, feeling your hand leave his cheek.

“You don’t scare me Bob. You’re just saying this stuff because you think it’ll make me give up on you, but I’m not that easy to sway.” You whispered, reaching down to touch one of his hands, which caused him to flinch. He was already bracing himself, preparing to be pulled into one of your memories, but it didn’t happen…It was like…Things were quiet. Just pure emptiness, and the only thing he could see was you. He stared at you as you wrapped your fingers around his hand, seeing his brows draw together.

“H-How are you…Doing this?” He asked quietly, like he was afraid he was going to disturb the peace and get thrown into your mind out of nowhere.

”I locked it out.” He shook his head at you quickly.

”That’s impossible…It always gets in…” A small smile came up on your lips, hearing the disbelief in his voice, the way he was almost entirely taken aback by what you had just said. You leaned in a little closer to him, like you were going to tell him a secret, feeling his breath fanning over your face.

“Before I was recruited, I was part of a different team. Black-ops, kind of like what the X-Men used to be, but very much under the radar. It was just…Constant missions, we were a clean up crew basically, picking up the scraps that nobody else wanted…” You smiled faintly, the corner of your mouth twitching with the memories of your team, how close you all were, how none of you took crap from anyone…Similar to what you had now, just a little better because of the tether you all had between each other.

“We ran into a lot of people with gifts. Telepaths. Empaths…Stuff like that. Some didn’t even know they were projecting until it was too late. Others weaponized it. Pulled secrets out like stitches and drove people insane without ever touching them.”

Bob was still staring at you, eyes wide and brimming with tears, his chest rising beneath you in short bursts.

“It was mandatory,” You continued. “To train in mental shielding. Neural control. The discipline to lock down your own mind so tight it’s like a vault. We trained until our thoughts didn’t even echo. You learn to breathe around psychic pressure, to mask trauma with static, to reroute memories into dead space. You learn to feel someone reaching for you…And then cut the line.”

Bob swallowed hard, hearing the way you explained everything to him step by step, while still holding his hand, running your thumb over the back of it.

“I wasn’t trained to stop the Void,” You said gently, “But I was trained to stop something similar to it. And apparently, it’s just close enough.” You watched his lashes flutter like he didn’t know whether he was going to cry again or if he was just going to sink into the mattress and disappear entirely.

“…That’s why the mental noise isn’t so loud when we're alone in a room together…” He whispered under his breath, almost like everything was clicking in his mind, as his hand began to tighten around yours now, matching the same hold you had, “…Mental shielding…Who knew that would be the thing that makes everything go quiet.” You smirked at his comment, already hearing the tension in his voice wavering, feeling his breath sticking to your cheeks, shifting in front of him so your noses bumped slightly.

“Technically it’s still quite an experimental thing, but…It works when needed I think.” You can see his lip twitch slightly, drawing into his mouth just a little bit, as if he wanted to get a taste of your breath that coated it.

“It’s…Amazing.” Was all he could muster up to say, continuing to hold onto your hand tightly, like it was anchoring him to this quiet space in his head that he had not been able to reach since taking the serum. “…All I hear, and all I feel…Is you and I had no clue until now…” The sound of his voice made your spine tingle, and goosebumps raise on your skin.

It was shocking that moments ago he was this wreck, then suddenly it was like he was on top of the world. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been touched like this in so long, or maybe it was because he finally had a break from all the noise that kept draining him, you had no clue…But what you did know is how soft his eyes had become, and how deep his breaths were now that he was a little calmer, and not being treated like a threat of some kind.

You shifted again, getting almost unbearably close to him now, the fabric of the blanket sliding down slowly, exposing your clothed bodies to the silvery-blue light just a little more. Bob didn’t move, but his eyes never left yours, he kept every ounce of attention on you, waiting for your next action, hanging on every moment. His breath hitched when your knees bumped gently against his thigh, as the warmth of your bodies radiated like twin heartbeats pressed just barely apart.

Your noses were brushing against one another, and if you tilted your chin up by just a little bit, you’d be kissing.

”I’m glad I’ve been able to make it go quiet for you…Even if it’s not permanent.” A faint smile slowly appeared on his face–crooked, and trembling, but so genuine.

“It’s more peace than I thought I’d ever get…So thank you.” He replied back, his hand squeezing yours, not in desperation, but with something closer to awe, like he still couldn’t wrap his head around the situation that was happening in front of him. His breath brushed across your face as he watched your eyes roaming over his. You couldn’t help but stare at him, to take him in now that he wasn’t crying, to admire the person who was in front of you. It was hard not to lose track of time studying his features, and how they were just…Him.

There was a long pause between the both of you, a snippet of time suspended into the universe where nothing else existed beyond the narrow bed and the hum of the city beyond the window. His chest rose slowly, puffing out warm shallow breaths against your lips, and for a second it felt like he was hesitating on something…But then, he leaned in.

It wasn’t fast, or sweeping like he was trying to catch you off guard. It was careful, like every little millimeter he closed between the both of you was an offer for you to pull back, but you didn’t take it.

When his lips met yours, it was a soft, trembling brush of mouths that lingered more in intent than execution. He kissed like he was afraid you were somehow going to disappear, but you could feel how much he truly wanted this. His lips were warm, and slightly parted, and you could taste the faintness of tears and salt, still hesitating to go the full mile.

There was a moment where he was about to pull back, and that’s when you took the opportunity to fully lean into the kiss and throw logic out the window, just for this one cut of time

Your lips moved against his, answering the softness of his approach with something more certain and grounded. The taste of him was still there, but now it was amplified tenfold from how much more pressure you were placing on the kiss now.

He was stiff at first, the tension in his jaw made it evident, like he was unsure of what he was allowed to do, what he was okay to give back, or like he was bracing himself for the possibility of you pulling back before he could even try to meet you where you were at. But then your hand let go of his, and slid up to cup the side of his face, and he let out the smallest gasp of disbelief against your mouth. Your thumb brushed gently beneath his eye as your lips molded to the shape of his mouth with a tenderness that shattered whatever restrain he’d been holding onto.

Your arm shifted beneath the pillow, bending just enough so you could lace your fingers into his damp hair, pulling him in more with such grace that it made him groan. His hand moved to your neck then–his shaky fingers pressing softly just below your ear, his thumb brushing over the curve of your jaw as he located your pulse instantly. His touch wasn’t possessive, it was filled with care, and curiosity. He wanted to feel the warmth of your skin, the steady–or not so steady–rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his fingers, he craved to be closer to you, and every moment that passed was giving him the signal that you wanted that too.

He shifted gently, slowly turning onto his side without breaking the kiss, being cautious not to put anymore unwanted pressure on your arm beneath him as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in until your bodies were flush against one another. You could feel the dampness on your sweater from his shirt, and your bare legs brushing against the cotton of his sleep pants, which only overwhelmed you more, knowing it was going to be a challenge to stop this from going too far.

His hand splayed out on your back, twitching against the fabric that covered it as you parted your lips for him, allowing his tongue to brush against yours with the softest flicker of hesitation, tasting you like he was drinking something sacred. The breath he let out against your mouth made your skin prickle beneath your sweater, and it only encouraged your response.

You angled your mouth to his, encouraging him to continue, feeling him follow suit in an instant, matching your energy bit by bit, syncing with the way you moved against him. When your hand slid further into his hair, and curled within the damp strands, gently tugging, he let out the smallest, softest moan–it was so quiet and desperate it sounded like it had been buried within him for years. It made your head spin hearing it, and it only made you shift yourself towards him even more, feeling his thigh nudging between your legs so the both of you can completely mesh together. It was such a subtle move, but it lit up every nerve ending in your body like it was nothing.

Bob’s hand slid beneath the hem of your sweater, craving the feeling of your skin beneath his touch. His fingers traced the small of your spine, barely putting enough pressure on it, yet he still managed to send shivers through your body. He was getting bolder, but kept his awareness at the forefront, like he was cataloging every reaction you gave him, terrified that he might cross an invisible line and ruin the moment.

You felt the muscles in his arm shift as he pulled you even closer, putting more pressure between your bodies until you felt every rise and fall of his chest, and his heartbeat pulsed through you. His knee shifted again, nudging further between your thighs, pressing it gently into the thin cotton fabric that covered your most sensitive area, eliciting a gasp from you now. You could feel yourself falter control for a moment, moving your hips just a little to test the friction that you wanted, and that’s when you both realized just how far this could go–and how close you already were to getting there.

His hand tensed against your back, and the kiss slowed down, until he found the correct moment to pull back, just a few inches. His lips were still parted, only now they were swollen and wet with saliva. He was out of breath, and you mirrored the same sentiment, as the both of you tried to even your racing hearts before they exploded. His pupils were dilated, and in the dimmed lighting you could only see a faint glisten of blue that rimmed the darkness that took over, the burn was there, the want was there, but there was the looming fear that you both were going from zero to one hundred really quickly, and that’s when regrets could be made, and neither of you wanted that.

”…We can’t do this…” He whispered, his voice cracking from being the first one to speak. You nodded faintly, your fingers still toying with his hair, reluctant to let go completely, but understanding him.

”I know,” You murmured, “Not like this…Not tonight.” You clarified. He closed his eyes, a soft exhale brushing your lips as his fingers twitched against your pulse point on your neck again.

”It’s not that I don’t want to,” He added quietly, “God I do…You have no idea.”

“I know,” You said again, running your thumb along his cheek, soothing the skin there, “Me too…I want to as well…But we’re not ready. Especially after being in the headspace that you were in a few minutes ago.” He nodded slowly.

”I don’t want it to be something that will be confused for a moment of distraction.” You stared at him, hearing how serious he was about it, “And I don’t want to ruin anything.” He added softly, opening his eyes again to look at you.

”You’re not ruining anything, we’re just pressing pause…And that’s completely fine, and it’s the best decision to make for right now.” He gave a small, nervous smile at that and leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours, “We’ll talk more about it later…But for now how about we just relax hmm?” He let out a shaky breath, the heat from it hitting your lips and invading your mouth for just a split second.

”Yeah…I’d like that.” You smiled faintly, as your bodies untangled just a bit from one another, removing the both of you from the intimate position you had found yourself in moments before. His knee shifted out from between your legs, and rested against them instead, letting the tension unravel and disappear slowly.

He wrapped both arms around you now, carefully noting your injury, and you folded yourself into his chest, letting your hand rest on his ribs as he pulled the blanket up to shield the both of you.

You both stayed there, nose to nose, breath to breath, hearts beating unevenly against one another until sleep came over you like a harsh wave.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Dog Tags (3)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When a mission goes wrong, Bucky gets his Dog Tags back.

Disclaimer: This is part three for one and two. Mentions of serious injuries, blood and being hospitalised. Angst, bit of fluff here and there, hurt/comfort, Bucky stays by reader's side. Sam giving Bucky his own reality check, platonic!Wanda, swearing. Left kinda open ended in case I decide to write part four? Not Proof Read.

Bucky stared down at the dog tags in his hands, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the blood stained letters. He had to take a deep breath before the tears started flowing again. 

You were meant to be on a simple recon mission. You’d done them a thousand times. Maybe you’d come back with a bruise or two, but you still came back. 

This time, his phone had rung throughout his room just as the clock turned 4:00 am. An agent had found the tags on her person. They knew they weren’t hers, but they were definitely someone’s. 

Bucky had gotten to the hospital in under an hour. You’d still been in surgery by the time he arrived, but the nurses had brought out your personal belongings in a large plastic bag. 

Your clothes; blood stained to hell. Your Shield issued weapons were empty of bullets. Whatever had happened, you’d emptied your clip, plus your three backups. Your knife lay at the bottom of the bag, stained with blood, too. 

Bucky couldn’t work out if it was yours or someone else's. But he did know one thing for certain. The blood that lay splattered over his tags, as he pulled the chain from the bag, was yours. You never wore them outside of your uniform. You kept them close to your chest. It couldn’t be anyone else's. 

Bucky had left a message at Hill’s desk, as well with Sam explaining what had happened. What he knew, at least. Hill was sending someone to the mission base to find out more. 

“Mr Barnes?”

Bucky took in a deep breath as he stood up, clasping the tags in his palm. Maybe if he squeezed tightly enough, he’d be able to feel you. 

“Yes.”

“Your wife is now out of surgery. We’ll be keeping her under observation for the foreseeable, but once she’s situated in a room, you’ll be able to sit with her.” The Doctor told him. 

Bucky just nodded. “Do you know what happened?”

“I know it’s not common, but I’ll bring you her more detailed medical chart.” They told him. “There was too much extensive damage to talk about off the top of my head.”

Those words hit Bucky in the chest, harder than anything else had ever done. 

“But she’ll-” Bucky couldn’t bring himself to talk. 

The Doctor just nodded. “She’s going to need a lot of physical therapy. Thankfully nothing broke within her legs, but the damage to her muscles will make her training a lot harder than it should be for a while.”

Bucky nodded. 

“But she’ll be okay.”

“Thank you.”

The Doctor nodded. “Thank you for the tags.”

Bucky was a little confused as he followed the doctor’s finger, pointing to his hand. The dog tags? Why was she thanking him for the dog tags?

“If your wife hadn’t been wearing them, we wouldn’t have known who to contact.”

Wife.

Bucky felt himself chuckle inside. If you were awake and could hear the doctor now, you’d have probably made some disgusted eye roll and comment over being even associated with him. 

“Oh, yeah.”

The Doctor smiled. “I’ll come and get you when she’s ready.”

“Thank you.”

She just nodded with another soft smile before walking away. Twenty minutes later, he was being walked down the hallway where he stood outside of your room for ten minutes before opening up the door. 

You had at least a dozen wires hooked up to you, aside from the standard hospital gear. Bucky just stared at the monitor for a while, watching your heartbeat print onto paper. 

Eventually, he sat in the chair beside your bed and looked at you. In that moment, he’d give anything to have you yell at him. Cuss him out, threaten him, roll your eyes…anything. 

“They…” Bucky cleared his throat, looking down at the tags in his hand. “They told me you should still be able to hear me…and that talking helps. I know you’re probably mad it’s me who’s here, but you can’t blame me for this one, doll.” 

A weak chuckle escaped Bucky’s lips as he looked from his hand and to your sleeping frame. “They think we’re married, by the way. Mostly because of the dog tags they found on you. I’ve…I’ve got em’ right here. They’re safe. You’re safe, doll. Just…just kinda need you to wake up soon. Maybe tell me to piss off. Not that I’d leave you anyway, but that’s kinda our thing, right? Fighting?”

Bucky went silent for a while as he looked at you. 

“I need you to fight me, sweetheart.” Bucky told you. “So you’ve gotta mend and pull through all of this. Whatever happened out there in the field…that’s not the end of your story. It can’t be. I won’t let it.”

Bucky could hear your voice in his head. “You’d don’t have a choice in it, Barnes.”. 

Bucky told you a few more things, like how he’d called both Hill and Sam. He told you that he’d text Wanda, “She’ll get it once she lands. I’m sure she’ll be flying through that window soon.”

But, eventually, he stopped talking. He just let the sound of your steady heart fill the room. It was proof you were still alive. You were still here. 

On the days where Bucky couldn’t sit with you, Wanda took his place. Or Kate. Or Sam. On the odd occasion, Joaquin sat with you. Bucky had walked in on plenty of PowerPoint presentations of how his suit was better than Sam’s old one. 

But when he did sit with you, his mind would wander to memories of you and him. Like the training room when he’d told you he knew you had his dog tags, or when he’d helped you when you got hurt a few months back. 

But one stuck out to him in particular. Plenty stuck out to him as time ticked by, but he was reminded of this one as he looked at the side table beside your bed. Your knife lay on top, still in its protective covering. 

Less than three weeks before you’d landed in hospital, Bucky had been training with you. 

The main noises being made were grunts. As you hit his chest, as he knocked your legs down, as you twisted his arm, as he flipped you onto the mat, as you kicked his legs from beneath him, as you both rolled across the mats before you landed on top, trapping him in place. 

“Give in yet?”

“Do you?”

You were about to question what he meant, but then you felt it. Cold and sharp; he had your knife, again. But this time, it was pointed against your side. 

“What?” You hesitated for a second and looked away. Bucky took his opportunity. 

In two simple moves, you were on your back staring up at him with your own knife gently pressed against your skin. 

“Give in.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes at his glowing smirk. “Yes. Fine. Now get off me.” 

Bucky chuckled and stood up, lowering his hand down to help you up. At first, you swatted it away. But he held it out again, “Come on.”

Reluctantly, you accepted it and he helped you stand. “You’re focusing too much. Too in your head. You need to relax.” 

Bucky flipped the knife over in his hand so he was pinching the sharp blade. He handed it over to you and you swiped it up. “Thanks.” Your voice grunted a little before you placed your knife back in its place. 

“You know, if you wanted to, you could train with me more often.” Bucky offered as he walked away. “I know you and I are…whatever we are. But I have training that isn’t exactly found in a Shield manual.”

“I’m fine.” You said, avoiding looking at him as he stood with his back to you. You had stared at him in this fashion one too many times. It was only a short time before someone caught you doing so. Even worse if it was Bucky. 

“It’s not an issue. Hell, we don’t have to even talk-”

“I said I’m fine.” You didn’t mean to raise your voice when you spoke to him. You regretted it instantly. You sighed. “Look, I know you mean well. And, thank you. But I’m okay.”

Bucky watched you, over his shoulder. You walked away from the mats, grabbed your water bottle and sat down on one of the opposite benches. 

“What is it?” 

“What?”

“Do you have a problem with me or something?”

You sighed. “Bucky.”

“I get you and I don’t exactly get along-”

“I don’t have a problem with you,” you cut him off. “I just-” 

You gave a short sigh. There were so many reasons why it wouldn’t work if he was the one to train you. He wouldn’t know it, but you’d become more distracted by him. And for some reason it was written into the heavens that if you and Bucky spent more than ten minutes alone together, things in the air started to get…close. Too close. 

But the main thing was your undisclosed feelings for the super annoying, massive pain in your ass, super soldier. The longer you spent around him, so close to him, the harder they were getting to manage. 

It was only a matter of time before he figured out the truth. 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Can we just leave it at that? Please?”

Bucky watched you for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Forget I ever mentioned it.”

You just nodded. 

Later that evening, Bucky had been with Wanda. And he’d been avoiding the topic of you ever since he walked through the front door. 

“Did something happen between you two?” Wanda just flat out asked him. 

“No. Nothing happened.”

“You’re sulking, so I know something happened.”

Bucky shrugged. “She just doesn’t want my help. I’ve tried being nice. But she’s just so…her. It’s annoying.”

Wanda nodded. “Yeah, I’m gonna need more information than just…you not handling your school boy crush very well.”

“I don’t-” Bucky shut his mouth as he whipped his head around to look at Wanda. “I don’t like her like that.”

“Doesn’t like who?” Sam asked as he walked through the door. 

“Bucky. Not liking Y/n.”

Sam just barked a laugh as he opened up the fridge and put his groceries away. “Ha! That’s a bullshit lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What-”

“Bucky,” Sam was practically laughing. “You’ve had a crush on her for god knows how long. I don’t know what twisted bullshit you both have going on that prevents you from talking like normal human beings, but even I know you saying you don’t like Y/n is nothing but a complete and utter bullshit lie.”

Bucky looked at Wanda for backup but she seemed to be on Sam’s side. 

“You know, maybe if you…I don’t know…talked to her rather than fight her-”

“She fights me!”

Sam just looked at him. “You fight each other.”

“Maybe you should just try and talk to her,” Wanda told him. “Might just clear a few things up.”

Sam sat down on the arm of the chair. “You’ve had feelings for her for a long time, Buck. Maybe it’s time you did something about it.”

Bucky just sighed. 

“How long have you guys been married?”

Bucky hadn’t noticed the nurse walk inside to your hospital room, at first. “Sorry?”

“I’m sorry to ask,” she apologised as she changed out your IV and drew some blood. “It’s just…I’ve seen a lot of couples pass through these doors and I’m yet to see ones with a connection like yours.”

Bucky sat up. The nurse could read the confusion on his face from a mile away. 

She just stepped to the side and pointed at the print of the heart rate. 

“See these spikes here?” 

Bucky nodded. 

