#you know some stuff is about to go down when he looks up

[lovebugism]

Thunderbolts prompt: fake dating with them oh my lordy

ty for requesting :D below you will find four separate blurbs for the thunderbolts (bucky, yelena, john, and bob), each with their own separate summary and warnings! enjoy!!

BUCKY BARNES X READER — you pretend to be bucky's wife to help his image during the election (friends to lovers, pre-thunderbolts but also kinda canon divergent | 0.8k words)

Bucky Barnes never lets go of your hand. He never stops smiling either, at the sporadic camera flashes that threaten to blind him while the elevator doors squeak to a close. Only when the two of you are finally alone, away from the leering eyes of the press, can Bucky take his first good breath of the evening. Only then does he let go of your hand.

You migrate to opposite sides of the small lift and bathe in the welcome silence after a too-long night of shaking hands and people pleasing. Bucky sighs and tips his head back against the wall. “I’m sorry about this,” he mumbles beneath the ding-ing elevator. “Again.”

Despite the ache in your feet from a long night in heels, you manage a small, tired laugh. “You don’t have to keep apologizing, Bucky— Valentina put me up to his, alright? Not you.”

“No, I know, I just…” he trails off with an awkward chuckle, loosening the knot in his tie with two fingers. “I just know you’d rather be anywhere else in the world than here, you know, with me. I know how boring these things are, trust me.”

He tilts his head to flash you a tight-lipped grin, ocean eyes dark and weighed down with a visible fatigue. You give him a much more apologetic look in return.

“Actually, I’m kinda happy I’m here,” you correct and avert your gaze. “I know Valentina did all… this,” you wave your hand vaguely between the two of you. “But if pretending to be married helps you get elected, then I’m happy to do it. I seriously think you could do some good— like, world-changing good, so… I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.”

Bucky’s chest warms with an unfamiliar feeling. Something fuzzy, like television static or crackling embers — the kind of feeling he only gets whenever he’s holding your hand. It feels strange now, not to be touching you after spending a whole evening at your side.

He flexes his flesh hand and tries to ignore the ache while the numbers on the elevator continue to rise — 27th, 28th, 29th… 

“I know neither of us wanted to be here, but… Out of everyone Valentina could’ve picked, I’m glad it was you.”

“I’m sure you are,” you quip, trying not to be as vulnerable as you feel. “Considering her first idea was pairing you and Walker to go on, like, pretty public missions together.”

Bucky’s face screws. “No, it wasn’t...” he groans.

“Yeah. Like, saving kittens out of trees— Real serious stuff.”

He makes a pained, grumbly noise in his throat. “Well, now I’m extra glad it’s you.”

The two of you exhale soft laughs and stare ahead at the closed doors before you; more specifically, at the bright red numbers above them — 41st, 42nd, 43rd — praying silently that they’ll slow down.

“And even though Valentina did all those for show… You know, the whole married Avengers thing…” Bucky trails off and clears his throat, trying to find the words to say. “Every time we kissed, every time we pretended to be in love… It was real to me. It was always real to me.”

You exhale a heavy breath. Like his words have physically punched you in the stomach. 

“And if you don’t feel the same way, I get it. Okay? I do,” Bucky rambles, preparing himself for an inevitable rejection. “But when all this dies down, whether it gets me elected or not, I’d like to take you out on a real date.”

“No press?” you ask, peering at him from beneath your lashes.

Bucky shakes his head in agreement. “No press.”

“Even if you don’t get elected, and all of this ends up being for nothing?”

“Well, it… wouldn’t have been for nothing.”

You exhale a breathy laugh. “You know, despite what Walker says about you, you still know your way around women, Sergeant Barnes,” you quip beneath the ding of the elevator. 

Bucky’s brows furrow in confusion as the elevator doors whir open. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he calls to the back of you as you step out onto the fifty-third floor.

He doesn’t follow you — equal parts because he feels like his feet are glued to the floor and because his real room is a floor above the one Valentina booked for Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. 

You flash him a look over your shoulder, eyes dolled up and magnetic like a siren’s gaze would be. “It was real to me, too, Bucky,” you murmur, so quietly he barely hears it, then remove every ounce of vulnerability from your being. “Now, do you wanna come in for a night cap or what?”