“These are from when you’ve been with her. It’s good they’re going up. It means she’s recognising her surroundings. At the very least, the people in it. You’re healing for her.”

Bucky just looked at your still sleeping frame. He was helping you heal?

He was helping you heal?

He was helping you heal?

He was helping you heal?

The nurse smiled again. “How long have you two been married?”

“Not long,” Bucky answered. “But we’ve…we’ve known each other for years.”

The nurse smiled. “Who made the first move?”

Bucky thought for a moment. “She did. She saved my life.”

And you had. 

You’d been one of the new agents placed with the team. In the middle of a forest, Bucky had noticed every tripwire save for one. As something came flying over head, you’d swiped his legs from underneath him and pinned him down. 

“You’re welcome,” you whispered. 

That had been the first time Bucky had met you. It had also been the first time he’d looked you in the eyes. He could have happily drowned there and then. Which scared him. More than he knew what to deal with. 

“And now you’re here saving hers,” the nurse smiled. “I’ll be back in about an hour. Is there anything I can get you? Blankets, pillows?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“She’ll be okay, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky just nodded and watched as the nurse left. As he turned his head, that was when he noticed your chart. They still kept you as Y/n Barnes. Nobody, including Bucky, had bothered to correct them. If anything, it meant Bucky still learnt about your injuries and your healing process. 

It also meant he got access to stay with you for as long as he wanted. Which, if he didn’t have to work and if Sam didn’t come and drag him outside every few hours, he’d stay the whole time. 

It was a month or so more before you finally woke up. 

When Bucky had gotten a text from Joaquin telling him to get to the hospital quickly, he’d dropped what he was doing and came running down the hallway of the hospital ten minutes later. 

“What’s happening?”

“I-I don’t know.” Joaquin told him. “I was just holding her hand and she moved. Like, she squeezed my hand.”

“What?” Bucky moved past Joaquin and to your side, leaning his hand on the side headboard. 

“Y/n? Hey, doll? Can you hear me?”

Bucky held your hand in his. Nothing happened. “I know you don’t like me all that much, but if you can hear me, can you try and squeeze my hand?” 

Again, nothing.

Bucky looked at Joaquin. 

“I didn’t dream it.”

Bucky looked back at you. For a split second, he pushed some of your hair from your face. “Doll, if you’re awake, please. I just need you to squeeze my hand.”

Again, nothing. 

Until there was something.

“Go and get a nurse.”

“On it!” Joaquin practically flew out of the room. 

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Joaquin had been talking to you, telling you that you were gonna be okay. Then you heard Bucky’s voice which was quickly followed by a rough hand gently holding onto yours. 

And when you finally opened your eyes, you saw him. Standing beside your bed, holding your hand, looking like the world had finally started moving again. 

It was a few hours before you came around properly. And when you did, it felt a lot less hectic. Everything was peaceful and quiet. You had time to look around. There was a steady beeping somewhere. 

A heart monitor. 

You had different wires and tubes sticking out of you. The lights weren’t as bright as they’d been when you’d first woken up. 

But the thing that caught your eye the most was the sleeping frame of Bucky, hunched over your bed. Then you felt it. His hand, still in yours. 

You tried to squeeze his hand but eventually it hurt a little less and he stirred awake before shooting up. 

“Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“How long have I been out?”

Bucky answered you honestly. “Almost two months. The damage was extensive. Can you remember anything?”

You just nodded. “I think I blacked out after the building collapsed because I don’t remember anything after that.”

Bucky stood and pressed a button on the headboard of your bed before sitting beside you, clasping your hand in his. If it had been any other time, you would have taken your hand right back. 

But in that moment you needed comfort. You needed to feel safe. 

You felt safe with Bucky. 

But then you gasped. “Shit.”

“What? Are you hurt? What is it?”

You sat up and touched your chest and neck. “Your- your tags. I-”

Bucky just pulled the chain from his shirt. “There’s right here.”

You visibly relaxed but then you tensed as you watched Bucky remove them. “What are you doing?”

A small chuckle left him, “Just stay still, would you?”

“It’s not like I can exactly run away right now.”

Bucky smiled to himself before lifting the chain up and over your head. “There.”

You looked at him, wondering what he meant by all of it. “They’re your tags, Bucky.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But I know they’re safe with you. They always looked better on you, anyway.”

Once Bucky knew you were okay, he’d wiped the rest of the tags clean. He’d been waiting to lay them back on you. He didn’t want to do it while you were sleeping. He needed you to fight him first. 

He needed proof you were alive. 

That was when the door opened and a nurse walked inside. “You’re awake! I must say, you nearly gave me and your husband a fright earlier. The doctor hadn’t predicted that you would wake up this early.”

You looked at Bucky and whispered, “Husband?”

“Just go with it,” he whispered back. 

It wasn’t until an hour or so, when both the Doctor and nurse had left, that you spoke to Bucky again. 

“You wanna tell me why we’re married?”

“They found my tags with you. They called me and…”

“You never corrected them?” You’d asked that question a lot calmer than Bucky had been expecting. 

“It meant I got to stay with you longer. And that they’d tell me what was going on.”

“You didn’t need to do that, Bucky.”

Bucky was honest with you. “I’m glad they called me first.”

You hand clutched the tags dangling from your neck. “They really thought you were my husband?”

Bucky chuckled. “If anything, the tags made sure you came home.”

In the silence as you and Bucky looked at each other, you felt the coolness of the metal in your palm. His tags had brought you home. His tags had brought him to you. His dog tags made sure you weren’t alone. And something told you Bucky had the same idea. 

Which was only confirmed when he attended almost every physio appointment with you. 

“How’s she doing, doc?”

The physio smiled as they held their arms up, in case you fell. “She’s doing great.”

“She’s tired and pissed off.” You answered truthfully. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I brought your favourite snacks from that store you and Kate found.”

Your hand gripped the two parallel bars as you slowly walked from one side to the other. “How the hell do you know about that store?”

“I asked Kate. She told me.”

As the phyio’s pager went off, Bucky offered to take over for a few minutes to help you. And, considering the medical staff still believed you and Bucky to be married, you’d both decided to just keep the act up. 

So, slowly walking beside you in case you fell, Bucky helped you turn around and walk back down the parallel bars. 

“How’ve you been feeling?”

“You mean other than tired and pissed off?”

“Yeah.”

“Sore,” you admitted. “Bored. I can’t wait to get back home.”

If Bucky was being honest, he would say the same thing. Even if you did spend more time fighting each other, he missed it. He missed you. 

“Neither can I.” The honesty slipped out from Bucky before he could think about any awkward consequences. 

You paused and looked at him. “What?” Your voice was a little softer than usual. 

“What?” Bucky shrugged. He’d said it. There was no taking it back. “It’s boring without you. I get we might fight the whole time, but without you I’ve got no one to keep my ego in check.”

Bucky earned a laugh from you as you looked away to keep walking. And he laughed, too. 

You had to admit. Laughing with Bucky rather than groaning was a nice change. 

And it only got easier from there on out. Your groans had turned to laughter, your scowls had turned to smiles and the roll of your eyes had turned to tears of laughter. 

And slowly, the same things happened for Bucky, too.

Eventually, the ten minute window you and Bucky spent together turned into twenty, then forty and before either of you knew it, hours had passed. 

You were both together and, surprisingly, still alive. 

[brittle-doughie]

Downstream Part 2: Frigid Lies

The cards come tumbling down

[Part 1]

“And with just a little ingenuity…”

You snapped the rocks together to form enough of a spark to light your fire, Affogato Cookie’s eyes widen as the fire roared amidst the wood.

“You have yourself a strong fire that will get you through the night.”

“Why give it so much effort when I could simply create a fire with my magic. It would save you the trouble..”

“You can use fire spells?”

“Well, I…..”

You gave him a look as Affogato immediately surrendered.

“I don’t.”

“If you want to help me next time, I can give you a hands-on lesson on how to make a fire like I do! It can go a long way to ensure you last out here in the snowy tundras.”

“A hands-on lesson?”

“Yeah, y’know. I put my hands over yours and I direct you on what to do!”

Just imagining your more firm, stronger hands over his made his face flush as he tries to hide it from you.

“O-oh, I am…well aware of what that terms entails. I am simply asking if it’s necessary.”

“Are you saying you can handle it on your own?”

“Yes, yes. I can assure you that I can start a fire on my own.”

He takes the rocks from you and gathered leftover sticks and leaves into a pile before trying to replicate what you did. With obvious results.

His form was hampered, he wasn’t placing enough force between the rocks to get that spark going, and he wasn’t holding them firmly enough to begin with.

You creeped behind him and reached forward, holding your hands on top of his as you grip the rocks. This catches him off guard as his face darkened with blush.

“Let me show you how to do it.”

“Spare me the words, I could’ve handle it on my own.”

“Yeah, right. Here.”

You let go at just the right moment for Affogato Cookie to place enough force between the rocks to get a spark going and ignite his pile.

“See? Nothing too difficult for me to handle~”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Affogato. Come on, these rations aren’t going to cook themselves!”

—————————————————

As night approaches, the two of you sit near your fires as you heated your cacao nibs porridge while Affogato preferred what you made for him back at the cabin, a fine serving of rainbow jellies.

He looked away from his meal to look at you, you were gazing at your bowl of porridge with a look of content and….a hint of longing.

“You’ve packed much better than what you have, yet you insist on eating…that.”

“Well, I guess a part of me still misses my time at the Dark Cacao Kingdom. Heh, as much as these things are hardly enough to sustain me long term, they just..bring back my memories serving as the Eighth Watcher.”

“But why look back on a kingdom that’s long turned their back on you? They talk of loyalty, yet showed none for you when they casted you out.”

“Maybe I’ll never know the extent of what I had done to get myself banished, but I respect my King’s decision nonetheless. However unfortunate, he wouldn’t want me to give up so easily and that’s what I plan to do. No matter what, I’ll continue to watch over these snowy lands as the Cookie of the Ridge, from what the locals call me.”

“Eh…..”

He remembers that day, a memory he once looked back on with pride was now a memory he wished he could forget with how things are now.

And with that memory came too his paranoia again.

The Dark Cacao Kingdom will have reorganized and with that will come the possible search parties that will track you down to bring you back. And if he’s with you, an added bonus that the kingdom will charge him for his crimes against them.

He did NOT want to see that come to fruition, especially if that pest was going to be there to personally see him off to the dungeons.

He had to keep the front up. It was either you found out, which was soon. Or the kingdom finds you two, which would be way later.

The choice was clear to him.

“Well, shame on them. Really! They wouldn’t what a more loyal Cookie looked like if it walked right in front of them!”

“It’s okay, Affogato. I’ve come to accept my circumstances now, but…”

You turn to him with a smile.

“I appreciate you trying to lift up my spirits. Truly.”

“Well, I am simply stating the facts. You are a Cookie that was undeserving of your treatment by that kingdom. You’re better off without them.”

You looked up at the moon in the night sky.

“I wish them nothing but the best.”

—————————————————

You were not alone in your moon watching. Somewhere in the forest, another Cookie was watching the moon from her campsite.

“It’s been a while since I’ve set out on my search, is it even possible to find them here at this rate? Are they even still among these snowy lands?”

Caramel Arrow Cookie was sat in front of her fire, hugging her legs as she looked down at the flame. The more time that went by without progress was time that her worries grew.

She didn’t want to think of the worst. You were a Watcher, being able to live off the land was what you were trained to do. Even so, just where could you be? Were you..hiding from her? That can’t be right, you two were anything but distant back at the kingdom.

She catches herself slightly smiling as she thinks back to those times, where the two of you would spar in the training grounds or when the two of you would go out on missions together to aid the nearby villages.

It really felt like that you were her other half that she didn’t think she could ever be apart with, which only made this mission to look for you all the more dear to her.

She wanted those times back.

She wanted those missions together again.

She was not going to give up!

With a determined look, she stood up and looked at the moon with a clenched fist to her chest.

“No! I won’t give up! No matter what! Y/N Cookie never gave up on me before, so I shouldn’t either!”

And then, as if fate had finally allowed it, she looked down at her surroundings and can faintly make out two smoke stacks in the far distance as she narrows her eyes at them.

“A sign? I have to take it! Hang on, Y/N Cookie. Coming to you.”

She clears out her fire and grabs her things before sliding down the snow hill and hurrying to the direction of the smoke stacks.!

This was it. It had to be!

—————————————————

You and Affogato Cookie were sharing a laugh about another one of your silly little adventures out in the snow when you noticed that both fires were start to wear down and you’re out of firewood.

“Ah! Looks like we’re out of wood.”

“Hmm, it seems so.”

“I’ll be right back with more, don’t get the chills before I return!”

“Please, I’ve never felt warmer, hehe~”

You laughed off his remark as you got your axe and headed out to get some more firewood, leaving Affogato to look into the small fire that was left. With him alone, he felt like this was an opportunity to try to alleviate some of the guilt he was hanging onto.

—————————————————

Caramel Arrow Cookie was coming up on the smoke stacks when a voice makes stop before a bush, she remained still as she listened in.

“Look, I didn’t mean to have this happen to you, it was just misfortune circumstances!”

“No, no…uh, it was a simple mistake. I had not intentionally tried to hurt you…”

“It’s not my fault, simply it was how they managed things in the Dark Cacao Kingdom!”

Caramel Arrow Cookie rolled her eyes as she recognized the voice to be Affogato Cookie’s. He can stay out of the kingdom for all she cared, but what was he even talking about with his-

“Things can work out, Y/N Cookie. If you’re willing to try…”

It was like something snapped in her mind.

He did it….

It all made sense now…

She was not the first to be sent away…

And now here he was, feeding and poisoning you the same way he had done to her King….

Was he the reason you didn’t come back?

Did he mention her?

Was he trying to drive a wedge between you and her?

No….

No no no……

She won’t allow it, she can’t allow that SNAKE to take away someone she held dear as she readied her bow….

—————————————————

Affogato Cookie was standing at the porch to your cabin home, the two fires having since been put out as he watches the snow fall.

He watch the individual bits of now fall onto the ground softly as he sighs. He knew that it was only a matter of time before you discovered who he really was, he didn’t know what you would do if you did.

Kick him out to fend for himself?

Personally execute him yourself?

Understand him?

Welcome him still?

He doesn’t like to look back fondly about the past, when you were only just another Watcher. Oh, how wrong he would end up being after your time together with him…

It was only a matter of time…

Should he wait until you found out?

Or maybe…he should just confess himself? Would you hate him less for that?

All he could do know was try to lighten up the guilt by confessing to the fire-

*CRACK!*

“GAH!”

An arrow had struck the wooden beam of the cabin mere inches from his head, shocking Affogato Cookie as he stumbled to the side.

Another arrow is shot, but he manages to conjure a shield to block it.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

“I knew it was you…”

A growling voice replied back as Affogato’s attacker emerged from the snowy trees.

“AFFOGATO COOKIE!”

“Caramel Arrow Cookie?!”

He stumbled back against the door to the cabin as Caramel Arrow Cookie slowly approached him, her eyes blazing with anger as she drew another arrow.!

“Y-you found me already?!”

“Already?! Do you know how long I’ve spent trying to look for the Cookie I held dear the most only to see you here?! And just what were you talking about it being a simple mistake? I should’ve known I wasn’t the first, that it was YOU that did this!”

“N-now, now! If you just give me a moment to explain-SUBMIT!”

Affogato Cookie quickly shot a spell at Caramel Arrow, but she simply dodged to the side and shot her drawn arrow at him, which knocks his staff out of his hand.

He goes to reach for it, but Caramel Arrow beats him to it by kicking the staff off further away.’

“It’s over! Now you’re going to tell me where is Y/N Cookie.”

“I don’t know what you’re-“

She grabs his outfit and gets him against the cabin wall, not having any more of his nonsense.

“WHERE ARE THEY?! WHERE IS Y/N COOKIE?!”

“T-they-“

“Alright, Affogato Cookie. I’m back with the fire…wood?”

You had come back from the forest, ready to keep the fire going only to see Caramel Arrow Cookie having Affogato against your cabin wall, the both of them looking at you wide-eyed.

“Caramel Arrow Cookie?”

“Y-Y/N Cookie?”

“Oh dear….”

[kathaelipwse]

The Bang Chan Husband Files | Headcanons

Warnings: Soft!Chan | Domestic fluff | Mild smut references | Overwhelming emotional support | Possible delusions of the perfect man | MDNI Trope: Husband Material™ | Soft Dom!Chan | Acts of Service + Touch Love Language | Overprotective but Gentle | Golden Retriever x Guard Dog hybrid energy

Dates

Thoughtful to the Core: Bang Chan doesn’t just take you on dates—he curates experiences. A picnic with your favorite snacks, a playlist he made just for the mood, fairy lights, and heartfelt conversation is his idea of perfect. Quality Time Lover: He values genuine connection. Watching your favorite movies with takeout and tangled limbs on the couch is his love language. Memory Maker: Keeps old movie tickets, dried flowers, and Polaroids in a memory box. Every anniversary, he shows you how far you’ve come. Surprise Artist: Plans spontaneous bookstore or museum dates where he pretends to be clueless but clearly researched the exhibits beforehand. Homebody at Heart (But For You, He’ll Step Out): Prefers quiet moments at home, but if you want a night out, he puts in effort—clean button-up, styled hair, hand always in yours. Says the Cutest Things: On casual dates, he’ll blurt things like: “I could do this forever with you. This—us.”

Protective

Silent Guardian Energy: He doesn’t need to say much—his stance, his gaze, and the way he subtly moves closer when someone makes you uncomfortable say it all. The “Step-Forward” Move: Whenever you're walking in a crowded place, he gently shifts his body in front of you to shield you, especially from pushy people or stares. Mild Jealousy, Major Control: If someone flirts, he won’t cause a scene. Just leans down and whispers, “Remind me later that you’re mine, yeah?” with that low, playful voice. Always Prepared: Makes you share your location for your safety, and if you don’t respond after a while, he calls—not to scold, but because he’s scared something happened. Protects You From Yourself Too: If you’re overthinking, insecure, or spiraling, he’ll stop everything and say, “You don’t get to talk about someone I love like that.” Gentle Shield: When things overwhelm you, he wraps his arms around you and says, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Love Language: Acts of Service + Physical Touch

Acts of Service King: He notices the little things you hate doing—laundry, trash, bills—and does them before you can even ask. Fix-It Husband™: Will spend hours figuring out how to assemble something just to make your life easier. You’re always his priority. Can’t Keep His Hands to Himself: Always touching you—thigh squeezes, back rubs while you're cooking, brushing hair from your face. Sleeping Entangled: You wake up with his legs wrapped around yours, his face buried in your neck, and arms locked around your waist. Small, Sweet Gestures: Tucks your hair behind your ear, zips your dress, ties your laces, and kisses your temple like second nature. Handwritten Notes Guy: Leaves sticky notes in your lunch, on your laptop, on the mirror— “You’re stronger than you feel.” “Drink water or I’ll fight you.”

In Fights

When He’s Wrong: Withdraws Out of Guilt: Becomes quiet, not defensive. Hates that he hurt you, even unintentionally. Self-Reflects First: Gives you space so he can cool down, then comes back with a calm, genuine apology. Full Accountability: “You didn’t deserve that. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll do better, I promise.” Physical Apology: Offers a hug—not to escape consequences, but because he needs to feel close while fixing things. Words + Actions: Follows through on change. If the fight was about time, he makes time. If it was about communication, he listens better. Won’t Let You Go to Bed Upset: Even if it’s late, he’ll sit beside you, pinky out, whispering, “I love you. Let’s not sleep angry.” When You’re Wrong: Stays Calm: Doesn’t raise his voice. Just gets quiet and sad, which somehow hurts more. Still Respects You: Doesn’t insult or belittle. Instead, he says things like, “You know I love you, right? But that wasn’t okay.” Clear Boundaries: Tells you how it affected him—but never guilt-trips you. Waits for Your Growth: Won’t rush your apology but also won’t pretend nothing happened. Mature and grounded. Forgives Fully: Once it’s resolved, he doesn’t bring it up again. The past stays in the past. Reaffirms Love: Even in tension, you’ll hear: “I’m still yours. We’re okay, alright?”