You walk off before he can answer. Bucky catches the closing door with his vibranium hand and rushes to follow behind you.

You share a bed that night, like many nights before, but this time with the knowledge that everything will be different when you wake up the next morning.

YELENA BELOVA X READER — yelena wants to show her parents that she's doing okay after the death of her sister, and recruits your help to do so (friends to lovers, post-thunderbolts | 1k words)

Yelena Belova’s trying to prove that she’s okay. Alexei and Melina were worried that Natasha’s passing had ruined her, which it had — and that a life without her sister had left her all alone, which it did. But, in an attempt to stave off the weepy conversations and squishy-eyed gazes, Yelena decided to bring a companion to the family dinner. 

You were her teammate, first and foremost, and the only one she could tolerate long enough to pretend to date for a night. And, besides, you were too soft for your own good to deny her of anything.

You were too perfect a choice, turns out, ‘cause her parents end up taking to you like a third daughter.

Yelena groans with her head in her palms when Alexei returns from the bathroom, modeling his original Red Guardian supersuit like he does every time they visit Melina’s country house. The spandex gear was created in the early eighties and smells like it, too. The thing gets tighter every time Alexei shoves on it, but he wears it with a bright smile on his bearded face anyway.

“Still fits!” you exclaim kindly from the kitchen table as the older man poses in the doorway.

“I told you it would!” Alexei slurs in his deep Russian accent. “Forty-one years old, this is! Can you believe it?!”

“Yes, I can,” Yelena mumbles into her shot glass before swallowing its golden brown contents in one go.

You shake your head with a polite smile. “You don’t look a day over thirty, Alexei.”

“Oh, you flatter me,” the man chuckles from the depths of his round stomach, then deflates with a realization. “Ah, drisnya— I forgot the, uh… the…” He trails off, motioning vaguely around his head as he searches for the English word. “The helmet. I just— I ruined this whole thing…”

Melina smiles at the pouting man she used to call her husband (and still does, on occasion). “No, you didn’t, my love,” she coos, voice low as honey. “You look great.”

Alexei shakes his stubborn head, swiping a calloused hand through his long, greying locks. “No, I have— I have to do it all over again. Just… wait. Wait here, da?” he scurries back down the hall, searching for the helmet he’d left behind.

Melina deflates with a sigh. “We’re going to need a lot more alcohol than this,” she mumbles, rising from the table and taking the half-gone bottle of whiskey with her.

“Maybe something a little stronger?” you quip.

The older woman smiles down at you. “Now, you’re speaking my language, solnyshko.” 

You wait until she’s left the room to lean over to Yelena, “What’s sul-nish-co?” you whisper.

“It’s solnyshko—” she corrects in perfect Russian. “—And it means sunshine.”

You smile, warmed by the term of endearment. “That’s nice…”

“Don’t get used to it,” Yelena scoffs and takes another shot. (Her tenth, or maybe hundredth of the evening).

Your brows furrow at her words. You flinch slightly, like they’ve physically pained you in some way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means this isn’t real,” she says, motioning wildly between your bodies. “But those idiots think it is, and they’re getting attached— which means they’re going to wonder why I don’t keep bringing you around— which means I didn’t solve any problems, I just made a new one.”

She points an accusatory finger at you. You blink back burning tears.

“You invited me here, Yelena… I don’t deserve the blame for this…” You turn to your own shot glass, which has been sitting on the table ahead of you for some time now, and finally find the courage to take it. “…Whatever this is.”

Yelena watches with an apologetic look in her eyes as you down the whiskey in one swallow. She can’t help but smile softly to herself when you grimace at the bitter taste.

“You’re right. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry,” she mumbles, so quiet you barely hear it, as she rakes her fingers through her chopped, box-dyed locks. “They’ve just been so worried about me since ‘Tasha died… I wanted to prove to them that I still had someone who cared about me. Even if it was just pretend.”

You smile at the sullen Russian girl. “It’s not pretend, Yelena. You have people who care about you— The entire team would’ve shown up if you asked them.”

Yelena gives you a knowing look in return, doe eyes shadowed with smoky liner.

“Well… Maybe not Walker,” you correct yourself, gaze flitted to the ceiling. “Or Ava… Or Bucky— But Bob definitely would’ve been here, and you know it!”

“Exactly,” the blonde girl says with a soft, gravelly laugh. She fails to meet your piercing gaze and fidgets nervously with her empty shot glass instead. “You’re the only one who cares enough to pretend to like me.”

You feel her tense when you put a soothing hand on her denim-clad thigh. She peers at you beneath her lashes with a shy ocean gaze, chest warming something fierce when you smile. “It’s not pretend, Yelena…”

She falters, unable to tell if your words are some kinda confession or if you’re still just being nice. Her eyes dart across your features, like she’s looking for an answer inside them. Before she can find one, Alexei stumbles in from the bedroom.

“I thought we agreed, no PDA,” the grown man whines, still in his too-tight suit but now sporting the matching helmet. “It’s nasty, ‘Lena, I can’t stomach it.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t stomach you,” the girl retorts instinctively.

You smile in the face of their banter. “You were right, Alexei— It definitely needed the helmet.”

“I told you!” the man exclaims, voice booming as loud as his wide smile. “I told you it made the outfit better— In your face, ‘Lena!”

Yelena shakes her head, but can’t help but smile to herself. 

She figures she could get used to this.

JOHN WALKER X READER — john takes care of you after a mission gone wrong, like the doting husband he's pretending to be (enemies to lovers, pre-thunderbolts, cw for mentions of injuries | 0.8k words)

John Walker is just trying to survive — or, at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. Valentina pairs the two of you on a mission nothing short of life and death. “You’ll draw less attention as a couple,” the woman smiled, passing you an envelope with a forged marriage license and two golden wedding bands inside. “Trust me. You guys are pros at this— What could go wrong?”

The answer to that question was easy: everything.

It was good until it wasn’t. John posed as a business exec Monday through Friday, nine to five, where he would then return to his ‘house’ in the suburbs with a cold beer and a home-cooked meal waiting for him. White picket fence, rose garden, backyard with a pool — the whole nine yards. As far as he was concerned, the only problem was having to share it with you.

You pretended to be his housewife. You went to book clubs, pilates, and over-priced grocery stores, all in the name of fitting in with the rest of the Stepford wives around you. While John got close to the bigshot CEO that Valentina wanted dead, you played nice with his wife — pretty, a little stupid, and satan reincarnate. 

It went on like that in an unforgiving cycle. You received intel in the name of petty gossip and found ways to busy yourself until Walker got home; you had parties, get-togethers, and barbecues to blend in with the community, pretending to love each other all the while.

It was nothing short of your own personal hell. 

The mission was inevitably a success, though not without a couple casualties. You and Walker managed to make it out with a couple scrapes, a few bruises, and only a single gunshot wound — which isn’t so bad, all things considered. 

You think you’re taking a bullet to the stomach much better than your faux-husband is.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking idiot,” John mumbles under his breath as he stitches your weeping wound with careful hands. 

He only managed to stop panicking when he got you to the safe house. Before then, you thought he might cry. You would’ve made fun of him for it if you'd stayed conscious long enough on the ride here.

“Wow,” you scoff, tilting your heavy head against the pillow to glare at him. “Your bedside manner is impressive, Walker. Truly.”

John’s face twists with a palpable irritation. “You don’t get to make jokes right now, alright?” he grouses, snipping the remaining thread from your sutures.

You laugh despite the stinging in your side. “Why not? I think now’s a perfect time, honestly—”

“Because you almost died!” John shouts over you. 

“What the fuck do you care?”

“Uh, because we’re married,” he monotones like it’s obvious, flashing the wedding ring on his left hand, now stained with your blood. 

“No, actually, we’re not—” You wince when you try to sit up. John reaches for you on instinct, helping you prop yourself on the pillows he’s piled beneath you. “—And I’m totally divorcing you when we get home. Just, by the way.”

“Trust me. The feeling’s mutual,” he deadpans, towering over you as he wipes the blood from his hands on a towel. “But we’re probably gonna be stuck here awhile. Valentina’s not getting in a hurry to send any backup, so…”

“What a fucking bitch…” you sigh and tip your head against the bedframe.

“We only have to play husband and wife for a few more days. Think you can handle that?”

“It wasn’t so bad…” you shrug, eyeing John with lidded eyes as he rounds the mattress to the right side — which had, over the course of eight months, become his side. He sits down gingerly, careful not to make any sudden movements that might hurt you. You melt into his warmth on instinct, leaning your shoulder against his broader one. “…Until you got me shot, anyway.”