Overworking

Workaholic Habits: Gets lost in producing, mixing, fixing—time vanishes until you show up like: “Chris. Have you eaten?” You = His Break Reminder: You have to pry him away with kisses or a snack in your hand, and he’ll act grumpy but follow you. Acts Tough, Is Mush: Once you get him on the couch, he immediately melts into you. Whispers, “You’re the only thing that can stop me, you know that?” When YOU Overwork: He notices. Instantly. Pulls you onto his lap, shuts your laptop, and tells you: “You can’t take care of everything if you burn out. Let me take care of you now.” Midnight Caregiver: If you’re working late, he’ll show up with a drink and rub your shoulders until you give in. Reluctantly Accepts Balance: Tries hard to make time for both his passion and you—because he knows you are his home.

Hypeman

Loudest Cheerleader: Doesn’t matter if you baked bread or landed a promotion—he hypes you like you just won an Oscar. Physical Praise Too: Sees you all dressed up and nearly drops whatever he’s holding: “You can’t be real. I married a goddess.” Social Media Stan: Posts blurry selfies with captions like: “She made me breakfast today. Wife material. Don’t be jealous.” Random Affection Attacks: Walks in, sees you doing dishes, and just hugs you from behind saying, “How are you so amazing all the time?” Annoyingly Obsessed (In the Best Way): Constantly brags about you to the members, staff, strangers. “My wife’s smarter than me. I’m not even ashamed.” Genuinely Inspired by You: Sees you chasing dreams and says, “You make me want to be better. Just by being you.”

In the Bedroom~

King of Build-Up: It always starts slow. Teasing touches, whispered praise, the kind of eye contact that sets your skin on fire. He savors the tension before he breaks it. Voice Gets Deep, Dirty, & Dangerous: When things heat up, his voice drops to a sinful growl—thick with that Aussie accent as he breathes, “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.” Dom But Tender: He’s in control, but not rough unless you want him to be. Holds your wrists gently. His commands sound like worship: “Let me take care of you. Just relax for me, baby.” Obsessed With Your Pleasure: He memorizes what you like, down to the sound you make when he kisses just below your ear. He’s not done until you're shaking and breathless. Eye Contact Demon: Doesn’t look away. He watches every reaction, chases it. And if you close your eyes? “Nah, don’t hide from me. Look at me when you fall apart.” Aftercare Legend: Warm towel. Water. Cuddles. He tucks you into his chest and strokes your hair, whispering, “You did so good. I’ve got you now, angel.”

When You’re on Your Period

Fully Trained, Zero Shame: He’s got the cycle tracked, your cravings memorized, and your go-to comfort movie queued up. “It’s day two, right? I made you soup and cleared the couch.” Zero Ick Factor: Buys pads and tampons without blinking. Talks about cramps and blood like it’s no big deal because it isn’t. “It’s your body being a badass. I respect that.” Snuggle Sandwich Mode: He sandwiches you between pillows and himself, rubbing your belly while muttering sweet things like, “If I could take the pain for you, I would.” On Call for Cravings: Midnight store runs? Done. Heating pad short-circuited? Already replaced. He stocks your favorite snacks before you even realize you want them. Comfort > Everything: Wraps you in his hoodie, tucks a blanket around you, and presses kisses to your temple like medicine. “Let’s just be soft today, baby.” Emotional Anchor: If your emotions spike or you start crying for no reason, he doesn’t flinch. “You don’t have to explain. I’m here. Just cry, I’ll hold you.”

Cooking (He Tries)

Effort 100%, Skill 60%: He watches cooking TikToks like they’re tutorials—but somehow always forgets something important like salt... or timing. Kitchen Chaos King: Expect mess. Flour on his cheeks, three pans going at once, and him muttering, “Why is it burning? I just looked away for two seconds!” Minho = Lifeline: Minho is his emergency contact during culinary crises. “Bro, she’s gonna wake up and the eggs are still moving. Help me.” Plates Like a Masterchef Contestant: No matter how it turns out, he garnishes with herbs, arranges the food perfectly, and says, “Bon appétit, my queen.” Needs Validation Desperately: He watches you chew like his life depends on it. “Do you hate it? Is it edible? Be honest. No, wait—lie to me. Just say it’s amazing.” Laughter Over Perfection: Even if the food’s mid, the love behind it makes it the best meal ever. And when you laugh at his mess, he grins and says, “Hey, at least I made you smile, yeah?”

When He’s Jealous

Silent but Deadly™ Jealousy: He doesn’t lash out—he broods. His jaw clenches, he goes quiet, and suddenly he’s glued to your side with his arm tight around your waist. Subtle Territorial Moves: Starts calling you “baby” louder than usual. Leans in to whisper things like, “You’re mine, yeah? Just so we’re clear.”—right when someone’s clearly checking you out. Polite but Frosty to the Offender™: He won’t be rude… unless the other guy really pushes. Then it’s a low-toned, “You need something, mate?” with the faintest smile and the darkest eyes. Pulls You Close Later: At home, he’ll kiss your shoulder and mutter, “I know it’s dumb, but I hate the idea of someone else looking at you like I do.” Jealous, Then Insecure: The moment fades and guilt kicks in. “You’re with me… but sometimes I wonder if you could do better.” Cue you reassuring him for 10 straight minutes. Jealousy-Fueled Spiciness™: …And then he kisses you like he’s proving something. “Mine. Say it.” (You're not complaining.)

When You Have Random Baby Fever

Soft Panic + Adoration™: The second you say “That baby is so cute,” he chokes on air and gives you a side glance like, “Wait. Are we doing this? Now?” Sudden Overthinking Mode: “Okay but… what if the kid gets your stubbornness and my insomnia? That’s chaos in a diaper.” Would Still Be the Best Dad™: Even while fake-panicking, he’s already imagining your future kid curled up on his chest. “Imagine if they had your eyes though… damn. I’m doomed.” Soft Daydreaming Moments: If he sees you holding a baby? He melts. Later whispers, “You’d be such a good mom. Like… you already take care of me.” Baby Fever Hits Him Too: One random night while brushing his teeth, he mumbles, “So… what if we had two? A girl and a boy?” Like sir. Calm down. “Practice” Time: “Wanna practice being a parent? Starting with… bedtime?” —And suddenly you forget about the baby and remember why Chan needs supervision.

Gaming Nights with the Boys (When You Call)

Hyper-Focused Gamer Mode: Headset on, yelling at Changbin about a grenade throw, fully immersed—until he sees your name light up his phone. Instant Soft Switch™: “Yo, pause—she’s calling.” Drops the controller mid-match just to answer with, “Hey, baby. You okay?” “Y/N Gets Priority” Rule: If it’s not an emergency but you want cuddles or food, he’s already logging off. “The game’ll be here tomorrow. She won’t sleep without me.” Boys Clown Him, But Respect It: Seungmin: “Whipped.” Chan: “Yeah. And?” Sneaks You Into the Headset: He’ll say, “Wanna say hi to the guys?” and hold the mic up for you. The boys greet you like you’re part of the crew already. Post-Game Snuggles Required: As soon as he’s off, he beelines to you on the couch, wraps his arms around you, and mumbles, “Missed you. Even if it was just two hours.”

Sick!Reader (Bang Chan as Caregiver)

Immediately Takes Over: The moment he hears you’re not feeling well, Chan’s brain switches into “nurturing mode.” He’s dropping everything—work, plans, socializing. You come first. “I’m canceling everything. You’re more important than any meeting.” The Ultimate Comforter™: Chan will text you all day long to check in. If you’re running a fever, he’ll cool down your skin with a cold compress, gently rubbing your temples and whispering, “You’re gonna be okay, baby. I’m right here.” Spoiling You with Comfort Food: He’s in the kitchen, whipping up soup (which is admittedly a bit burnt, but made with so much care). “I made this for you, baby. It’s not Michelin star, but it’s full of love.” Guilt Trip Chan™: If you try to say you’re okay when you’re clearly not, he gets a little pouty. “Baby, I told you to rest. You’re going to make me worry even more if you keep getting up like this.” He’ll gently push you back onto the couch, ready to pamper you some more. Cuddles & Rest: When you need sleep, he’s there, either lying with you or making sure you’re cozy. “I’m gonna stay here. You can sleep, and I’ll be right by your side.” He’s a giant teddy bear, making sure you’re not alone. He might even nap with you. “Tell Me What You Need” Mode: If you feel guilty for being “a burden,” he’ll reassure you with, “You’re never a burden. I love taking care of you. You’re my everything.” Even if he’s secretly a little tired, his focus is entirely on you and your recovery.

Anniversaries with Bang Chan

Memory Keeper™: For your anniversary, he remembers every little detail. He’ll bring up your first date, the first time you held hands, and how the two of you grew together. “You remember that day we stayed up all night talking? I’ll never forget that.” Romantic Surprise Planner: Chan doesn’t just get you flowers. He surprises you with a carefully planned day, like a picnic at your favorite park or a movie marathon of all the films you’ve talked about watching together. “I got the perfect spot ready. Thought we’d watch the sunset first.” Gifts with Meaning: He’s not the type to just buy a gift off the shelf. Everything he gets you has meaning. A necklace? It has a charm that represents a moment you both shared. A book? It's something you both love or something that holds sentimental value. “This is from the day we... It’s just a little reminder that every moment with you counts.” Sweet Love Notes: Chan’s a sucker for writing handwritten notes or love letters on anniversaries. He’ll leave them where you’ll find them—tucked in your bag, under your pillow, in your favorite book. “For every year, for every moment. I’ll love you more each day.” Anniversary “Us” Time: He loves nothing more than a quiet, intimate day with you. Even if the world is chaotic around you, he cherishes these peaceful moments with just the two of you. “No need to make it extravagant. Just you, me, and a whole lot of love.” Anniversary Reflections: Chan’s the type to reflect deeply on the year, especially when it comes to your relationship. At the end of the day, he’ll pull you close, whisper, “Look at how far we’ve come. I can’t wait to see what the next year holds for us.”

Jealous!Reader (Chan's Response to His "Jealous" Reader)

Instant Reassurance™: When you show signs of jealousy—whether it’s through an offhand comment or by getting possessive—Chan’s first instinct is to reassure you, showering you with affection. “You don’t have to worry about anyone but you. You’re the one I want. Always.” He’ll emphasize that your place in his life is irreplaceable. Gentle Confidence: Even if he sees you feeling a little insecure, he won’t let you feel inferior. He’ll gently touch your cheek, make eye contact, and say something sweet like, “I only have eyes for you. No one could ever compare to you, no matter what.” Playful Jealousy Back™: If he notices you getting jealous, he’ll tease you—flirting even more, giving you a taste of your own medicine. He’ll act like he’s enjoying the attention, just to make you a little crazy. “Oh, you want to fight for me? I guess I am pretty irresistible.” But it’s all in good fun, just to remind you that he’s the one who gets to claim your attention. Exclusively Yours™: He has no problem showing the world who you belong to. Whether it’s holding your hand in public or showing affection in front of others, Chan’s constant gestures say: “Yeah, she’s mine. And I’m proud of it.” Jealous? He’ll Handle It. If someone really crosses the line with you, Chan steps up in a way that’s both protective and respectful. “Hey, you got a problem with her? Take it up with me.” He won’t let anyone disrespect you, no matter how big or small the offense. Post-Jealousy Cuddles: After any jealousy moment, he’ll always come back to you with an extra dose of affection. He’ll cuddle you, whispering into your ear, “You’re all I want, baby. No one else comes close.”

When He’s Flirty

Innuendo Master™: Chan is full of playful comments that make you blush, like, “I’d say I’m not the jealous type… but if I was, you’d be the only one I’d be jealous of.” Teasing Touches: His hands are always close—resting on your lower back, brushing against your arm, or gently tugging you closer whenever you’re talking to someone else. The Whisper Game™: He’ll lean in close when you’re out in public and whisper something flirtatious in your ear, “You look so good, I might just have to take you home early.” His voice drops to that low, smooth tone that leaves you blushing. Proud Smirks: Whenever he catches you looking at him, he’ll send you a knowing, playful look, as if saying, “I know you’re thinking about me.” Subtle Challenges™: He’ll challenge you to make him blush or make him lose his cool, but deep down, he loves watching you try.

When the reader turns Chan on while he's away on tour~

Sultry Voice Notes™ While he’s away, you send him voice notes that are full of playful teasing and hints. You’ll whisper something like, “I miss you so much… I wish you were here to kiss me right now…” The low tone of your voice and the suggestiveness leave him desperately trying to keep his composure, especially during interviews or rehearsals. Spicy Texts™ You know just how to get under his skin—sending him texts with cheeky comments like, “I bet I’d look good on my knees for you right now…” or “I’ve been imagining how you’ll hold me when you get back…” The words hit him like a punch to the gut, making his thoughts drift away from his setlist or the choreography. He’ll be left biting his lip, trying not to blush when he reads them during breaks. Teasing Photos™ While he’s stuck in a hotel room or on the tour bus, you send him a photo of yourself in something that drives him wild—maybe it’s something you know he loves you in, like a cute but revealing outfit or you lying on the bed in your lingerie. He can’t stop staring at it, fighting the urge to touch himself while he's stuck on tour. “You know what you do to me, right?” he’ll text back, trying to focus on his performance but clearly distracted. Subtle Flirty Videos™ You send him a video of yourself, maybe something simple like you cooking dinner or getting dressed for the day, but you make sure to be extra flirty. A slow motion walk past the camera, a wink, or the way you bite your lip in the middle of your sentence will completely mess with his focus. He’ll be replaying that video on loop, trying to hide his reactions from the other guys. Erotic Daydreaming™ During an off-day or in-between interviews, you know exactly how to turn him on. You send a message saying, “I’ve been thinking about what I want to do to you when you get home… I can’t wait to have you in my arms and show you just how much I missed you…” It’ll catch him off-guard, making his heart race, palms sweat, and thoughts go straight to how he wants to have you when he returns. The Promise of What’s to Come™ You’ll make playful, suggestive promises like, “I’ll let you make up for all the teasing when you get home…” knowing how badly he’ll want to make those words come to life. It’s not just what you’re saying—it’s the anticipation of finally being alone together again. When he reads those texts, he can’t help but imagine all the ways he’ll take control once he's back with you.

-- The End --

[leyavo]

Dad!141 x Dyslexic!kid

Summary: tf141 x their kids struggling with dyslexia at school. Requested by anon [Masterlist]

John’s pissed when he finds out your teachers been making you stand against the wall each time you’ve failed your weekly spelling test. It’s always when they add a new word that you struggle to remember it, mixing the order of letters. You’d just transferred to a new school due his work and being closer to the military base. The last one had more funding, better understanding of your dyslexia. Whereas this one looked like it was stuck in the eighties and didn’t have enough teachers to watch the kids.

“What do you mean they make you stand against the wall?” He asks, fork clanging to his plate at dinner one night.

“They make me stand in front of the wall and read the words so I don’t forget.” You say it like it’s the most logical thing, but John’s chest aches. He’s tried telling you that your brains wired different, that you’re not slow or dumb. Just learn different than others.

He loves the way your mind works. How you pick up on things he’s never thought of or how you’re good with fixing things. Reminds himself that your short term memory isn’t the best, so he’s patient with you and explains again no matter how many times he has before.

“I’ll talk to ya’ teacher,” he grumbles, ruffling your hair. “Eat that broccoli.” He points to your plate, trying to contain the boiling rage burning the back of his throat.

John schedules a meeting with the headmaster, all the little things you told him about the teacher, noted down the day it happened. How many times it happened. Ended up getting you moved to a different class and he was able to talk to your new teacher and make them aware of your dyslexia etc. Checked in a couple weeks later with new teacher and you to see you were okay.

Simon stares at your school report and glances to you. On paper you’re a completely different kid, described as too quiet, need to participate more in the classroom and work on your reading, you’re behind for your age. Given an extra five minutes now for your tests. The teacher had mentioned that your recent dyslexic diagnosis had discouraged to do work and engage with others.

The comic books in your room are the only ones you like to read, complain every time you look at a bigger body of text. You’d been spending most of your time in the library instead of the playground, organising the books on the shelves.

At home Simon can’t get you to shut up, there’s always something coming out of your mouth that he regularly tells you take a breath. So he sits you down before bed and asks you what’s going on.

“Everything’s harder now,” you say, picking at the broken nail in your lap. “I notice it more and it’s so annoying. Why can’t I just be like you.”

Simon drapes his arm over your shoulders and tucks you into his side. “You’re just like me,” he says, squeezing you in his hold.

“I am?” You pull away staring up at him in awe.

“Yeah, you’re bloody stubborn…don’t give up most times. Keep at this and ask for help if you need it kid.”

And it’s like he’s lit something, fuelled something inside of you to combat anything in your way. There’s some frustrated tears and shouted tantrums, but he always reminds you to ask for help when you feel like that.

Kyle’s more upset than angry as he sits in the car on the driveway. He’s just picked you up from school for fighting, you haven’t said a word nor have you explained why you punched a kid bigger than you. No your face scrunched up, knuckles scraped and resting in your lap. The teachers didn’t see what happened on the playground, so it’s a case of he said, she said. You won’t talk though, which makes you the bad kid.

“Come on, poppet. Can’t stick up for you if you don’t tell me what happened. I’m on your side.” He says, shifting in the front seat and leaning into the back towards you. “They push you?”

You were a little smaller than some of them, an easy target if they didn’t know who your dad was.

“They called me dumb, said I was slow.” A little pout on your lips and brows furrowed.

And Kyle listens to you as you tell him about how the teacher made you read in front of the whole class - something that had been agreed they wouldn’t force you to do. How you stumbled over the words, the kids muffling their sniggers and making fun of you in the playground. How you warned the one kid to shut up.

“And I hit him, then asked him did I stutter?”

Kyle’s proud of you for sticking up for yourself, you’d warned them and they still stepped over your boundaries so he’s not going to punish you for it. Just going to remind you that violence isn’t always the solution as now you’re the one suspended from school. He’ll talk to your teachers and get it sorted out.

Johnny can’t understand why he’s being called into the headmasters office again for the second time this week. He walks into the reception area and you’re sitting in one of those awkward plastic chairs with your head hung low.

Something about disrupting the class, refusing to read aloud and not handing in your homework. It’s been a rough couple months since your dyslexia diagnosis and you’re too clever using it as an excuse to neglect your school work. The youngest of four it’s easy for you to go under radar, but now Johnny is on your case and checking anything school related.

The headmaster drones on about your three older siblings and how they were a great addition to the school. Eldest even setting a new school record for test results. Johnny can see the sag of your shoulders as it’s said, he knows you’ve got big shoes to fill and knows you’re different, all his kids are.

Johnny drives the long way home, glancing at you in the rearview mirror in the back. “I don’ expect ya’ to be like them,” he says, trying to catch your gaze in the reflection.

“Not smart enough anyways,” you mumbled, arms crossed tightly over your chest and head turned to the trees flitting past the window.

“Eh! Look at me,” Johnny snaps and you do. “You’re smart in other ways, just want you to try. Alright?” And it’s true you’re a whizz at connecting wires with Johnny whenever he’s trying to fix something, you even remember the name of every tool in the garage and its use. There’s just other things you have to work harder at.

“Yeah, Da’. I’ll try.”

🤌 there might be mistakes/errors due to dyslexia lol - Leya

[thechaotictheoryy]

Winterfall.

summary: Yunho doesn't know when the last time he didn't feel so much loneliness. You also experienced the same thing causing you to run away from home. What happens when the two of you meet in a small restaurant in the cold winter month of December, discovering that loneliness isn't forever.

pairing: reader x non-idol! Yunho

genre: (18+ minors dni), romance, smut, situational and emotional loneliness, strangers to lovers.

word count: 4,827.

warnings: deep conversation, talks of extreme loneliness, crying, Yunho is really sweet, making out, soft dom! yunho, dry humping, unprotected sex (don't do this lmao), oral sex (both receiving) fingering, slight hand kink, pet names (good girl, pretty girl, etc.), slightly slow sex, creampie, cockwarming.

song rec: Chroma Drift by Plave and Just For Two by Jey.