“Hey, you did that yourself— No one asked you to protect me.”

“Sorry for saving your life, you idiot.”

“I’m a super soldier!” he laughs. “I can take a hit! You can’t!”

“I think I took it pretty well, actually,” you scoff, face screwed in offense.

“Yeah…” John sighs despite himself. “You kinda did.... Just don’t let it happen again.”

“But I like watching you dote on me,” you joke, tilting your head on his shoulder to see him better. 

Your noses nearly brush at the proximity between you, which would border on romantic to virtually anyone else. But, for the two of you, it’s your job — and you’ve gotten used to playing your role to perfection. Being close to him now is like muscle memory. 

“You don’t have to almost die for me to take care of you,” John chuckles. “You know that, right?”

You shake your head. “No, actually. I didn’t.”

“Well…” John shrugs. “Now you do.”

It’s just as much of an admission of love as the blood on his hands from patching you up, or the bullet fragments in your side from shielding him from gunfire. All the rest of it goes unsaid.

ROBERT REYNOLDS X READER — you and bob pretend to date because it's easier than trying to convince everyone you're just friends (friends to lovers, post-thunderbolts | 1.2k words)

Robert Reynolds didn’t want to be alone, and neither did you. The decision to attend Valentina’s wedding together was as mutual as it was unsaid, just like most of the time you spent together. 

You haven’t been apart since the day you found him in New York. At first, it was just babysitting — making sure he didn’t turn half the city into a shadow again — but then you grew rather fond of his company. And eventually, neither of you could stomach being without the other. So you never were. Ever.

It was all completely, utterly, and unequivocally platonic, but the rest of the team convinced themselves otherwise. After a year or more of constant prying, it just got easier to let everyone else believe what they wanted. And, besides, pretending to have a boyfriend got you out of a ton of unwelcome social interactions. 

The team wants to get a beer after a mission that totally drained your social battery? Oops, sorry, I have to get home to Bob before he thinks I’m dead.

Old acquaintances from high school want to hang out with Bob now that he’s quote-unquote famous? I wish I could, but my girlfriend’s super sick. Maybe another time?

You and Bob were best friends and nothing more. But sometimes pretending otherwise had its benefits.

“Isn’t wearing black to a wedding bad luck?” Bob mumbles as you enter the elaborate dining hall side-by-side. (Valentina’s wedding had only two rules: all guests must wear black, and absolutely no kids.) It made Bob nervous, as most things tended to.

“It’s her fourth marriage,” you shrug. “It’s basically a funeral, anyway.”

You’re bombarded on entry by Alexei, who by the looks of it, had already pre-gamed in the Avengers Tower before coming.

“Ah! It’s the lovebirds!” he shouts, voice booming over everyone else’s. He turns to a total stranger passing by and motions to the two of you. “Aren’t they cute?” he asks the strange man, who just gives him a weird look in response. Alexei smiles anyway. “See? He agrees with me.”

“I don’t think he does…” Bob murmurs sincerely.

“It’ll be your turn next, eh?” Alexei chuckles, hitting the boy hard on the shoulder. Bob flinches under his tattooed hand despite being the most powerful Avenger the world’s ever seen. “Getting married. Being all… married.”

Bob hesitates, looking to you for an answer ‘cause he’s never been the best liar. You just smile, like it all comes too naturally to you. “Only if you promise to officiate the wedding,” you croon and wrap your left arm around Bob’s right one.

Alexei’s smile ebbs into a look of shock. His eyes go soft around the edges, filling with tears at the kind gesture.

“There would be no greater honor—” he tells you, Russian accent deep in his throat as he takes a step closer. He holds Bob’s wrist in one hand and yours in the other, shaking them for emphasis. “—Than uniting the two of you in marriage.”

You realize how seriously he’s taking it and start to flounder. “Well, you’ll be the first one we tell, Alexei,” you mumble awkwardly and slide your hand from his grip. “I promise.”

You’re dragging Bob away before the man can go on another half-drunken rant about a faux relationship and a wedding that will never happen.

You weave through the bustling crowd, hands instinctively entwining to stay together. 

“Do you think anyone would notice if we left?” Bob mumbles, nervously adjusting his tie with the hand not holding yours.

You look around, then shrug. “I don’t think I care.”

You end up sneaking into the kitchen before cocktail hour even starts, stealing a tray of sweets on your way to the wine cellar. Bob trails behind you like a lost puppy, distantly fearful of getting caught (because his omnipotence has yet to cancel out his perpetual anxiety.)

He paces back and forth while you try to pry the cork out of a vintage Merlot.

“I’m starting to feel bad,” Bob blurts suddenly, sweaty hands wringing into knots.

“Why?” you scoff with your mouthful, chewing through a tart chocolate-covered strawberry. “It’s just wine. No one will even know it’s missing—”

“No. About… lying to everyone.”

You freeze with half a strawberry still wadded in your cheek. “Oh…” you mumble, then swallow the rest of it down. You adjust the wine bottle between your anxious hands and stammer for a response. “Do you wanna… Do you wanna stop?”

The concept of stopping is slightly foreign to you. You've gotten so used to pretending to date him that sometimes you forget you're not actually dating.

Bob pauses his pacing to shift his weight on his feet. He shakes his head and answers honestly, “No. I don’t wanna stop, I just… don’t wanna lie.”

It’s a confession, albeit a vague one. He eyes you with a wide, attentive gaze and prays you get the hint. He can tell, by the sudden fearful look on your face, that you do. 

Your eyes flit to the ceiling as you smack your lips against your teeth, as though deep in thought. After a moment or more of silence, filled only by the distant swelling of violins, you nod. 

“Okay,” is all you say as you spin on your heel and turn away. You can’t face the vulnerability, so you choose to pick your battles and search for a cork screw for the impossible-to-open wine.

“O-Okay?” Bob stammers, nearly stumbling over himself to follow behind you.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I mean, we were already kind of doing it, so… We’re basically halfway there anyway, right?”

Bob’s sigh of relief comes out like a laugh as he leans against the counter beside you. “I just… I didn’t think it’d be that easy,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest in a feeble attempt to still his racing heart. “I would’ve asked you out forever ago if I did.”

The cork exits with a low, smoking pop. You inhale the scent of bitter grape as you bring the heavy bottle to your mouth. “How long have you been planning this?” you wonder with a laugh before taking a lengthy sip.

“Not long,” Bob insists with a shy shrug. “Maybe about… a year?”

You nearly choke on the dry wine. “So… Since we met?” you press, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Uh—” Bob trails off, voice an octave higher than usual, as his eyes dart to the ceiling. He tries to do the calculations in his head, but the days have all blurred together since the Sentry Project. All he knows is, at the very least, that he’s been in love with you since the day he met you. “—Yeah. That sounds about right.”

“Here,” you blurt, offering him the too-expensive bottle of wine in your hand. “I think you need this more than I do.”

You can’t help but falter at his admission — that all the time you spent together wasn’t just pretend. Not entirely. 

Every time you held hands in front of the team, cuddled on couches during movie nights, pretended to make out beneath the blankets so that whatever unfortunate team member was sent to recruit you for an early morning mission would leave the two of you out of it — some of it was actually real.

You can rest easy now knowing that you weren’t the only one who’d somehow fallen in love along the way. 

It was all Bob’s fault, really. 

But he’s more than happy to take the blame.

[asahehskafah]

every time I saw this post, I felt strange. It didn't feel like it applied to me, but I couldn't help pausing to stare out of the window for a moment.

It wasn't until last month that I realised it did.

A local transmasc had noticed me simply nodding along and saying 'same' when he was briefly summarising some of his trauma, instead of looking mildly to moderately shocked like everyone else at the meet-up. He pretty much cornered me in my DMs a while later when I was having a bad day and said 'hey do you wanna like. get into any of this?'

By that point I had already kinda figured out the deity identity stuff, but wasn't really that confident in owning it properly, nor had I figured out some of the more specific reasons why I felt it fit. He systematically deconstructed over 26 years worth of parental and societal trauma over a few days and it has made me realise how completely my internal structure is made up of nothing but a lattice barely-working beams that were never meant to be load-bearing, carefully constructed around a space of nothingness.

Lacking a sense of self is horrifying to me. My core is a void around which barely anything exists, except for a handful of preferences (I like specific times of stories, i dislike specific types of food, etc). I hadn't realised that I'd gone through so much of what I did until he literally ripped down the curtain shielding my introspection from going near that part of the room.