The snow was so crisp and white as Yunho made his way down the street. It was like any other night when he left the office, it was close to midnight and there were few people still walking around. Yunho’s stomach kept growling since the last thing he ate was banana and some pretzels for lunch. He knew his roommate and best friend Mingi would scold him for that later since they worked in the same place but Mingi got off a little early today.

The familiar sign of Yunho’s favorite restaurant came into view. It was a simple hole in the wall place that he had found his freshman year of college when he moved to Seoul from Gwangju. It was ran by an old Chinese-Korean couple who moved to Seoul in the late 80s and they were really famous for their seafood jjampong. Yunho hadn’t been there in about two weeks now since work was driving him crazy but it was Saturday and he always ate there every Saturday, mostly by himself but sometimes with Mingi or some co-workers. As much as an extrovert Yunho was, loneliness always consumed him. 

Even with friends, his loneliness yearned for something that he couldn’t put into words and he felt bad about it. Mingi always tried to help him out but all his attempts seemed to fail because even when Yunho was physically present… he wasn’t mentally present. 

Yunho opened the door to the restaurant and the aroma of noodles and sour kimchi hit his nose. He loved this smell and he became rather cozy to him as weird as it may seem. 

“Ya! Where have you been?” Ms. Jung, one of the owners, yelled at him as soon as she saw him. 

“I’m sorry Ms. Jung, work has been consuming me” He chuckled. 

“Mhm, well have a seat and I’ll have Riku whip up a fresh bowel for you”

Yunho nodded, making his way to a table and sitting. He noticed Ms. Jung walked over to a girl in the back and handed her more kimchi while rubbing her head before walking away. He raised his eyebrow a little in curiosity. He had never seen you here before in all his 6 years of coming here. He practically knew most of the people who walked in and out this restaurant so how could he have missed you? 

“That’s Y/N” Ms. Jung said, breaking Yunho out of his thoughts and placing his bowl of hot noodles in front of him. “She just moved to Seoul a few weeks ago from Jinju,” she sighed. 

“Why the sigh?” 

“Mm, it’s not my business to tell but just know she doesn’t have the most fond memories of everything there which is why she moved up here” 

Yunho hummed and started eating his noodles. Ms. Jung smiled at him and patted his head before walking back to the kitchen. The restaurant seemed to empty out a little within the next fifteen minutes. Yunho was sitting there eating and looking through some emails on his phone. He caught himself looking in your direction a few times, more than he would like to admit.

One thing was that you were beautiful in his eyes. Too beautiful honestly for someone like him but that’s just what he thought. 

You also did the same without his knowledge, you were glancing at him a lot. To you, he was way out of your league. Someone so tall and handsome like him would never be interested in someone like you especially with how broken you were inside. Loneliness was destined to find you, just like your parents wished on you.

You moved here from Jinju to escape everyone. Your family and the terrible ex you dated for three years that you recently broke up with over eight months ago. You never had the best relationship with your parents because of high expectations they had for you, the blur definitely increased when you went and graduated from art school instead of going to a four year university. The stain in your relationship with them caused you and your little sister to also distant from each other. There was no hate from either of you but because she was being the child your parents wanted you to be, they glorified her more so it made you shut down. 

Your toxic relationship with your on and off boyfriend Jeonghan didn’t make it any better. The constant fights and cheating from his end just for him to apologize and make it so easy for you to come back took a mental toll over you. You knew you shouldn’t have ended it after the first time he degraded you and cheated but you hated being alone. You finally ended it when all your emotions boiled over and you leashed out on him. You knew the relationship was making you toxic and depressed plus the bad relationship with your parents so you decided to move three hours away to Seoul. 

You heard a chair move and you looked up. Yunho walked to the counter and handed Mr. Jung his bowel, he tried to pay for it but Ms. Jung kept insisting that it was on the house so he left something in the tip jar while they still scolded him. It made you smile a bit and you automatically knew he had to be coming here for a while for them to act like that towards him. As Yunho made his way out, you and him made slight eye contact which made him slightly bow at you with a small smile and you bowed a little at him. 

The bells rang on the door as he walked back out into the winter snow. 

Little did he know that his small gesture towards you made warmth flow through your heart. 

A week passed till Yunho found himself back in The Jungs’ restaurant again. This time it was empty except for the two older men who were almost  finished with their bowels at a table near the back. He turned his head and saw you eating near the window. You didn’t notice him yet but he smiled a little, walked to a table near the register. As on queue, a hot bowl of seafood jjampong was in front of him with pickled radish. Work really has been stressing him out and Mingi bringing home random hook ups when he was trying to catch up on sleep didn’t help. 

“She’s been looking for you,” Ms. Jung said quietly, walking next to him. 

“Mm, why?”

“Who knows, I just always look towards the door every time she’s here then gets a little disappointed by closing time. I think you should talk to her” 

She walked away before Yunho could tell her that would be impossible. It was impossible because of how stunning you were and he would make a complete fool of himself. Yunho hasn’t been with someone in years and you deserved someone who didn’t drown in his work to cure somewhat of his loneliness. Yunho had looked in your direction again and saw you were gone. He didn’t even notice that you had left but he let out a sign, finishing up his bowel. 

He thanked The Jungs and left for the journey to his apartment. It was very cold tonight and the wind was blowing slightly to add on. He wrapped his scarf around his neck a little tighter as he walked. A few blocks down as he passed the park, he heard someone crying and paused. His eyebrows realized and he slowly walked, eyes searching for the person who was crying. He saw a figure on the bench and made his way over, he felt very bad because the cries were like heartbreaking sobs. 

“Are you okay?” He asked as he approached. You turned your head slowly to look up at him and his eyes widened as he realized who you were. 

“I’m fine,” you looked down and sniffed. 

You heard a bag drop and the bench become a little heavier with weight. You turned your head a little and saw Yunho sitting but looking straight, crossing his arms. 

“You have to share but it’s dark and I can’t let a girl sit out here alone” 

Your chest felt that warmth go through it again. You knew he was only doing as a good person but something about him made the winter not feel so cold tonight. You looked straight and sighed, sniffling. You both sat in silence for about ten minutes till you decided you could speak without breaking down. 

“I.. I just got a call from my parents that my sister passed to get into a college in America” 

“Oh that’s great, isn’t it?”

“Not exactly,” you sighed. “My parents called to praise her and tell me how useless I was to them. They were glad when they heard I moved away so they wouldn’t have to deal with their failure anymore” 

“That’s horrible, I’m sorry” Yunho said. You looked at him and saw concern in his eyes, it shocked you just a little bit because you never saw that from anyone in your life. 

“It’s nothing new but what's upsetting is the fact they sent me three million won and told me to stay out their life,” you teared up. 

You felt yourself about to break down again until felt around you and the warmth from a strong chest. It took you a minute to realize Yunho was hugging you. He also didn’t know what came over him but seeing such a pretty girl like you in tears and being degraded and pushed away like you were nothing made him sad with an overwhelming feeling of rage but he didn’t want you to notice. He couldn’t believe someone could do this to their daughter. Once you seemed to calm down a little, he pulled away and you could see his ears were a bit red. 

Cute. 

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t–”

“It’s okay I needed that” you smiled. 

“I’m Yunho by the way, should have said my name first” he awkwardly rubbed his neck. 

“Y/N” you nodded. 

“It’s freezing and you should get inside” he stood up. “Let me walk you home” 

“It’s okay” 

“I insist and I would feel terrible if something happened to you” 

You eventually agreed and you both set off to your apartment complex. There was small talk on the ten minute walk there, just about where he was from and where you both worked. You weren’t surprised when he said he worked for a tech company, he just looked the type to do so. That also explained why you always see him at the restaurant so late but he also learned that you worked at a cafe that closed around 9pm which is why you were always at the restaurant late also. 

You two made it in front of your building and he wished you a nice night and started to walk away. You didn’t want him to leave just yet so you said something that the last person who heard broke your heart into pieces.

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” 

He turned and looked at you, a little shocked. 

“Um.. are you sure? We just met” 

“I’m sure” you smiled. 

Your smile was going to be the death of him. 

He followed behind you as you walked up the stairs to your apartment and looked away when you put in your code to get inside. Once he stepped inside, the smell of cinnamon hit his nose. He looked around after taking off his shoes and scarf. Your home was cozy and clean, if anyone came here they would feel right at home. 

“You can go sit in the living room, I’ll be right there” you walked into the kitchen. Yunho slowly walked into the living room and sat on your couch. He noticed your bookcase filled with tons of books and CDs, he smiled at it. He also noticed your blank canvas on the counter with an apron with paint stains all over it. 

You walked in with two shot glasses and a case of soju with two beers, setting it on the table. He gulped at the sight and you could feel his nervousness. 

“We don’t have to drink all of it, I just felt lazy to keep walking back and forth” you reassured him, sitting beside him. 

“Okay, sorry it’s been a while since I've been alone with a girl” He regretfully admitted. “I know that sounded pretty lame” 

“Not at all” you shook your head, pouring both shot glasses with soju. You gave him his glass and bumped it with yours, both of you taking the shot together. 

“You live alone?”

“Yeah I can’t do the whole roommate thing” 

“Lucky,” he chuckled. 

“You have one?”

“Mhm, my best friend Mingi. We met back in middle school and wouldn’t trade him for the world but sometimes he can be a bit much” 

“Can’t all best friends be?” you both laughed at that. 

Your laugh was like a hidden melody that he wanted to keep hearing. Seeing you smile was something he hoped he got to see you do more if this night turned out on a good note and he left here as your friend because he knew you needed one. 

“Do you have a best friend?” He asked but by the look on your face after you let the question settle and honestly thought he shouldn’t have asked. 

“No, I was always a loner and people who became my friend only used me in the end” You took another shot and sipped some beer with it, looking out your window. Yunho looked at another shot also and sighed a little. 

“We have to make new memories in your life here” 

“We?” you looked at him. 

“You know?” He blushed a little. “We could be friends and I could introduce you to some of my friends, they are bit annoying but they grow on you I promise” 

He was very cute to you, rambling. You don’t know if you could possibly get close to other people again. All the trust in you was almost gone and never to return. Your family betrayed you, the man you thought you would marry someday made you feel worthless, and all the fake friends who didn’t care if you were alive or not. 

“I don’t know, I probably wouldn’t fit in and my lack of trust might cause me to be distant” 

“You can trust us”

You stared at him and he stared at you. You know you never really took in how tall and handsome he was, he really looked like he could be in someone's magazine. His broad shoulders and long legs, his big brown eyes, his lips that looked so soft to the touch, and his hands…. Wow he had huge hands. 

“Yunho?”

“Mm?”

“Have you ever felt lonely?” 

“All the time” He crossed his arms. 

“When did it start?” 

“Mm, probably not till I hit college. My relationship with my parents was a little rocky but we got along till I hit college then it felt like we started talking less but I didn’t really have much to say anymore… I think that’s why I had a few flings in college to help me cope a bit with being lonely. I tried to go on dates, I just couldn’t feel anything or no one really seemed worth dealing with” 

Emotional and situational loneliness is what Yunho felt and you were also the same. Maybe him finding you sobbing your eyes out wasn’t such a bad outcome because you were still in presence, soaking it in. He poured another shot and downed it right away like it took him a lot to even express that to you. Yunho wasn’t one to open up to people too quick but you made him.. comfortable. 

“How about you?” He asked, hesitantly. 

You sipped some of your beer and told him about your ex-boyfriend plus the relationship with your family. He listened carefully and every detail made him feel sad because you don’t deserve how lonely you are. You felt like he was going to say he was sorry but you didn’t want to hear any more sorrys from him because nothing is his fault for how you were. 

“I do have a question”

“Mm?” you raised an eyebrow. 

“If your trust is so low, why did you invite me in?” 

You blinked at him then looked down, starting to blush. With the amount of alcohol you were consuming you felt you couldn’t hide anything but you also were embarrassed that you craved him so much that you invited him in on impulse. You took another shot and hissed at the small burn. 

“I just find you.. interesting, also you sat with me so this is just like me repaying you” 

“Mm, okay” He finally opened his beer, taking a gulp. 

You didn’t know why you felt so warm like yes it was somewhat the alcohol but also the way Yunho kept looking at you with low lid eyes even though it was just from the shots made you feel some type of way. 

You really really wanted to kiss him. 

“You can,” he said. 

“Huh?” 

“You said you wanted to kiss me” He chuckled. 

“I-I didn’t mean to” you felt the blush start to creep up everywhere. 

“So you don’t want to?” He moved a little closer. 

You looked at him and he was so much closer than you anticipated that you could smell the mint mixed with soju and beer on his breath. You looked at his lips then back to his eyes, his hand found your cheek and rubbed it. With slight hesitation, you leaned forward and kissed him. He kissed back, letting out a sigh like he had been waiting for this and you could help but smile into it. His tongue poked your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, letting him in. His tongue explored every corner, rolling onto your tongue. You moaned a bit, gripping the couch trying to ground yourself. 

“You can touch me,” he said against your lips, pecking them repeatedly and voice just a bit deeper. It made your core feel even hotter and you could feel yourself getting wetter. 

“Yunho” You whined a bit as he kept kissing you. 

“Yes, pretty?” 

“I need more” He pulled away slightly, looking at you. His eyes were filled with lust and…desire maybe. It was like you were the only thing that mattered to him right here at this moment. 

Honestly after tonight, Yunho doesn’t know if he can let you go. 

He pulled you on his lap and you straddled him with knees on both sides. He gripped your hips as you pushed your lips back on his. Yunho had never been this forward but it was something about you, he wanted to show you that you deserve happiness and to be loved on even if it’s just for tonight. 

Even if you wake up tomorrow to the snow higher than it was today and decide you don’t want to be around him anymore, at least he was able to show you for the night that you are desired. 

You pulled away to take off your hoodie and shirt to come off with it, that left you in a black lace bra that made Yunho’s dick twitch. You unhooked your bra, letting your boobs fall and he immediately took a nipple in his mouth, worshipping while pulling on the other. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, it had been a long time since you been touched like this so you were super sensitive everywhere. He licked around your nipple, trailing up to your neck. 

Sucking.

Biting. 

You rolled your hips down on his lap and it made him groan softly. You were driving him mad and he wanted to take his time with you but he didn’t know how long he could keep going without him being inside of you. You pushed him back a little, climbing down and spreading his knees apart. 

“Oh fuck” He said in a whisper. This sight of you was making his head spin. You slowly unbuttoned his dress pants and pulled them down along with his boxers. Your eyes widened at his size, he was the biggest you ever seen. 

“You can handle it, right pretty girl?” 

You blushed at that, nodding. You softly held his dick with both hands because he was super thick and slowly started to pump. His reaction made your arousal even higher, you took him in your mouth as much as you could. He let out a low groan and his hand resting on the back of your head as you kept bobbing up and down. 

“Oh f-fuck” His eyes rolled back a bit before he looked at you. You looked up at him as you stunk down, taking him deeper but trying to make sure you don’t gag. His hand gripped your hair a little as he trembled, you could tell he was reaching his point but you didn’t want him to cum just yet, not from this. You pulled off, stroking him and he let out a small whine. 

“W-Why?”

“I would prefer it better if you cum while inside me” you smiled innocently at him. 

Yunho groaned lowly, standing up and picking you up bridal style. You blushed a bit and was a little shook from him manhandling you but you pointed to your room. He kissed you while walking to your room, opening the door slowly so he wouldn’t drop you. He laid you on your back on your queen sized bed. You sat up on your elbows as he took off his button up and you started to drool a little at the sight of his toned stomach and his broad shoulders. 

And my god you couldn't wait for his large hands to touch you again.

Yunho was always a little self conscious about his body because he wasn’t that muscular and didn’t have abs but the way you were looking at him, he knew that didn’t matter to you. He laid in between your legs after kicking off his pants and boxers, he kissed you deeply and his fingers made their way down to your sweatpants. 

“Is this okay?” He said against your lips. You nodded and he kissed down your chest to your stomach as he pulled down your sweats along with your panties. He threw them on the floor and moved down, kissing your pelvic bone before making eye contact with your wet lips. He moaned at the sight and you spreaded out your thighs more to give him more room, your gesture made him want to combust. 

“You’re so wet” he ran his finger down your folds then looked at you. “All of this for me?”

“All of it,” you nodded. 

Yunho smirked at that a little, testing the waters and pushing one finger inside of you. You gasped and threw your head back against the pillow. Yunho’s finger was long and kind of thick so it stretched you out a little and he immediately found the spongy spot inside of you. His mouth found your clit, licking it up and down while pushing another finger in. 

“Oh god, Y-Yunho” you moaned loudly. He hummed, the vibration going straight to your clit. He pumped his fingers a little faster and harder, hitting that sweet spot over and over again. You felt that tight knot in your stomach and it was ready to let go. He pulled his fingers out and licked over your pussy one time before moving back and kissing you, making you taste yourself. You moaned a little and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

Yunho grabbed his dick, pumping it a little before sliding it in between your folds to lubricate it. You moaned at the feeling and squirmed a little when his tip would bump into your clit. 

“Are you sure about this?” He asked. 

“A little too late to be hesitant considering how far we have come Yunho” you giggled at him. 

“I-I know. I mostly talking about the no condom part” 

“I’m on a pill and clean, I’m okay with it” you reassured him, pecking his lips. 

He nodded and slowly pushed into you, knocking the air out of your lungs as he filled you up. He moans as he continues, finally bottoming out. He paused so you could adjust to his size, he didn’t want to hurt you by any means. 

“Y-You can move”

He pulled out till his tip was just in and pushed back in a little harder. You let out a little scream at that and gripped his back, he moved at a slow yet deep pace. You could feel all the ridges and veins on his dick and it just made you wetter. 

“God you’re so perfect. Taking me so well like a good girl” He said in your ear. 

“Y-Yunho” you whimpered. 

“What? You like when I tell you how good you are for me, pretty girl?” He licked your ear, moving at a faster pace. 

So pretty. 

So perfect. 

You deserved to be loved like this all the time. 

His words were making you close to the edge but also close to crying. Your ex never talked you through it like this, he never made you feel wanted like this. You felt the tears start to spill over and Yunho looked at you with concern, he started to slow down his pace.

“N-No, keep going” you gripped his back. “Please, I need it I need you Y-Yunho”

“You got me baby” He moved deeper and harder. 

“God you’re so deep” you moaned. You felt that band snap in you and your orgasm crushed into you like a tidal wave. Yunho kissed you through, lifting your leg around his hip to push deeper. The overstimulation immediately kicked in and you loved it. 

“F-Fuck” 

“Can you give me one more pretty? I’m so close I need you clench around my dick like that one more time” 

He started to pump faster into you and you could feel all of him in your guts, it made you whimper and claw at his back but it felt so damn good that your second orgasm was creeping up faster than you anticipated. 

“Y-Yunho” 

“I got you, let go baby. You deserve this beautiful” He kissed your temple as you let go for the second time and he followed behind, stilling in you then moving a bit to carry you through both your highs. He was about to pull out till you locked your other leg around his waist. 

“Hold me for a while please” you buried your head in his neck. He smiled a little and nodded, repositioning you both so he didn’t slip out of you but you were now laying on his chest as he laid on his back. 

The birds chirping and sunlight coming through your window woke you up. You groaned and stretched your body out, you tried to feel for Yunho but just felt the coldness of the sheets. You set up in a panic and noticed you were in a large t-shirt and you didn’t feel sticky. 

You got out of your bed and walked into the living room, there was no sign of him and his stuff was gone. You sighed and sat on your couch, you knew it was all too good to be true.

You turned your head to the door as you heard a code being put in and the door opened up with Yunho holding a tray with two coffees and a bag of food. You teared up a little bit as he walked over after slipping off his shoes. 

“Are you okay?” He quickly put the food and drinks down, pulling you into a hug. 

“I thought you just up and left me” you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“Never pretty” He rubbed your head and you looked up at him. He flashed you a smile then pecked your lips. 

“Don’t scare me like that” You punched him playfully. He chuckled and sat down beside you, handing you a coffee. 

“Sorry I didn’t want to wake you up but I ran back to my place to change clothes then I thought you might be hungry once I got back. I should have left a note” 

“It’s okay, the coffee saved you” you sipped some more. He laughed and pulled out an egg and cheese breakfast sandwich and handed it to you. 

“So does that mean you want to see me more?” He asked. 

“Yeah” you blushed. “Do you want to see me more?”

“I don’t think I can ever let you go Y/N” 

Who knew someone like him would want someone like you in this cold winter? 

[angellcvkes]

𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 - 𝘰𝘵8 ౨ৎ

౨ৎ

pairing : boybsf!ot8 + fem!reader

a/n : these are headcannons of having stray kids as boybestfriends ! these are my first headcannons ! hope you guys enjoy ! :D !

౨ৎ

bang chan

your unofficial therapist

always checks in with “have you eaten?” or “how are you really?”

makes playlists just for you depending on your mood

gives the warmest hugs, the kind that make everything quiet for a second

walks you home no matter how late it is

if anyone messes with you, he won’t even yell—he’ll talk to them, calmly, and somehow that’s scarier

sends you voice memos at 2am like, “yo i had this idea for a song, listen”

lee know (minho)

teases you like it’s his job

but secretly keeps an eye on you at all times

will insult you while handing you your favorite drink

“you look like a mess. here’s your matcha.”

lets you babysit his cats but only after a whole background check

gives surprisingly thoughtful advice when you’re sad

if someone hurts you, he won’t talk—just stares them down until they leave the room

changbin

your gym hype man and your post-breakdown cuddler

texts you “drink water or i’ll fight you” daily

flexes in selfies just to make you laugh

lets you sit on his back while he does pushups for fun

will destroy anyone who insults you, no hesitation

also brings you snacks because “you looked like you needed sugar”

cries with you during emotional k-dramas but denies it every time

hyunjin

dramatic and emotional soulmate

sends you 15 tiktoks in a row at 3am

insists on doing your makeup for fun

calls you “bestie” but holds your hand when you’re anxious

gets angry for you before you even process it yourself

once threatened a stranger with just a raised brow and a perfectly timed hair flip

also insists on taking candid photos of you “because you’re art”

han

literal chaos in a human body

always down for impulsive food runs at midnight

calls you while grocery shopping because he “forgot what humans eat”

turns every serious convo into a joke but will dead-serious fight your demons

wrote you a rap once when you were sad. it was terrible. you cried anyway.

lets you vent for hours and only says “do you want me to beat them up or hug you first?”

felix

the sunshine protector

gives you forehead kisses and warm cookies

always notices when you’re not okay—even if you say you are

lets you wear his hoodies and acts like it’s no big deal

if someone makes you cry, he’ll be so quiet and soft-spoken... until he’s not

you’re the only one he shares his most vulnerable thoughts with

believes in your dreams more than you do sometimes

seungmin

dry humor king, roasts you all day long

but also shows up when no one else does

you could call him at 4am and he’d be like, “ugh... what happened?” but he’d come

helps you study, but bullies you if you get answers wrong

always remembers the small things you say, even when you forget you said them

secretly checks your location just to make sure you got home safe

would knock out anyone who talks down to you, then deny it later

i.n (jeongin)

innocent chaos, but would bite someone for you

acts like he’s your annoying little brother, but gets super protective real fast

sends you memes instead of actual emotional support

gives the best random hugs

asks you for advice on everything, then goes and does the opposite

once tried to threaten someone on your behalf but tripped mid-sentence

still insists it was “intimidating”

౨ৎ

xoxo, elle.

[aldisobey]

HE IS RISEN

Here to share some of my favorites with you from the first two bits. It caught the moooood tonight. This morning. Its my friday. Below because obnoxiously long? You're warned

Well, as immediately as whatever was living on his gloved hands would allow. He often had to let it go through the voicemail the first time as he divested himself of gloves, but there was almost always an immediate second call.

Storytelling masterwork. Look at the character building. Look at all the information we get. A glimpse at the work he does, the urgency of the previous nannies. I love stuff like this.

The other was an incident involving Johanna the cat, which resulted in Emmrich talking her through the process of dismantling the basement drop ceiling.

Here it is again. That world and character building. We get Johanna the cat. We get Rook and Emmrich being pretty capable as as a team too, or maybe I just hate audio instructions. Also cat shenanigans.

Rook had offered insight into what such a partnership might be.

The way I can feel a tiny heartbeat in my throat. Dangerous thoughts sir.

But then, that thought veered too closely to something that Emmrich had spent a great deal of time trying to ignore over the last six month

Ah he knows. But circling round it. Has that peace to think. The insight to want such perhaps?

He couldn’t be blamed, therefore, for answering the phone with a hurried and abrupt prompt of, “What’s happened?”

And all that build up and charcter leads to such a heavy drop, and a deep knowing of his thoughts without having to spell them out in moment

“What’s wrong?” he asked, standing immediately to gather his things.

Few words heavy emotin. This paints the deep worry and concern. I live for it.

there was an odd quality to her voice—stifled, as though with congestion. She’d been experiencing no such ailment this morning at breakfast, when she’d come in from her apartment..."Oh dear," tutted Emmrich

You pepper the world building so perfectly. Now we now their living situation, their schedule, how aware he is how attentive she is, how they both might. Oh dear is alright Rook's having a medical emergency but skirt aaaaaaa. And the mug!!!

Minanter River the previous afternoon and likely wouldn’t surface until she’d gleaned the name of the man’s tax adjuster from the color of his liver.

More workd building more character building shile moving scrne along you do see how fuckin well balanced this is don't you

He comforted himself with it as he sprinted towards the parking garage, open suit jacket flailing behind him.

I just like this mental image. Pause here and watch him run a bit.

“You’ll be alright, my dear,” Emmrich said. “Where’s Manfred?”

AAAAAA the pause was worth it. Made that my dear SLAP

“That’s quite fine, darling. Breathe—slow, deep. You’ll hear the door open in a few minutes. It will be a neighbor coming to take Manfred. I don’t want you to get up. I’ll come find you when I get home.”

A DARLING THE SLOW THE DEEP A HALL OF FAME and just lay down he'll come find here??! Its wild over here!?

Nonetheless, he kept the touch as perfunctory as possible—a brief, chaste touch to the very apple of her kneecap.

He might tooo direct the preciseness of it. Thinkin a bit much about it him.

He’d nearly tried to convince her to let him carry her to the car.

Such a simple sentence. Having me grinding my teeth.

He made himself veer away from those thoughts when he realized that it was his own bed he was imagining tucking her into.

ITS ALL SO DOMESTIC wait i get it enlightenment later

“So you must be Mrs. Volkarin,” said Reldevar immediately, holding out a hand for Rook to shake.

Bless you Dr

“Your husband’s got it in one, Rook.

St. Reldevar I'm lighting candles in your honor. How he stayed silent snd not beat red. That strained smile oh he is GOIN through it

sort of car-crash impulse. It happened very quickly, and he couldn’t quite make himself look away;

This entire paragraph is simply wild i am. Its just a butt. Its just a man looking at a butt. Why cant I turn away something is wrong here

Emmrich floundered for his own self-control.

And then the

Rook tossed her head in Emmrich’s direction, seemed to almost wink.

I love you Rook you know EXACTLY what youre up to. I love you for it.

"Yes,” Emmrich murmured. “I can certainly do that.”

Ooh no look at the time intermission for me. I love this story. I'll read it again.

Nanny AU? Nanny AU.

Emmrich was somewhat used to receiving panicked phone calls at work. The nanny situation with Manfred had been tumultuous for quite some time—there had been a year or so there where Manfred had burned through nannies like a fire through kindling. Four professionals had come and gone, and Emmrich had learned that very few things were sacred when one had an overly precocious genius-level three-year-old at home; especially one’s work hours. He’d taken to answering the phone immediately upon feeling it vibrate in his back pocket. Well, as immediately as whatever was living on his gloved hands would allow. He often had to let it go through the voicemail the first time as he divested himself of gloves, but there was almost always an immediate second call.

That was, until Rook.

In the six months since hiring her, Emmrich had only received two phone calls at work. Rook seemed to almost pathologically respect Emmrich’s working hours, and only called during utmost emergencies. The first, only a week into the current arrangement, had been to inform him that Manfred had vomited at school and she needed him to call the school and give them her information so that she could pick him up. The other was an incident involving Johanna the cat, which resulted in Emmrich talking her through the process of dismantling the basement drop ceiling.

Rook’s respect of his work hours was one of the many reasons why Emmrich had come to deeply appreciate her presence in his life—aside from her positive influence on Manfred, of course, and her skill in helping to nurture and educate him. Emmrich had known, of course, that single parenthood was an undertaking not to be taken lightly, and he would certainly never regret the decision to create his little family, but the lack of a partner in the endeavor had rankled at times. Rook had offered insight into what such a partnership might be.

But then, that thought veered too closely to something that Emmrich had spent a great deal of time trying to ignore over the last six months.

In any case, the dropoff in sudden calls had allowed Emmrich to reclaim a piece of his own sense of peace that he hadn’t even realized had gone missing. He’d at least stopped walking into work while wondering what unplanned issues would arise during the day.

On the other hand, he now knew that on the occasions that his phone did ring at work—with Rook’s particular ringtone to indicate to him that it was her calling—it was truly an emergency.

He couldn’t be blamed, therefore, for answering the phone with a hurried and abrupt prompt of, “What’s happened?” when Rook’s ringtone pierced the calm and quiet of his office on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Manfred’s fine,” she said immediately, prompting yet another rush of gratitude from him—she was intuitive that way. The relief flooded back out of his system, however, when Rook followed it up with, “I’m really sorry to bother you, Emmrich, but I think I need to go to the hospital, so you should probably come home.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, standing immediately to gather his things. On a handful of occasions, he’d been summoned home to take over care if a nanny had some unforeseen event—issues with their own childcare, sudden mid-day illness, and on one occasion an on-the-spot resignation. That had been a memorable and unfortunate day.

A medical emergency was a new and horrifying occurrence.

“Manfred crawled under the hedgerow and I had to chase him through the field behind the house,” Rook said, and there was an odd quality to her voice—stifled, as though with congestion. She’d been experiencing no such ailment this morning at breakfast, when she’d come in from her apartment in the guesthouse and helped him clean up the carnage of Manfred’s oatmeal. She, herself, had smelled of strawberries. Her skirt had fluttered just a little too high as she ran down the driveway to hand him his forgotten travel mug as he ducked into his car.

“Oh dear,” Emmrich tutted, locking his office behind him as he swept into the hallway. He made the split-second decision to simply text Johanna—the person, not the cat—that he’d had a family emergency and would follow up with her about the day’s cases at a later time. Johanna was unlikely to notice his absence, as it was; she was elbows-deep in some unfortunate soul pulled from the Minanter River the previous afternoon and likely wouldn’t surface until she’d gleaned the name of the man’s tax adjuster from the color of his liver.

“And he’s fine,” Rook reiterated, as though she genuinely thought that that was still his major concern after she’d told him that she was intending to seek emergency medical attention for something that Emmrich’s very own three-year-old had subjected her to. “But there was deathroot? Growing in the field? And I’m super allergic. Usually I just break out in hives, but there was so much of it, and I was wearing a sundress, and anyway I’m having trouble breathing—"

“Do you have an epi-pen?”

“No,” Rook said, “Like I said—it’s never been this bad before. I think I might have inhaled some of the pollen.”

“Calm down,” Emmrich said, sinking into his medical training and pushing the alarm to the back of his mind. It had been years since his practice had taken its turn towards the deceased, and he was unused to treating living patients, but the knowledge was still there. He comforted himself with it as he sprinted towards the parking garage, open suit jacket flailing behind him. “There should be Benadryl in the master bedroom ensuite. Chew two capsules, open a window and sit down. If you feel your throat closing or start feeling lightheaded, you need to call emergency. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay.” Rook’s voice was faint—less assured than he’d ever heard her.

“You’ll be alright, my dear,” Emmrich said. “Where’s Manfred?”

“I put him in his room with some toys. He’s probably making a mess, but there’s nothing he can hurt himself with and I didn’t trust myself—”

“That’s quite fine, darling. Breathe—slow, deep. You’ll hear the door open in a few minutes. It will be a neighbor coming to take Manfred. I don’t want you to get up. I’ll come find you when I get home.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Rook said, and the fact that this was her token argument showed her state.

“I’ll not let you drive yourself to the hospital in the state you’re in,” Emmrich said firmly. “I’ll be there shortly. Stay calm.”

Rook’s low, mumbled agreement and the tone of the call ending sounded as Emmrich started his car and the phone connected to the sound system. As he peeled backwards out of his assigned parking spot and executed a maneuver of suspect legality to merge summarily onto the roadway, he initiated a second call.

The line picked up immediately, as he suspected it would.

“Myrna,” he said, even before she’d finished her cool, perfunctory Hello? as she answered the phone. “Are you or Vorgoth working from the home office today?”

-0-

“I’m really sorry about all of this, Emmrich.”

For at least the third time since a nurse had led them into this awful little room, Emmrich offered Rook a strained smile and patted her knee. She’d put on leggings before his arrival at the house, probably to cover up the scrapes and bruises from her excursion through the hedgerow and deathroot patch, and his hand met nothing but soft, body-warm cotton. Nonetheless, he kept the touch as perfunctory as possible—a brief, chaste touch to the very apple of her kneecap.

“Don’t apologize, Rook,” he said, shifting restlessly in his plastic chair. Rook was perched in a large vinyl medical recliner, knees drawn up to her chest and face pressed to her own thighs. Her breathing had become slightly less labored in the last hour or so, after he’d arrived at the house to find her sitting on the chaise lounge in the master bedroom reading nook, face ashen and hands fisted into one of his mother’s quilts. He’d nearly tried to convince her to let him carry her to the car.

As her breathing eased, however, she began to itch and the rash worsened—large plaques of urticaria covering a vast swath of her skin. Emmrich kept a careful vigil on the patches, on the color of her lips, looking for any sign of a worsening reaction.

They had her on a pulse oximeter, which was beeping steadily at 74 beats per minute and 99% oxygen saturation—both good signs. A nurse had taken her blood pressure upon their arrival, frowned slightly, and left. Emmrich suspected this to mean that it had been slightly elevated, which was to be expected with the stress of the situation and the antihistamine he’d directed her to take earlier.

They’d been waiting for over an hour for the attending physician.

“I don’t know what’s taking so long,” Rook sighed into her knees, as she itched frantically at a plaque of hives on her shoulder.

“Unfortunately, with your vitals, you’re likely not considered top priority at the moment,” Emmrich murmured.

“I want to go home,” Rook muttered, a tone of abject misery to her voice, and Emmrich wanted nothing more than to fulfill her desire. Take her home, put her to bed and offer her something warm and comforting to drink.

He made himself veer away from those thoughts when he realized that it was his own bed he was imagining tucking her into.

A wholly inappropriate thought to have about one’s live-in nanny, said a voice in the back of his head, which unfortunately sounded too much like Johanna for comfort. You decrepit old popinjay, it added as though to confirm.

Emmrich indulged in a sigh of his own, buried his face in the heel of his hand, and said, “A little longer, darling.” When he realized what he’d said—and he’d used that word earlier as well, hadn’t he?—he looked back up in time to catch an odd, soft expression cross Rook’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wearily. “Habit.”

“I like it,” she whispered. She looked very small, sad and…young sitting there, wrapped around herself in a tense bundle.

Before Emmrich could say or do anything, the curtain of the triage room slid aside. This, of course, was for the best.

“Sigrid?” said the man who’d just arrived—the attending physician, by all indications, given he was wearing the darker blue scrubs that this hospital used to indicate such a role, and Emmrich in fact recognized him as one of the ER physicians he’d had encounters with in his role as medical examiner.

“Yes,” said Rook, though it took Emmrich a moment to remember that yes, that actually was her legal name. The one she never used and seemed averse to anyone else using, either. To evidence this, she added, “Though, I go by Rook—it should be in my paperwork as my preferred—”

“Oh, it does say that,” said the physician, tugging a rolling chair several unnecessary feet across the cramped room. He mounted it backwards and tapped his clipboard. “Sorry, I’m still getting used to this whole preferred name thing. Us old dogs have to learn a few new tricks, I suppose. So you’re Rook, she/her pronouns, and who’ve you brought with you today?” He looked to Emmrich, furrowed his brows, and said, “Oh, Doctor Volkarin. I almost didn’t recognize you out of the morgue.”

Emmrich offered a brief, wane smile. “Doctor Reldevar.”

“So you must be Mrs. Volkarin,” said Reldevar immediately, holding out a hand for Rook to shake.

Oddly, Rook didn’t deny it—she shook Reldevar’s hand, though unsmiling, and offered Emmrich a brief shrug when the good doctor looked back down at his clipboard.

“Oh, sorry, stuck my foot in my mouth again,” Reldevar said, still examining the clipboard, “You kept your maiden name, huh? Lots of women doing that these days. Anyway, Rook, it looks like you’re in today about some breathing trouble?”

“An allergic reaction to deathweed, it would seem,” Emmrich said, taking the burden of speaking away from her—which she offered him a small, grateful smile for behind her knees. “Poor Rook is very allergic, and crawled through a patch this afternoon after Manfred—that is, my son—ran off into the field behind our house. I believe she inhaled some of the pollen and received quite considerable topical exposure. She was badly scraped by the thorns. I directed her to take an antihistamine to stop the worst of the initial reaction, but steroids will probably be necessary to prevent another, worse recurrence of the reaction due to the extent of exposure.”

Reldevar hummed, pursed his lips, flipped through the pages of Rook’s paperwork for a further moment, then snapped his fingers and pointed in Emmrich’s direction. “Your husband’s got it in one, Rook. We’ll fix you up with a steroid injection here in the hospital and we’ll watch you for a little bit to make sure the reaction is going down, and then we’ll send you home with…eh, probably a prednisone prescription and a topical ointment for those hives. How’s that sound?”

“Um, fine?” said Rook, still itching, and Reldevar presented her with his hand to shake again.

“Sounds good,” he said, and leaned over to shake Emmrich’s hand as well. “Take care, Doctor.” He winked. “Take the missus home and give her a day away from the kid, huh? Sounds like he’s a handful.”

Emmrich responded with nothing but a strained smile, and Reldevar took his leave back out the curtain of the triage room.

As the curtain was still swinging, Rook took in a deep breath and said, “I just felt like it was harder to explain the situation—”

“Of course,” Emmrich said, wiggling his hands equivocally in front of himself. “That’s entirely—”

“—and I thought, maybe he’d listen to me if he thought—”

“Oh, absolutely.”

They fell into an odd, awkward silence of the sort that they’d never really had to suffer through. Rook was almost universally easy to talk to, at least so far as Emmrich was concerned, and conversation had always flowed easily between them—whether it had to do with Manfred, various professional conversations that had to take place due to Emmrich’s position as Rook’s employer and de facto landlord, or conversations of a more personal nature.

Rook settled back into the recliner, looking small and tired, and Emmrich could do nothing but reach over to pat her knee again.

It took another half an hour for a nurse to arrive with the promised steroid injection.

“So this needs to go into a large muscle,” said the nurse. “We usually do the muscle in one of your glutes—meaning this area here—” the nurse gestured to her own rear, somewhere in the area where thigh became butt. “If that’s alright with you, I just need you to lift your dress and pull your leggings to the side.”

Rook sighed, but showed no significant reluctance to the idea—even despite Emmrich’s continued presence. He knew, obviously, that this was his cue to excuse himself or at least look away, but he was trapped by some sort of car-crash impulse. It happened very quickly, and he couldn’t quite make himself look away; Rook rose from her chair, pulled her sundress up around her waist and lowered her leggings just far enough to reveal the buttery expanse of one smooth thigh and asscheek. She was clearly wearing very scant undergarments. The only real indication that she was wearing panties at all was the barest peek of a dark purple thong cresting the apple of her hip.

“This might sting a little more than your average flu shot,” the nurse cautioned as she swiped an alcohol wipe onto Rook’s flank. “It’ll ache a bit tomorrow. But once we’re done, you can go home, so that’s good…”

Emmrich became aware of just how hard he’d been clenching his jaw when Rook gasped at the prick of the syringe and his mouth, quite involuntarily, fell open just slightly. He could feel his pulse in his teeth. His legs, crossed over each other in a habitual mannerism, ached from how tensely he was holding himself. Between them, his traitorous prick stirred, intrigued by a breathless sound from a beautiful woman and the sight of her nearly bare ass.