So seeing this post again, with the magnitude of mine own folly at last laid bare? It hurts. I am repressed. I've denied myself for nearly three decades. I've avoided doing anything to try to be myself because I've learnt from my past experiences that all it does is gets people hurt, and they hurt me back in the process. I feel like anything I'd do that would result in me taking up space endangers those around me, and thus endangers myself in response.

Making this account was a way for me to figure out what lays beneath the shell. I hesitate to even call it a mask, I don't think it's even vaguely reminiscent of humanity. I know it'll take time for me to find myself, but now that I'm aware of this wound at the centre of the world, it hurts so much to have to live with it.

I want to get through this. I need to live and survive and figure out what's on the other side of this barrier. I need to get out of my landlord(mother)'s house and cut her out of my life, have a space where I can actually figure out who I am and who I'm meant to be. But there's so much waiting involved while the 'affordable' housing company im on the waiting list for (and have been for over 6 months) does their thing, and I don't know how much longer I can hold out.

As I'm writing this, I'm AFK in FF14, listening to one of my favourite melancholy songs and sitting in a field of Elpis flowers, blooms meant to represent hope. The song is about the journey we've already walked, and how we've survived it. 'Unbroken promises we made so long ago. You're still here.' It makes me sob wretchedly to think about how I've survived this far, through the lens of this song. 'Always, night follows day. The sun will shine again. Walk on, never look back.'

I hope I can keep going.

i keep meeting transfems whose personalities are like, gaping wounds. girls who've been stomped on over and over until they start thinking they're uniquely evil and they deserve it. people shouldn't be allowed to treat us like this.

[nineteenninety-six]

Totally respect the ocd response

Maybe just Jack abbot with teen daughter who gets overwhelmed easily?

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Daughter!Reader

AN: I'm sure this is not what you wanted but I struggled with this so sorry :( This is only 500 words.

Warning: panic attack-ish (kinda)

Easily overwhelmed. That's how your dad described you, and it was true, you were. Crowded hallways, loud voices, packed shopping centres, busy streets, they made you dizzy and your stomach twist. Your tendency to overthink always caused you to fall into a never-ending cycle of anxiety, stress and sickness.

You don't exactly know what set you off that morning, it wasn't any of the usual suspects but you were currently curled up on the floor of your shower, the water now cold, drenching you in freezing water as you stared blankly at the wall. You were only brought out of your state when you heard the telltale sounds of your dad's truck pulling up and the garage door opening.

You sit up straight with a stuttered gasp and you turn your shower off with shaky hands and stumble out of the shower, wrapping yourself in your robe. Your steps are slow and shaky as you made your way to your bedroom and you distantly hear your dad enter the house as you check your phone and gasp at the time. You were meant to be at school hours ago and your dad was not going to be happy especially not after a twelve-hour night shift.

Your dad pauses what he was doing when he hears you stumble down the stairs, a frown forming on his lips as he speaks to you, "It’s nine in the morning, what the hell are you doing here? Why aren't you at school?"

“I-I don’t’ know…” You shrug helplessly at him, your voice hushed “All I can remember is a few minutes ago when you got home.”

Your dad takes the moment to really look at you and his expression transforms into one of understanding, his previous frustrations melting away as he realises what was happening.

“You hungry?” Your dad asks, his voice soft, “I can whip up some eggs and toast for us.”

You slowly nod and your dad smiles at you, “Why don’t you go get changed into some comfortable clothes and it’ll be ready when you’re done.”

You nod again and disappear upstairs, hoping that a few hours spent with your dad before he inevitably passes out on the couch will make things better for you.

Sure enough, when you return to the kitchen there’s a plate of breakfast waiting for you alongside a mug of tea.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Your dad asks after he takes a sip of his decaf coffee.

“I’m not sure what there is to talk about…I think I just got caught up in my head.”

“Why? Do you have any exams coming up?” Your dad presses.

“No,” You shake your head, “Usually I remember what the trigger is but not today.”

“Okay,” Your dad looks at you with his doctor eyes, “You can rest today but I expect you back at school tomorrow.”

“Sure.” You were already feeling better anyway.