“Oh, shit, you weren’t kidding,” Rook said, fingers visibly whitening on the armrest of the chair she’d bent herself over. “That hurts. Oh, Maker, that fucking burns—”

“Sorry,” the nurse said, genuine sympathy in her voice as she capped the syringe. She dropped it into a nearby sharps container and fastened a piece of gauze over the pinprick of blood now welling up on Rook’s otherwise pristine skin. Emmrich floundered for his own self-control. “Good news is, you’re done! The doctor already sent your prescription over to your pharmacy on file. Your discharge papers are on the table here. Any questions?”

“Oh, I live with a doctor.” Rook tossed her head in Emmrich’s direction, seemed to almost wink. “He’ll take care of me, and I just really want to go home.”

“Medical examiner,” Emmrich said, perhaps a little louder than he’d meant to. Rook had yet to pull her leggings back up all the way—the purple thong abided, teasing him from underneath the hiked-up hem of her dress. “I do have—technically, yes, I’m a medical doctor—"

“Fair enough,” said the nurse, in what was perhaps the politest way possible to say I do not have time for this. To Rook, she added, “Feel better!” and then took her leave to the tune of the curtain rings rattling on the rod and the swish of scrubs.

“Your leggings, my dear,” Emmrich said into the subsequent silence—or, at least, the lack of conversation; the rooms around them were still full of sound. Beeping heart monitors, coughing patients and the tapping of shoes on tile.

“Oh,” said Rook, who in that very moment seemed to remember that her entire hip and most of her right asscheek were uncovered. She pulled them up, wincing at the drag over her recently abused flesh, and sighed into her palm. “Take me home, please?”

“Yes,” Emmrich murmured. “I can certainly do that.”

-0-

Upon walking through the door, Johanna immediately made her discontent at the hour of their arrival known. It was indeed quite significantly past her typical dinnertime, and she was a creature of habit—but Emmrich still considered the unrepentant yowling a bit excessive.

“Oh, hush,” he admonished her, ushering Rook in the door with a hand at the small of her back. She’d deteriorated rapidly on the car ride home—visibly tiring and becoming distressed and impatient with the persistent itching of her skin. She was bright red in places, including her shoulders and arms, and her normally pinned hair had come down in large drapes against her face and the back of her neck. At some point, Emmrich had offered her a discarded cardigan from the backseat, and she now wore it draped around her shoulders. It was gray, a little lumpy, and inspired an incongruous urge of possessiveness to curl itself around Emmrich’s heart every time he glanced at her.

“Rook,” he began as he turned on the foyer light, “It would comfort me greatly if you stayed in the guest room tonight, instead of returning to your flat in the guest house. It’s entirely up to you, of course, but it would ease my mind if—”

“Believe me, Emmrich, the last thing I want to do right now is walk all the way to the guest house,” Rook sighed. Hearteningly, she pulled his cardigan tighter around herself. “I’ll make up the bedroom for myself.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Emmrich said, in almost the tone he used to admonish Manfred when he indulged his more mischievous impulses. “I’ll make up the bedroom and run you a bath. It would be a good idea to remove any remaining material from your skin before you sleep.”

“Emmrich, I can’t let you—” Rook sighed, grunted, and attempted to reach her hand down the back of her shirt to, presumably, scratch at a patch of urticaria on an inaccessible portion of her back. “You’re my—I can’t put you out like that—”

“Nonsense,” Emmrich replied, determined to make that the end of the conversation. He mounted the stairs rapidly, using his superior height to his advantage for once, and he’d already begun filling the guest bathroom tub with nearly-scalding water by the time he saw Rook make her way into the bedroom through the cracked door.

Of the bedrooms in his house, one of them was the master—which featured a full ensuite bathroom with whirlpool tub and generously-sized rainfall shower stall. Manfred’s bedroom was attached Jack-and-Jill style to Emmrich's office via a childproofed bath that featured a toilet with a potty seat installed, child-height vanity and a shower bath strewn with all manner of toys. The fourth bedroom was smallest and therefore had the smallest bathroom—a simple three-quarters bath with only a tub, though it was claw-footed and generous in size. Emmrich knelt on the plush rug and ran the bath, peering through the cracked door and attempting to convince himself not to.

It was unlikely Rook wasn’t aware of his presence in the bathroom—she could hear the water running, and would almost certainly know that he hadn’t left it to run unattended, if only through habit given the current absence of three-year-olds on the premises. Even so, as she was meandering through the room and passing in and out of view, she was shedding clothes.

First the cardigan, which bared the angry rash on her arms and shoulders. Then the shoes and the leggings—when she next wandered by, Emmrich realized that she had scraped her knees up quite badly, likely while pursuing Manfred under the hedgerow. She stood center in the room for a moment (Emmrich drew a hand through the pooling water in the tub and, upon realizing it was scalding hot, switched the faucet to cool for a moment) and pulled the pins out of her hair. Disappeared. When she next came back into view—

Well, the dress had gone, and he discovered that the thong and bra set had a pattern of skulls.

Emmrich finally convinced his eyes downwards. He was unsurprised but nonetheless mortified to find the telltale swell of an erection evident against his inner thigh. He sighed and rubbed some of the cool water across his forehead.

If this woman was a test from the Maker—or something even more esoteric; a challenge to his vows as a physician perhaps? A sudden hurdle for his self-control and dedication to gentlemanliness to overcome?—she was certainly serving her purpose masterfully.

“Emmrich?”

She’d found a robe—fluffy and white, something he’d put in the closet long ago that might have been left behind when a lover made an unceremonious exit from his life. He’d laundered it regularly for years on the off chance that it would find use again, by a paramour or a guest. Emmrich was utterly unsure which of those labels Rook fell under, especially in the moment.

She seemed to almost know what she’d done—he would certainly not go so far as to say the parade in front of the bathroom door had been intentional, but she at least seemed not to care if he’d been watching. She at least seemed content with the idea that he knew the color of her underwear and the shape of the tattoo on her hip.

It was, interestingly, a black bird. A rook, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“Yes?” Emmrich responded, with an only slightly-too-long pause as she stood in the bathroom doorway and he attempted to make his tongue form sounds.

“Do you have any of that oatmeal bath left from when Manfred had HFMD?”

“Oh! I very well may.” Grateful for a reason to flee and collect himself, Emmrich did so. The colloidal oatmeal was in the back of the cabinet in Manfred’s bathroom—half a box left over from Manfred’s recent bout of Hand, Food and Mouth Disease. A disgusting five days of Emmrich’s life which he was not eager to relive.

Manfred’s fingernails were still regrowing.

Luckily, the thought of weeping blisters did wonders for the exorcism of blood from certain areas of the body. When Emmrich returned to the bathroom, his erection had flagged, and he was able to finish running the bath with all of the professional courtesy demanded of his Hippocratic oath and the employee-employer relationship he held with the attractive and berobed woman sitting on the toilet lid.

“Test the water temperature before you get in,” Emmrich cautioned as he turned off the spigot. “I’m afraid I may have run it too hot to start.”

He’d expected Rook to simply agree, or wait until he’d exited the bathroom, or at least simply use her hand to test it. To his incredulity, she immediately slunk over, pulled the hem of the robe above her knee and dipped a toe in.

The color of her nail polish matched her underwear. He did not know why—or perhaps he was just lying to himself—but it was this particular detail that brought his cock instantly, painfully back to full hardness.

He could not stop himself from imagining those toes in his mouth.

“I think I will also start my nighttime ablutions,” he said, perhaps hoarsely—he could not bring himself to care in the moment.

“Sure,” Rook said vaguely, watching the oatmeal swirl in the tub. “Thanks, Emmrich. Oh—would you help me put the ointment on after this? There are places on my back that I can’t reach.”

“Of course,” Emmrich said, feeling like his head would pop off his shoulders.

He put as many doors between himself and Rook as he possibly could. The guest bathroom, the guest room, his own bedroom door and then the door to his own ensuite. He spent a moment against the back of the bathroom door, eyes squeezed shut, talking himself off the edge.

“Oh, fuck it,” he hissed, and tore into his trousers with the furiousness of a man possessed. He stumbled to the shower, removing clothes as he went, and almost stumbled into the shower stall with his socks still on. The cold water did absolutely nothing to soothe his hot skin or boiling blood—as he slid down onto his knees and tilted his head back under the rainfall of the showerhead, he was already stroking himself with a franticness more typically seen in those half his age.

Maker, she made him feel half his age. When she pranced through his kitchen wearing a sundress and a smile. When she poked her head into his study at night to tell him that she’d read his son to sleep, asked him how his day had gone, sat on the settee and talked to him for an hour. When she let him call her darling and pretended to be his wife.

Oh, it was almost too easy to imagine it. To pretend.

He stripped his cock, pictured her hand. Her mouth. Her small breasts in their purple skull-and-lace vesture. The way he would worship her with his hands and mouth. How did she taste, how did she sound, what was the color of her—

He gasped, fingers curled into the tile of the shower floor, and came into the lukewarm water swirling around his knees.

The shame kicked in almost immediately, even as he watched the evidence of his depravity vanish down the drain. He was a man in his fifties, a father, a doctor. This sort of behavior was so completely below him, so completely inappropriate—

But damn, had it felt good. The last three years, since the blessing of Manfred came into his life, he’d allowed himself to become almost completely divorced from his own sexuality. It had been over a year since he’d had sex, and even masturbation had seemed like too much effort most nights. When he did work up the energy to reach a hand down, he did so while conditioning his hair and making lists in his head.

The relief of a true release was almost as stark as the accompanying self-loathing.

 Later, as he carefully rubbed the ointment onto Rook’s back and pointedly did not let himself look beyond the patches of rash he was focusing on, he mumbled, “I want you to know, Rook, that I…value you.”

Rook turned, hair pooled over her shoulder. She was not embarrassed of the fact that her shirt was hanging loosely off her neck, and he could not avoid seeing the peak of one brown nipple.

“I know,” she said, and Emmrich could almost convince himself that she was simply tired, or trusted him as a medical professional, or did not even consider that he might look based simply on his age.

Almost—were it not for the small, satisfied smirk he saw in the vanity mirror as she turned back around.

[kuroposting]

Now, obviously, I don’t think Sebastian knows that this is a trigger. Or that he grabbed his hand in a familiar way the first time, either.

I think it’s symbolic. Yana is constantly drawing hands as analogous to relationships. Sebastian is insecure in his ability to understand the complexities of human emotions and, by extension, his ability to care for Ciel in this arc. He has an idea, but he defers to Takana’s authority on the subject (initially); I’ll make another post about that later. Meanwhile, the crisis of conscience Ciel is experiencing is over his growing camaraderie and dependence on Sebastian, in r!Ciel’s place.

Using Sebastian to attain revenge is one thing, but to stop holding a grudge against him for presumably eating r!Ciel’s soul and shamelessly accepting his attachment to Sebastian and the autonomy that he provides Ciel with, is a severe betrayal. A betrayal of r!Ciel, and of Ciel’s own morals.

Sebastian is at least somewhat aware of this. I’m not totally sure- I think Sebastian is under the impression that Ciel did intentionally sacrifice r!Ciel in his place, and that he took on his identity out of jealousy. He wanted to be heir, and he wanted to marry Lizzy. Sebastian may believe that Ciel regrets doing it and resents Sebastian for being the living proof of Ciel’s wickedness. He wants to force Ciel to confront this aspect of himself and do something about it, but I think he’s slowly come to realize that Ciel isn’t actually to blame, and feels conflicted over his own attachment to him.

These last two panels, by Sebastian’s expression and the black backgrounds isolating the two of them, read to me as if Sebastian is slighted by Ciel’s scolding and lack of gratitude for saving him; something Sebastian is good at and took pride in. It reminds me of his interactions with Will. Even so, it’s apparent to me that he otherwise admires Ciel for being so resistant to the temptation of accepting his comforts, but then he sincerely wants to comfort him. By rejecting Sebastian and maintaining all the loyalty to his brother that he can, Ciel maintains this very unique (“pure”?) form of integrity that Sebas both resents and yet also wishes to maintain himself. Allowing Sebastian to touch will get his master dirty, so he changes his gloves and offers himself again. Unbeknownst to Sebastian, part of the guilt Ciel feels is over him fulfilling r!Ciel’s role as his devout protector and guide. This will have to be elaborated on in a part 2. (will add a hyperlink here when I have it written)

On the other hand, Ciel already believes himself to have already betrayed his brother for being able to benefit from his death whatsoever. This makes him beyond redemption and beyond saving. We have reason to believe that between r!Ciel’s acceptance of his role as first born and Ciel’s illness keeping him holed up in the manor while r!Ciel had fencing lessons and went traveling with their parents, r!Ciel was less innocent than his younger brother. Our Ciel believes himself wicked and weak for having shamelessly accepted their roles, as his role allowed him to be so naive and complacent that he never felt the same responsibly to protect anyone; most notably, r!Ciel. For that, there were consequences.

His powerlessness cost r!Ciel his life and at the cost of his life Ciel was granted the pursuit of living; the ability to help people and bring justice to evils are things only granted at the price of facing the horrific realities of a world that has failed others. Of feeling the weight on your soul when you take on the responsibility of other people that you can fail, responsibility for the failures that are inevitable in pursuit of your goals. Chess is a game of sacrifice.

When Sullivan gave them a chemical shower and performed it as a “purification ritual”, something thematically relevant was happening. Their personal feelings of inadequacy surfaced and they’ve been forced to confront them- though Ciel’s was much more immediate and visceral. His pursuit of Sebastian was an acceptance of himself, that he is worth living for despite what he expressed to Finny. That he accepts the responsibility for his own survival in the face of all who have been sacrificed for his continued existence so far.

Here Sebastian almost seems to reveal the truth of the matter to Ciel, that the ritual was not required to summon him and that it most likely wasn’t even the true intentions of the adults who had committed such evil against him. Demons can appear on a whim, and he repeats as much to Sullivan. On Twitter, Yana said that Ciel was about to ask “did you come on a whim?” but dropped it because it ultimately didn’t matter. She said it wasn’t relevant to the arc iirc, but I disagree lol, It’s at least relevant to the philosophy this manga holds as truth. Ciel wondered if he was already prepared to forfeit his soul for his wish or if Sebastian chose to come to him regardless.

You could wonder if that means that Ciel actually is responsible for sacrificing r!Ciel’s soul (however unintentionally), because that meant that Sebastian never would have eaten him if only Ciel cherished his own soul more.

You could wonder if Sebastian made the decision to take r!Ciel’s soul just to crossover and meet Ciel’s calls completely on his own. You could wonder if Ciel wasn’t prepared to forfeit his soul at all, until he was manipulated and pressured into it by Sebastian.

Who is the blame supposed to fall on? What were Sebastian’s motivations?

You could wonder about any of that, and it doesn’t matter, because the outcome is the same to Ciel. It does not change where they are now. What is done cannot be undone.

[theseinfernalangels]

hellooo i’m not sure if your lil blurb requests are still open but if they are could you do 33 or 38 with bodhi?

38: Whispering, “I love you,” before a chaste, delicate kiss.

“Durran!” A squadmate’s voice rings out from across the gym. “You coming?”

The aforementioned boy blinks once or twice, glancing at the door and then back at you.

“No,” he replies easily. “I’ll catch up.”

“Well, don’t cut it close,” his squadmate chides, pursing her lips. “I don’t want to get in trouble just because you have the hots for a Squad Leader.”

Bodhi grumbles under his breath and turns to face you again, still coaching the First-Years whilst they sparred. He wants to go stand with you so badly, but he also understands how it would look to everyone else: A marked Squad Leader with a marked First-Year clinging to her shoulder — they’d either think you were plotting something or sleeping together, and while Bodhi didn’t mind the latter, he didn’t feel like having people stare at him suspiciously more than they already did.

So, he opts to sit and watch from against the wall, admiring your strict demeanor that he didn’t get to see outside your duties. Barking commands, scolding missteps, studying the fighting First-Years with a critical eye and pointing out their blind spots. Oh, yes; Bodhi likes it when you’re all soft and nice to him, but it’s undeniably hotter when you’re not.

“Time!” You call out after about ten minutes. “Take a water break and breathe. We start again in five minutes.”

You turn and slink over to Bodhi, whose eyes light up as he sees you approach.

“You’re stalking me now?” You quip, cuffing him on his marked shoulder.

He grins but shakes his head. “I had some extra time. I wanted to see you.”

The look that crosses your face is a mix of fondness and exasperation. “Bodhi,” you huff, “you can’t just do that. You go where your squad goes. That’s the rule for First-Years.”

“Sure.” He shrugs. “Because the squad is the heart of the school, and whatever bullshit they said.” He pauses. “What about what’s in my heart, huh?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Alright, little poet. Don’t get all philosophical and romancey on me now. You have to get out of here.”

He pouts, his pretty lips dipping ever so slightly. “But I like being romancey with you,” he protests. “And don’t pretend you don’t like it, either.”

You nod. “That’s fair,” you acknowledge. “But what I don’t like is you trying to bend the rules just to come be with me.”

You leave the last part of your sentence unspoken. As sweet as that is, anyway. 

Bodhi opens his mouth to whine again, but he’s cut off by a yell from outside. “Durran! Get your ass out here now. Don’t make me report you to leadership just because you’re feeling rebellious today. It’d be a damn shame.”

You stiffen, your watchful eyes sharpening at the obvious taunts. Feeling rebellious. It seems like no matter what you or your friends do, you still can’t keep angry cadets off of your backs — especially Bodhi, whose jaw clenches a little. There was no fighting it some days, and this just happened to be one of those days.

You lean towards him, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. “Hey,” you soothe, pressing a kiss right under his eye. “I love you, okay? Get out of here. I’ll come find you later, when things die down.”

The smile that Bodhi shoots you is strained. “Gotcha,” he mumbles, sliding from his place and kissing your forehead. “I miss you, you know.”

Your heart twists as you watch him walk away reluctantly, as if he was considering putting up a fight just to stay.

“I know.” The words are quiet enough that he can’t hear them. “Trust me, I know.”

[crab-people-overlord]

Stan & Kyle. Kyle & Stan.

I’ve written a lot on their differences, but that’s mainly because I often write them paired up, so… I think about these differences a lot. About their dynamic. And when you write them together long enough, you start to notice just how different these two boys are. Not just in behavior, but in how they see the world.

There are plenty of episodes where they clash and argue, even some where they completely drift apart. And yet...  there are even more moments where they come back together. Always.

Because despite everything, they choose each other to be super best friends. Again and again. 

I’ve written about their differences between their neuroticism and how those are completely different (Kyle more internally chill yet externally anxious, yet Stan much more externally chill but internally more depressive and sensitive). And I keep meaning to make a post on here about their differences in Agreeableness when it comes to the Big 5 (something very interesting when comparing the two, which I’ll probably share later on). 

But something I often ask myself is… why are they best friends despite seeing the world so differently? They are SO different in how they process the world, yet canonically they’re ride-or-die best friends, so… why?

When it comes down to it:

Stan is more internal, emotional, disillusioned, cynical. Not good at consistently tying general societal moral issues together, yet great at one-on-one empathizing. His emotions often overwhelm him to the point of inaction, though when he does act, it's from an impulsive and often deeply emotional standpoint.

Kyle is external, he brings the fire- he's morally intense and CONSISTENT about his morals - but he can be terrible at one on one empathizing. He tries to stay ultimately positive about future implications. He’s idealistic. He's organized and consistent about his actions. You can count on him to stand up for what he feels is wrong.

Despite this, it’s clear they both care deeply, just in wildly (and at times flawed) different ways. This causes their core friendship at its best to run heavily on mutual respect, honesty, and loyalty. And at its worst cause massive misunderstandings and dramatic breakdowns.

Kyle brings the fire. Stan brings the calm. Kyle can get Stan to finally fucking act. Stan can help Kyle to take a deep breath and pause. 

When they clash the most: 

Kyle fights the world. He wants justice and group harmony. And he can be selfish from a standpoint of getting preachy and self-righteous, turning things quite black and white and disregarding some perhaps more nuanced views. He’s positive there’s always a moral way forward. And he desperately wants to be seen as an believes he is correct, not just morally, but also logically. When Stan checks out emotionally or becomes nihilistic/selfish? This drives him fucking insane. 

Stan withdraws from the world. He just wants authenticity and inner peace. And he can be selfish from a standpoint of just being… internally selfish lmao. Like he knows what he wants personally, and can zero in on just that, without thinking about, say, why Kyle may be so hurt about Cartman being anti semitic because Stan at times doesn’t care unless it impacts him personally. He doesn’t always show up for the moral crusade, and Kyle notices this. 

Kyle externalizes stress. Stan internalizes it. That contrast causes rifts, but also shows how different kinds of emotional pain can look. Kyle can get pissed off at Stan because Stan doesn’t as consistently demonstrate the same group moral standpoint moral crusading he expects Stan to, and sometimes Stan is so inwardly focused that he doesn’t even consider the impact on the greater group. And Stan can get pissed at Kyle because sometimes Kyle completely misses individualistic points and can be a bit self-righteous while perhaps not being great at 1:1 empathy (at times even getting pissed at Stan’s depression, such as in Raisions and You’re Getting Old/Assburgers). 

But here’s the thing… 

When they respect each other and just let each other be who they are, they both are at their very best. Kyle reminds Stan that the world is worth caring about and that he can get out of his microcosm of himself and focus on the greater group. And Stan reminds Kyle that he doesn’t have to carry it alone, and that sometimes there are some more individualistic factors at play. He shows Kyle what deep emotional empathy can feel like, both on the receiving and giving end.  

They both are emotionally intense, just in different ways. They both are disgusted by injustice - Kyle from a more idealistic standpoint, Stan from a more individualistic/realistic standpoint. They both are quite pragmatic and feel disillusioned at times (often bonding over this feeling of disillusionment). They both can be fucking stupid and basically just be 10 year old kids. Yet they’re both wildly smart beyond their ages and often act as the adults in the wild situations they find themselves in. They both can be selfish, though in different ways.

And yet… they both get each other in ways most people dont; and they are at their best when they don’t ask each other to change themselves while still calling each other out when they need to. They have the same sense of humor; they can banter back and forth in both their immature ways and their more understanding ways; they share a similar wide array of hobbies and will both shred current media to pieces together.

They clash often and yet… they believe in each other. Not in a naive way. Not blindly. But in a ‘I’ve seen you at your worst and still want you around’ kind of way.

They’re equals. Even when they argue. Even when they don’t understand each other. They challenge each other constantly, and still trust each other to come back. That’s not just friendship. That’s earned, forged through fire and still water alike.

They fucking respect the hell out of each other. Kyle may yell at Stan for being too detached, and Stan may side-eye Kyle for moralizing too hard - but when push comes to shove, they instinctively turn to each other first. You can see it, this desperate need for validation from the other, like when Kyle practically begs Stan for moral absolution in crack baby athletic association, or when Stan goes to Kyle as his final lifeline in You’re getting old.

They care deeply about what the other thinks of them above anyone else. And not in a performative way. They want each others approval not because of ego- but because they respect and know the others standards actually means something to them. They want each others judgement not because it’s kind, but because it’s true.

When everything falls apart- when the town loses its mind, when things don’t make sense, when the adults become parodies of themselves- Stan and Kyle keep showing up for each other. they don’t always know how to help, but they try. They’re consistent in their inconsistency, in the way only flawed childhood best friends who’ve grown through chaos can be.

Kyle is the fire. Stan is the still water. Kyle will fight the system. Stan will wonder if the system is even fucking worth fighting for. They both argue, and they sometimes clash, and they are both STUBBORN AS FUCKING HELL. 

And yet… they believe in each other. Not blindly. Not perfectly. But completely.

They challenge each other. Call each other out. Clash hard.

But they also trust each other more than anyone else. Because…

They're equals. They highly depend on each other. They call bullshit on each other without hesitation. They fucking respect the hell out of each other, and they care highly what the other thinks of them. At the end of the day, they depend on each other, and when at their best, they balance each other out.

And that’s why, after everything… 

They’re still super best friends. And they continually choose to be super best friends. 

[andielle]

prologue|chpt. 1|chpt. 2|chpt. 3|masterlist

You and Bucky have shared this relationship for almost a year now. He sleeps with you to relieve stress, you sleep with him to free you from your slight crush on him.But what happens when Bucky breaks the rules of your relationship, and yearns for more?

MODERN! Office AU! Bucky x Reader

chapter 3: amends | 1.5k words | warnings: none!

YOU threw your work bag onto the couch, before throwing yourself onto it. You sunk into the cushions, letting out a satisfied sigh as you finally let your muscles relax.

Your relaxation was interrupted when you heard your phone vibrate in your pocket. You checked, and it was Nat. “Hey Nat,” you greeted her through the call.

“He was staring at you like a piece of meat!—I mean, he does have a staring problem, but this takes the cake,” Nat exclaimed, and you could imagine her pace around her room whilst she talked.

“Really? I didn’t notice,” you lied through your teeth. Of course you noticed, how could you not notice when his blue-gray orbs stared at you? It was unnerving sometimes, especially when he does that thing with his eyes narrowed—yeesh! It gave you the heebie-jeebies, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t make you a bit warm in your core.

“Yeah okay, I just really needed to leave you both alone together, the tension was so thick you could-”

“Cut it with a knife, yes I know,” you continued her sentence for her. “Exactly,” she replied, “Do you need to talk about it? I swear, today was the first time I’ve ever seen you so… Pent up,” she asked, with worry apparent in her voice.

Pent up? I guess you could say that. Bucky was up to no good, what exactly was he trying to do? “I’m fine. Thank you for checking up on me but I’ll handle it,” you reassured her.

You weren’t going to handle it, you already knew. You would just let this go by, but why? You knew that you didn’t have a crush on him anymore, you think. Yet, you still held onto this relationship like a vice, refusing to seek other people. Maybe Bucky was right, that there were a lot of people willing to be with you, you didn’t have to stay.

You have thought about this before, but the more you think about it, you realize that you really can’t imagine yourself being with anybody else. Being with Bucky, as much as it hurt the next morning, it felt right.

“I swear, if you try to keep it to yourself, I will personally come by-” her voice was interrupted by a knock on your door. You straightened up out of surprise, eyeing it.

“Somebody is at my door, I’ll call you later Nat.”

“Alright, bye,” she said right before you hung up. You stood up from your spot and you walked towards your door, your footsteps feeling heavy. Nobody ever visited you this late at night, unless…

—

“Man, I have no idea what’s going on with you and her, but she looked pretty upset back there,” Steve says worryingly as he takes the seat next to Bucky. “Is there anything I need to know?” he continued, looking at his friend, who currently had a troubled look on his face.

When Bucky didn’t answer immediately, Steve didn’t press on further, “Hey, if you need a pal to talk to, I’ll be here, alright?” Steve pats him on the back.

Bucky pursed his lips. He trusted Steve, but a part of him is guilty of what he’s done to you. He was afraid of telling Steve what had been going on. He was basically using you for months. One of the only people that liked him—he used and he hurt.

I keep my part of the agreement, no matter how hard and painful it is, and I only expect you to do the same. Painful? Was this painful for you?

“Steve, if you were ever to make amends to a woman after hurting her, how would you go about it?” Bucky finally spoke.

Steve was taken aback by the question, but tried his best to answer with full sincerity, “Well, it would be best to talk to her, one on one…”

—

Bucky paced back and forth in front of your apartment door, trying to rehearse what he wanted to say. Acknowledge that you’ve hurt her, that’s the first step to making amends. He raised a fist to knock, but he was hesitant. He took a deep breath.

Knock, knock. After a few seconds, he heard the thuds of your feet approaching the door. He held his breath.

With a click, he was met with your eyes. Your hair looked slightly dishevelled, like you were just lying down a moment before. You certainly weren’t expecting him, because your eyes blew wide at the sight of him. He has never showed up uninvited at your door, you both always came to your apartment together, but he has never personally seeked you out.

“Fancy seeing you here.” you broke the silence, your hand leaving the doorknob, so you could cross your arms. “If you’re here to sleep with me then-”

“No, no.. I’m not here for that,” he quickly said. His throat felt dry as he stared at you. He cleared his throat, “Look, I just wanted to apologize for today, I don’t know what came over me.”

You raised a brow, slightly losing your tense posture. You untangled your arms and they rested at your sides. You half-expected it to be Bucky at the door, but you didn’t expect this. You weren’t displeased though, because it felt nice to finally have him visit out of pure decision. You stayed quiet for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape.

“Do you wanna come in?”

“Please.”

You moved to the side so Bucky could step in. He was nervous, but not because he was in your apartment, no, he’s very familiar with it, especially your bedroom. He took his shoes off and headed to sit on your couch. You walked into your kitchen, with his eyes watching your every move. You eventually returned with two steaming mugs, the smell of green tea gently wafting in the air. You placed it onto the table in front of him before you took the place next to him.

He grabbed the mug, examining its whimsical design, “This looks similar to the one you gave me on my birthday,” Bucky chuckles before taking a sip of the hot tea.

“That’s because I made it, very poorly as you can tell,” you stated while sinking into your couch once again. Bucky wasn’t surprised, it seemed like you’ve done every type of art before. Yet, he was a little sad that he didn’t know this sooner.

“It looks good.” Bucky reminisced when you gave him the mug on his birthday, it was colorful and oddly shaped, and it had his name on it. He still uses that mug to this day, and it was the only thing he didn’t put in his dishwasher, he would always hand wash it, afraid of it breaking or cracking it in the machine.

He looked over at your spot on the couch, and the mug you were currently holding had your name on it too, with a similar design, it was matching.

“You know,” you blew on your tea, “It’s been so long since we’ve genuinely hung out like this,” you said before taking a small sip. You were right, it has been a long time. Ever since you both started sleeping together, the friendship before almost dissipated, leaving behind an empty cast.

“I miss it—our friendship,” you looked at him. Were your eyes teary or was it the steam?

Bucky gulped as he gaped at you. His hand twitched against the mug he was holding. He stayed silent as you continued. “I don’t mind this-” you waved your free hand around, “relationship we have, it would just really be nice to be able to talk and laugh with you again,”

He’s afraid to admit it, but he thought the same too. But he was scared to say it, why? He has opened up to you, so many times. But this relationship with you made him realize so many things about himself.

Including the fact that he wouldn’t mind being more than friends with you. In fact- no, no no no. He can’t do that to you. He’s a damaged man. He’s scared that once he has you he won’t let go. He has already been doing this to you for the past ten months, using you so he can keep you to himself without commitment. Because, he knows if you and him were anything more than that, he will be so hurt once you leave—even worse, you'll be hurt.

He is so scared.

“Are you okay?” he didn’t even notice how silent he was until he heard your concerned voice.

“Yes, yeah, I’m fine,” he blinked hard and licked his lips, he looked at you again with your worried eyes. Your eyebrows were slightly scrunched up.

“Do you-” he stuttered, “Do you mind if I…” he looked into your eyes, “Come over sometimes? At night? Just to talk and hang out, just like this,” he braced himself.

Your lips curled into a smile, and he saw that exact same spark in your eyes.

“Sure.”

[kireilien]

back to my boyfriend bc im loyal can we talk about shy ky maybe give it a little back story like when reader (me.) and ky first met he was super shy could barely talk to reader (me..) without getting all red

ur actually not loyal looks around but i’ll indulge in this … and yk how much of a freak i am so shy!ky but also perv!ky ♡︎

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing; no explicit dynamics but implied service dom!kyrell, fem!reader, race neutral reader, male masturbation, porn watching, panty stealing/sniffing, this can basically be like gooner!ky

oh how ky would have the biggest crush on you!!!

he sees you around all the time because you two share the same circle of friends, he’s even seen you at the same function a few times, but he’s always been too shy to say anything. his friends know he has the biggest crush on you, but his face and ears would get all red, cute smile plastering his face, unable to even think about approaching you.

but when your friends drop hints that it’s going around that kyrell valentine choi has a crush on you, you start seeing something more.

when you first talk to him, sure you were shy because this is the first time you’ve ever talked on him, but ky was worse! he’s stumbling over his words, talking to you in broken sentences and gritted teeth, you feel so bad! you reassure him that he can talk to you like a friend and grab his hand, telling him he could calm down.

oh you didn’t even know what you just did.

ky seeing your hand on his, he feels the softness, can smell your sweet hand lotion on it— is it bath and body works? or is it pink? he’ll find out later— when he comes home to his room, his head is in his hands and his cock is so tight against his pants. he has to open up twitter and search for something. but he finds out something horrible. he can’t even watch his go-tos anymore. why? they don’t look like you.

he’s trying to jack himself off but something isn’t hitting. when he scrolls to find one, he finally can jerk it. he doesn’t even notice after cumming all over the tissue that the model had similar features to you. down to your hair, to your skin, to your ass and tits, everything. the reason why he couldn’t jack off before was because none of his porn looked like you.

this was only the start.

when you start meeting up more, he’s still his shy self but, he starts getting more romantic. in your eyes, you’re already set on bagging him. in ky’s eyes, it’s a way for him to ignore the fact he can’t cum to anything else but you now. remember how ky faintly smelt your hand lotion? when he was being his gentlemen self, he kissed your hand goodbye. cute, right?

no. he found your lotion and bought it. he now uses it to jack off his cock so when he’s jerking it, it smells like you. he’s never seen himself cum that much and that fast.

when you invited him over to your place, he was so respectful. keeping his hands to himself, sitting at a distance from you, complimenting your room. but obviously you closed that gap between yourselves and even made out a little. when ky bids goodbye, he pops the question. you say yes. boom. you have a normal boyfriend now, right?

wrong. when you were getting some water, he picks up these cute panties of yours in your dirty hamper and shoves them in his back pocket. you didn’t even notice they went missing, which is a good thing because when ky got home, he immediately unzipped his pants, squirted some of your scented lotion on his cock and starts inhaling the shit out of your panties.

how disgusting.

but ky can’t help it. he can’t wait to fuck your pussy so right, just how you want it. he’s so utterly obsessed with you he’ll do anything to make you feel good. it’s compensation for buying your lotion and taking your panties.

back 2 catalog

[ginnyw-potter]

Making it official

for @ginnystrophyhusband prompt: hesitate

Harry walked up the first flight of stairs but then he hesitated outside of Ginny’s bedroom. This was it, he was going to talk to her, properly, for the first time since the battle. Something more than a glance or taking part in the same conversation with other people. This was about them.

He exhaled and knocked on the door.

“Come in!” her voice came a second later.

He opened the door just a bit and looked in. She was by her closet, putting away a pile of clothes.

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked.

“You?” She shook her head as she closed the doors of the closet. “Never.” She smiled lightly and sat down on the edge of her bed, patting the spot beside her.

He stepped in and closed the door, crossing the small room and settled down beside her.

Ginny’s gaze swept over him with both scrutiny and care. She reached out and adjusted his fringe. “Who cut your hair?”

“Your mum.”

She locked eyes with him. “Don’t let her do that again. It’s not one of her many talents.” Her hand dropped back in her lap. “I’ll do it next time.”

He scoffed. “Like I’d trust you.”

“Excuse me.” The corners of her mouth twisted upward ever so slightly. “I would give you an excellent cut.”

He shook his head. “I think I’d rather trust Ron.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

He hesitated for another moment but then he gave in and smiled. “No, I wouldn’t.”

She chuckled. “Did you want to talk about something? —You had that particular frown on your face when you came in when something’s on your mind.”

“Hm.” He looked at her. She had changed since last year, as they all did, but there was that same fiery look he loved and the little twinkle in her eyes that balanced it out. “I wanted to talk about…us.”

Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “Are you breaking up with me?” she asked without any sort of worry detectable in her tone.

“I…” He was confused. “No?” He pressed his lips together as he thought. “The opposite?”

“You don’t sound too sure,” she quipped. “Wait, what do you mean the opposite?”

Harry was getting more confused by the second. “I mean… we haven’t really spoken about…” He gestured vaguely between them.

“Well…” Her cheeks turned rosy. “I thought it was a sort of unspoken thing between us.”

“No! I mean, yes!” He was suddenly feeling very warm. “It is, I guess. I just felt like we needed to… talk about it. Perhaps put it down on paper,” he joked.

Her lips pursed in amusement. “On paper, you say? I mean, if you insist we can do that, officially.”

“Ginny,” he said. “That’s not what I meant.” He couldn’t help his smile from forming.

She looked at him innocently. “No, I heard what I heard. It’s fine, I’ll do it. I just figured you’d be more romantic about it.” Her hand swept her hair back over her shoulder with a bit of a flourish, a teasing look in her eyes.

He couldn’t resist the urge to laugh. Then it hit him like a bludger to the face. Putting it down on paper officially, marrying Ginny, was something perfectly reasonable to want. More than that, it was attainable and it had not been before.

“Now, hold your Hippogriffs,” he told her. “Not so fast.”

Ginny sighed with exasperated fondness, brought her hand to the back of his head and guided him to her lips. Her lips were soft and it was so excruciatingly familiar to shift closer to her and brush his hand through her hair, the swipe of her tongue and the way her fingers brushed through his hair.

He had missed it more than he cared to admit. Needed it more than he could ever express out loud.

“Gin?” he said. “You would do it? Marrying me for real?” he asked against her lips.

She adjusted her position just enough to lock eyes with him. “Harry. When, in all the years that you have known me, have I ever given you the impression I didn’t want to marry you?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Uh…never?”

“I’d hope so.” She pulled him in again. “Is snogging you official enough for now?”

“Yes.” He kissed her. “Suppose I was worrying about a conversation we didn’t need to have.”

“You were worrying?” She looked more seriously at him. Her gaze danced over his face. “No, I am glad you did come. If there was any doubt on your side I’m glad we can clear that up. I don’t want you to doubt about what you are to me.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I love you. Still, always.”

His breath got stuck in his throat. “I love you too.”

“It’s nice to hear you say that without it sounding like a goodbye,” she said quietly.

“It’s nice when it doesn’t feel like goodbye,” he admitted.

Ginny’s reply was pulling him back in, and he was more than fine with that.

[ultralightpoe]

Past Sorrows - Bucky Barnes

Authors Notes: Y'all I have a HUGE folder of works that I haven't published because I feel like they suck and I just sit in this never ending battle of rewriting and rewriting and.... Okay y'all get it. -Ultralightpoe

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: None> Maybe a bad word.

Description: Inspired by Meet The Robinsons

Main Masterlist - - Marvel Masterlist

Past Sorrows - - Next part SOON

[Thank You For The Gif @sniktya ]

Enjoy! [I HATE THIS BUT IT'S GOTTA ESCAPE MY DRAFTS Y'ALL]

“I've about had it with this same conversation over and over young man.” 

The words probably would have held a better punch if James Buchanan Barnes hadn’t heard them nearly every week since the school year had begun, they probably woulda stung a bit more if he had actually liked the person that was currently speaking those recurring words. But truth be told he was tired, and bored, of sitting in the wooden chair across from the principal of his school. He was tired of getting crammed into detention nearly everyday in punishment. 

Bucky Barnes was tired. 

It wasn’t even his fault, none of this was, not that any adult around him actually seemed to give a damn about his predicament. 

It had been a year since his father died, a year since his mother had forced herself to go back to work so that her and her children could afford food and clothes. A year since Bucky had picked up morning duty for his sisters in order for his Mother to make it to the job that fed them on time. The only problem was….. well his sisters ran on their own time. They acted as if the clock on the wall was non-existent when it came to their mornings. 

Rebecca loved to wait until the last minute for her homework, somehow managing to just get it done by the time he drags her to the door. And June Bug could never make up her mind on what to wear, anything he offered was taken as an insult and any help not given was an abandonment in her eyes. The oatmeal he made was always just a little burnt and the arguing was always just a little bitter. 

But it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. They were family and these were his baby sisters. They needed him, his man needed him. And their needs trump all. 

The school? They did not agree with this argument. 

Matter of fact they seemed to think they were the most important thing in this damned universe. 

“I already told ya’,” he snaps, trying not to show too much attitude, choosing to grip the sides of his chair instead. “My ma’s job puts us on a late start.” 

“James.” Principal Figs sighs, shaking his head in the slow condescending way that sets a flush of anger through Bucky’s skin. “I’ve tried talking to you about better options. The bus. A shared ride. Calling your mother about your attendance. We need to figure out, you cannot keep missing half your English class. You hear me boy?” 

Loud. And. Clear. 

But it’s not like Bucky could argue, what was he supposed to say that would ease this situation? The truth? 

“I can not come in early cause my Ma’ leaves 2 hours earlier than we wake up and my sisters get a later start in school.” Next thing you know the adults at the school begin to get suspicious and look into the family. Or as Garrett Figs liked to explain it, they want to see if your parents are fit to keep you. 

And Bucky refused for there to be pressure on his Ma, refused for anyone to look in at the picture they didn’t understand and judge their family. He refused the risk of someone tearing them apart, putting his sisters in one of those overcrowded foster homes that ran with diseases. Serving the kids broth soup every night just to make ends meet. 

It’s not like their family had done much better, no one had anything in this depression, but they had family and he would be damned if that was taken from him. 

“I’ll look into it.” He amended, his voice straining at the lie as his eyes seemed to burn while he forced himself to make eye contact, wanting nothing more than to look for the exit. Wanting nothing more than to just be free of this damn office. “After losing Pa we just have struggled to find a schedule that works. I’ll see if I can share Stevie’s ride. I promise.”

And with that simple lie he was released from this damn office. His shoes hitting the wooden floors beneath him with sharp thuds as he snatched up his school books, keeping them on his hip to maintain an unbothered strut as the bells above rang out sharply and bodies filled the hallways with a speed of desperation. 

It was always really easy to spot Steve Rogers in a crowd, like a flock of birds gathered around the chick. People tended to split in order to avoid damaging the smaller body. 

“Stevie!” He called out, sending an awkward half smile to Tracey Potts, whose cheeks were tinged with red as she tried to step up to Bucky, her plaid blue skirt swishing a bit. Something about Tracey Potts? She always looked her best, from the perfectly bouncy hair that reached her shoulders always paired with a perfectly tied bow. 

She was a real pretty dame. Only problem? Her older brother was a real scary guy. 

“I’m in just a bit of a rush Doll-” He chuckles lightly, swerving a bit to avoid the hand that reaches for him right as Steve snatches his shoulder in what Bucky was sure was meant to be an annoyed grip. 

“Buck. You missed half of class.” His pal scolds, moving to the side for him to follow and leave Potts behind while they walk to the exit. “Again.”

“It was important. Principal Figs was not to keen on me missing class this morning.” 

“So in being mad about you missing class he pulled you out of a class you actually need to pay attention to?” Steve raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “You wanna borrow my notes?” “This is why we were put together pal.” Bucky smiles, stopping his pace to allow Steve to pull the notes. “As my old man always says, Keep Moving Forward.” 

It isn’t until Steve gives him a look of devastation that he realizes his slip up, when his friends blue eyes cloud with a sad sort of gaze and his eyebrows pinch together as his mouth twitches into a frown. 

“Said…..” His voice is hoarse, which he quickly clears before standing a little straighter and swiping a hand over his gelled hair. “My old man always said.”

“Here you go, Buck.” Steve hands off the journal, buckling the book strap to keep everything together and placing his pencil above his ear. 

“Means a lot, Pal.” Bucky smiles, nodding. “I’ll try not to let Junie Bug stain these ones.”

He had felt so guilty about the last packet of notes Steve let him borrow, after they had been put through the ringer by Junie and the tomato juice left in front of her. After an overdramatic bit of yelling and fighting with his ma, and a nice slamming of his bedroom door he was left to try and fix the notes only to make em worse. He had felt guilty for losing his temper on Junie, for leaving the tomato sauce on the table and for yelling at his ma. He felt guilty about Steve’s notes and being late for school and…. 

Bucky was just so tired. 

“You know, I think the world of Junie and her art.” Steve laughs before he is roughly shoved, his chin meeting Bucky’s shoulder as they both do an awkward shuffle to catch themselves. Steve was of course the better person, mumbling out an apology while Bucky took the lead and stepped in front of his friend. 

“Watch where you’re going!” 

The group pays him no mind, charging ahead while Steve merely shakes his head. “You feelin alright Buck? You’ve been…. I’m just worried about ya pal.”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Was he okay?

“Do…. Stevie, you ever feel like….” The words die out, his throat tightening as he tries to form the question on his tongue. Maybe he is worried that the second the words come out then the entire world might fall apart around him? Maybe he just isn’t quite ready to admit it yet. “Do you ever feel like there is nothing worth fighting for? Just a never ending life of struggling to make ends meet with nothing to really show for it? Stuck.”

Steve had a habit of seeing too much and seeing nothing at all. He could take a look at you and see all your insecurities and everything you could be. And in the same hand he could also be staring down the barrel of a gun and not see doom in it. He was a fighter. 

And Bucky didn’t think he was. 

Because….. Bucky was just so damn tired. 

His friend struggles for a response, but the shame and dread had already claimed Bucky’s movements. “Nevermind pal. I just think I’m in desperate need for a nap.”

It’s rough to force a laugh out, slightly pathetic how much energy it takes, and yet when he pulls his hand up to check his watch, shock and panic is all he finds himself swimming in. “Is it really 3:30. Damn it all-”

He gives Steve one last smile before sprinting off, taking the streets of brooklyn as fast as he could to get to his sisters school. 

He would never make it on time, always late. Late to school, late to work, late to pick up his sisters. It seemed he’d never have enough time these days. 

All he could do was run, and hope Junie Bug didn’t get too impatient by the time he arrived. 

- 

Junie Bug HAD gotten a little impatient waiting for Bucky. He managed to make it at only 5 minutes late, but she was already glaring when he came running up, completely out of breath and red in the face. 

“Sorry Junie. Sorry Becca.” He panted out, hands on his knees. The apologies had fallen on empty ears, both sisters walking ahead to ignore him, just as they did the entire walk home. They ignored him while walking up the stairs to the apartment and they ignored him when they rushed to their shared bedroom and slammed the door in his face. 

It stung, he hated being outcasted by his best girls, and even though he hated when they forced him to play dolls he could hear them in their room giggling over it all and suddenly that’s all he wanted to do. 

But at the moment he would use their anger to complete some work, the best idea he could. So, with them giggling down the hall, he took to mopping the kitchen floor. Dusting the living room, making sure his room was picked up before doing his homework at the table. But the entire time he copied Steve’s notes all he could think of was just how…. Lost he was. 

He couldn’t seem to win anything. They couldn’t afford anything, he was less brother and more a half assed parent figure to his sisters, no dames in his future and Stevie’s heart risked his health. It felt like there was just this black cloud that had clung to his shoulders and was pushing him down. 

“Oh come on Buck.” He grumbles to himself, shaking his head and slapping at his cheek a bit. “Snap out of it.”

He was just being dramatic, that’s all. A bad day in a bad week. Once he got some rest it would all be better and ma would be home soon. 

Keep moving forward. 

The sharp trill of the phone went off, and he could hear his sisters door open down the hall, and once he picked up the handle of the phone and placed it to his ear he already knew just what he would hear. 

“Buck. Baby.” His mother greets, sounding so tired even through the phone. “I gotta stay late. You think you can feed the girls and get them to bed?”

A moment of silence passes as he fights off the disappointment, closing his eyes and leaning his head on the wall of the apartment. “No problem ma.”

The words rang empty, missing the usual tone of life he tended to carry. “I’m so sorry bubs. This is the last time, I swear it.”

She had said that every day this week, but he couldn’t blame her. They were all struggling, right?

“It’s no problem, ma.” He tries to sound happier again. “Just…. Keep moving forward.”

“Thank you Bubs.” She sighs, making a kissing sound before hanging up and leaving him to turn to his sisters, both watching them from their doorway. 

“Pasta?”

He would have laughed at the way they groaned simultaneously if he wasn’t so sick to his stomach. 

- 

“I just need you to be quiet.” Someone seethes, the sound waking Bucky up from a deep sleep, forcing him to blink quickly as he struggles to push the fog from his brain. Reaching a hand up to rub at his eyes, while he tries to pick up on what exactly is wrong. 

Nothing is out of place in his room, he can see everything by the light of the streetlamp outside the window, and the only thing out of normal was that he almost always shut the blinds before he hit the bed. But he had barely managed to make it to his room before he passed out sprawled across the sheets. Drool stained his pillow and he was still in his school clothes. 

But something was off. Really really off. 

“Shhhh!” The voice rang out again, and he must have woken up to the sound of Becca and June sneaking in for snacks past their bedtime, trying not to wake up Ma. Nothing but little trouble makes, and with a shake of his head she struggles to lift himself out of the bed, heading to catch them in their act before he stops short once more. “You’re gonna wake them. Can you stop?”

There was in fact a problem after all, because that was a male voice and Bucky only lived with females. Someone was in his home. 

The first thing he could think of was to grab the bat that sat in his closet, keeping a firm grip on it as he reached for the door handle, only to see that it was already twisting on its own. With his heart racing he managed to stumble back, nearly cursing himself out for the sound as the handle paused and he forced himself to hold his breath, shaking as he stared at it so hard his eyes began to water. 

A pause, the handle stuck in it’s half twisted motion, and all Bucky could do was worry about his sisters. Had his Ma made it home? What if something happened to her? What if these guys already stopped in his sisters rooms? What if what if what if…..

But the moment of anxiety and stillness passed, and whoever was on the otherside must have deemed him silent enough to continue. Turning the handle and pushing the door open slowly as if afraid it might creak. Bucky knew it would creak once it passed the 8th floor board past where his rug ended, and he knew if he stayed behind the door he would be able to catch whoever it was by surprise. 

And within moments the intruder took a step into his room, casting a look in the direction of the bed before going still once he saw that it was empty, only there was no time for reaction before Bucky was upon him. He swung the bat, enjoying the sound of the thud and the cry of pain that came from the intruder as they stepped back holding their side and managing to just barely dodge the second swing. By the third Bucky was beginning to lose balance, and the intruder had managed to catch theirs, snatching the bat and holding it tight and twisting until Bucky had tripped over his own rug and hit the ground. 

“Oh, I’m in so much trouble.” The voice rang out, and Bucky couldn’t fight off the anger anymore. 

“Hell yeah you are!” He yells, kicking at the figure's leg to trip them before launching to sprawl over them and try and get the advantage. It was a struggle, once Bucky got a hit in so did the intruder. “Who the hell are you-”

A fist comes up to meet his face, instant pain spreading through as Bucky throws his weight back and tastes the iron. 

“You’re in danger- You have to listen to me here!”

“You came into the wrong house pal-” He spits out some of the blood, launching back into the figure with all his weight until they hit the bookshelf on the wall, managing to break it all. 

“Damn da- dude.” The figure coughs, kicking him back and pulling out something Bucky didn’t recognize. “I don’t want to have to do this.”

“Oh buck up.” And he swings his fist, hitting them square on before rushing to grab his bat once more. 

“It’s flesh….. Your hand is flesh….”

An odd thing to say, and Bucky would have had a great comeback if he wasn’t thrown back by a crazy explosion, knocking him into his bedroom wall and effectively hitting his head. And he must have hit it hard…. Because there was a green creature staring down at him with a terrifying smile. Sharp teeth and drool hanging down from his jaw as his taloned hands reach to grab something at his hip. Pulling out a jagged glowing blade. 

“Doom denies this line.” 

“WATCH OUT!” And just as the blade was pushed down and about to pierce into Bucky’s chest the figure managed to stop it, hand shooting out until blood was dripping down onto Bucky’s face and a cry of pain shot out in the dark of the room. But another blast of light and it all went wrong. 

- 

“You’re in so much trouble when they find out.” A voice bites out as Bucky is once again forced awake, this time nearly being blinded by a light as he covers his eyes with a hand. “Oh great. He’s awake.”

“I can see that Franklin. Thank you.” The voice from earlier quips, and Bucky manages to adjust to the light in time to see a young boy around his age slap the shoulder of the one next to him. “Okay, don’t panic.”

Panic. 

“Where the hell am I?!” Bucky cries out, jumping up from where he had been laid out and pushing to run for an exit, only to realize that there were no exits. He was fully trapped in…. What the hell was this place? 

“Okay da-dude. Bucky, James, sir.” The figure from earlier rushes out, moving to step in front of Bucky, which just makes him step back and trip over a chair in order to avoid him. His back hits the floor and before he knows it a black haired boy is staring down at him. 

“I don’t know about you but he doesn’t seem to be enjoying this.”

“Franklin, back off.”

“Oh come on.” The kid huffs, reaching a hand out and extending it down. “Franklin Richards. And I’m assuming you are Bucky Barnes.”

“Assuming?”

“More than that. We were sent out to… This is my companion Beck Ba-”

“Barton! Beck Barton.”

“He thinks he’s cool.”

“Kiss my ass Franklin.”

“Ohhhhh I’m telling your dad you just cussed.”

“Yeah and I’ll tell your mom you stole the ship!”

“Then I’ll tell your mom you hacked into a Latverian tech-”

“And then I’ll tell her you broke the memory scanner.”

“YOU BROKE THE MEMORY SCANNER!”

“NO YOU DID!”

“LIAR! I WENT TO USE IT AND YOU SLAPPED IT OUT OF MY HAND!” Franklin yells, his hands moving with the yell. “I told you Beck, he needs his memory wiped or going back and saving him won’t matter.”

“He… he just almost died.” 

“And you think your mom and dad are going to be happy about you nearly getting gutted over this.” 

“What do you propose now? We don’t have your dads tech and it’s not like we can bring him back to…..”

“We have to, we can’t leave back in his time without wiping what happe-”

“Can someone tell me…” Bucky tries to intervene. 

“Not now.” Franklin snaps while Beck merely turns to him slowly, a guilty look on his face. It’s then that Bucky sees his left arm is bandaged and the shirt he currently wore, far too tight and must be an undershirt for a button up, was covered in blood. 

“Well…. We are from another time…..” He begins, blinking slowly. “A futuristic time. And we got… intel- which means intelligence-”

“I know what it means.”

“On a man we call Dr. Doom sending out some agents- which are people that work under him-”

“I gathered that, thank you.”

“Anyways, he sent them out to ruin the timeline of our earth. You were one of the targets.”

“Why was I a target? What do you mean our earth?”

“He was aiming to split the timeline before the war hit.” 

“Let me go home. My ma…. My sisters and stevie.” Bucky pleads, trying to stand up, slapping Franklin's still outstretched hand away and trying to find an exit again. But it was terrifying, there were screens lighting up just about every surface. Cushions that not even the president could afford on the chairs, and the finest metal holding it all together. And the one opening there was held…. Space beyond it. Nothing but space. 

And it took all of two seconds for Bucky to get sick, leaning over to puke onto the floor as both boys stepped back. 

“Okay let’s try this again.” Franklin groaned. “Here is the thing, you were targeted by Doom. He wanted to break a timeline, you don’t need to know why. All you need to know is that Beck and I saved you and our time machine is…. A bit on the fritz so we have to wait before we can travel home to get you all fixed up and this can be right as rain. You understand?”

“What’s home?” 

“Home is…. 90 years…. Give or take.”

“2029.” Beck answers, shaking his head. 

“I’m sorry?” Bucky was going to be sick again, he just knew it. “It’s 1938.”

“Oh….. I’m in so much trouble.” Beck sighs, closing his eyes before opening them to glare. And it’s an odd thought that Bucky gets when he stares at the boy in front of him, who should be around his age, that he was just a child. Like his little sisters. He could see the fear and the guilt eating away at every expression. Like he knew him already. 

“Alright Beck Barton….. What do you need from me?”

- 

“I just need you to know that when our parents kill us that I am gonna blame you the entire time.” Franklin seethes as he turns to look over his shoulder to where Bucky Barnes was currently staring out the window in pure shock. “Your dad more so. Oh your dad is going to be so pissed.”

“The plan is neither of our parents finds out.” Beck groans. “They can not see him, you understand?” 

“Got it. Operation keep Bucky Barnes hidden from the Barnes Family is underway.” 

-

[Oh I am already regretting this but like I said it needed to be free from the drafts. My draft folder is way too packed of stuff I keep rewriting. Someone save me pls. -Ultralightpoe]

[slapthosewilliessilly]

hun…i want older josh fucking younger reader..😭 how would their dynamic be like, would you think?

Warnings?; Cock warming, nudes, sexy pics, age difference, Josh is definitely a bit of an exhibitionist ig

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

Oooo okay so I can imagine the age difference being like 2 or 3 years apart. You’re definitely the younger friend of the group but you for sure get along with the twins the most. You being nineteen and Josh being twenty one or twenty two.

The first time you meet Josh and the rest of the group is when he is throwing a party and his sisters were asking if you could come along too since they were wanting you to come spend the weekend with them.

Of course Josh is a little hesitant since they told him how old you were but it didn’t seem like that big of a deal so he ended up telling them that you could join in.

Beth would greet you at the door when you arrived for sure, then next thing you know you’re almost being dragged to the kitchen.

Sooner rather than later Josh would make his way over to you, two red solo cups in hand and a grin on his face.

“Hey, good to see you could make it.” He’d greet to you, handing you one of the cups.

“I’m Josh, Hannah and Beth’s older brother.” The grin wouldn’t leave, especially seeing the slight look of surprise on your face.

You knew Hannah and Beth had an older brother but you didn’t know how hot he was.

He definitely noticed how nervous you got around him- definitely thought it was cute. Starts flirting with you a little bit just to see how you’d feel about more of his attention.

He figured your definitely inexperienced with how much your blushing and how tightly your holding onto the red solo cup- but your sweet and polite.

You were nice to talk to. He was liking talking to you.

It was safe to say you were allowed to come over a lot more often, for parties or just for sleepovers with the twins.

It gets harder for him to hide his feelings though since he is falling and falling hard

When you guys do get together Josh is genuinely so sweet and loves spending time with you.

His favorite is when you come over and he can just hold you laying down with you. Your head on his chest? God he was obsessed with how it felt.

Obsessed with how you feel in general, very physically affectionate. Not like an intense amount in public but when you two are alone it’s a constant.

Always has to be touching you- your hands, shoulders, your thighs, waist, hip, the low part of your back- all of it.

When you two have your first time together he takes his time.

We love a patient king 👑

If it’s your first time he makes it extra special regardless, if it’s not he definitely teases you more

“Just leave it all up to me yeah? I’ll show you what it’s all about.” He’ll say with you laying on his bed and his hands gently kneading your thighs with a grin on his face.

HE’S GONNA DEVOUR YOU SIS!!!

He’ll leave slow kisses from behind your ear allll the way down,

Right until he gets to the top hem of your panties- some cute lace pair you wore for him

Definitely stuffs them in his pocket for later

Obsessed with you cock warming him- he’s not sure what it is about it that just drives him fucking nuts

Maybe it’s the way you try so hard not to squirm and fail each and every time- trying so hard to be good for him but you’re just soo stuffed full of his throbbing cock it’s hard to not move or twitch on it

He loves taking pictures of you on top of him as he’s inside of you. His favorite picture is the one where your eyes are half lidded and your puffy lips (from making out so hard duh) are parted. Your cheeks are twinged pink and you still have your black lace bra on but you’re completely and utterly full of him.

He jerks off to that photo much more than he cares to admit tbh

Sometimes he uses cock warming as a punishment for you- like if he gets jealous. Josh will say he never gets jealous- “Jealous of who?” He will ask, but you know him better than that.

He’ll keep you snug in his lap, making sure he’s deep inside of you- hands tightly gripping your waist as he leaves soft ghost like kisses on the sides of your neck. Won’t start fucking you until you’re begging him.

Even if he’s annoyed or jealous he won’t be rough with you unless you ask him to be- your comfort comes first.

His hands tight around your waist as he thrusts into you at a slow and deep pace, taking his time and enjoying each and every single whine and moan coming from you as he fucks up into you.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

I’m so so so sorry that this took so long but I hope you enjoy!! It’s been a serious headache to try and to get back into writing, not because I dislike it or anything but because of the stress in my personal life. Thank you all so much for your patience and love! I have my requests closed for now because I was getting a bunch of goofy ass spam but I’ll let you all know when it’s open again! Will work on other fics and requests in the meantime:)