Your dad finished his breakfast and dumped his plate and mug in the sink, “You joining me on the couch? I’ve got maybe fifteen minutes of consciousness if you wanna talk more.”

You quickly stuff the last mouthful in your mouth, dumping your plate with his as you follow him into the living room bringing your tea with you, “I’m coming!”

[mintyys-blog]

Hi Minty!!! I’ve been waiting for your requests to be open! I’m so happy they are!

my request is- what would the main Mark Grayson and his variants react to seeing their reader in a bunny costume? The tuxedo/ playboy ones. Maybe it’s for Halloween, a charity event or just for fun? This is very basic, I apologise 😔

HEADCANON | variants with s/o who dressed up like a playboy bunny

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: implied sex

MAIN MARK

Mark had been trying to guess your Halloween costume all week. You’d dodged every question with a sly grin and vague answers, telling him it was “just something cute, nothing crazy.” So when you finally walked out of the bedroom—ears perched, fishnets hugging your legs, and the glossy black bodysuit clinging in exactly the right places—he choked on his drink.

“Whoa—wait. Wait, wait.” He stood up, eyes wide and immediately locked onto you. “That’s your costume?”

You twirled playfully, pretending to fluff your little cotton tail. “You like?”

He just stared for a second too long. And then: “That’s… wow. That’s illegal. That’s gotta be illegal.”

You laughed, cheeks heating up. “It’s just a costume, Mark.”

“Not on you it’s not. Jesus, you look like you stepped off one of those old magazines. Not that I’ve seen them or anything.” His ears went pink.

You sauntered closer, placing a hand on his chest and tilting your head up, grinning. “Are you saying I should’ve been a Playboy bunny full-time?”

He swallowed hard. “Babe, if you were—there would’ve been riots.” Then he leaned in, his voice lower, teasing. “You sure this is for Halloween? Because you do know we’re not gonna make it to the party, right?” You laughed again, tugging him by the collar. “I figured that might happen.”

MOHAWK MARK

Mark wasn’t even looking for anything in particular. He was digging through a stack of old books and papers you’d stuffed into a box labeled “college crap” when a glossy, slightly worn magazine slipped out and hit the floor. He was going to toss it back in—until he saw you on the cover.

Playboy Bunny. Full costume. Full smile. Full thighs in fishnets, bodysuit hugging your curves like it was custom-made. He blinked, then looked again. You, back arched slightly, with a fake champagne glass raised in a toast. “Well, well, well…” Mark murmured, a smirk crawling across his face. “What do we have here?” You heard him from the other room. “What?”

“Nothing,” he called. But his voice was too smug. You knew that tone. When he finally came into the room, he held up the magazine like it was a trophy. “Care to explain, sweetheart?” Your stomach dropped. “Oh god—where did you find that?”

“Oh don’t be shy now,” he said, flipping the cover back toward you. “I mean, if this was hiding in a box, what else are you hiding from me?” You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “It was for a themed charity event! I was like, twenty!”

“Uh-huh. And the fact that you’re smiling and clearly enjoying it—was that for charity too?” he teased, leaning on the wall like he had all the time in the world. You peeked through your fingers. He looked way too entertained by this. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.” He folded the magazine and tapped it against his palm. “Actually… I’ve got an idea.” You narrowed your eyes. “What.”

“Go put it on.” You gawked. “Mark—!”

“Come on,” he grinned. “You have it. Don’t lie. Girls like you don’t toss stuff like that. You keep it in the back of your closet for rainy days and ego boosts.” You tried to act offended but… he wasn’t wrong.

He raised an eyebrow. “Put it on. For me. Please. I promise not to show the magazine to anyone.” You sighed, then rolled your eyes with a small, embarrassed grin. “Fine. But if it doesn’t fit anymore—”

“Oh, trust me,” he cut in, already looking you up and down. “It’ll fit. Even better than before.” And it did. And he didn’t shut up about it for days.

SINISTER MARK

Mark was sorting through digital records—some surveillance junk that his people hadn’t properly encrypted yet—when he saw the thumbnail. At first, he thought it was some AI-generated crap, maybe a deepfake. But the longer he stared, the more familiar the body looked.

And then he saw the face.

You. In a bunny costume. Posing like sin itself in fishnets, glossy black fabric, the little white puff on your tail and ears crooked from how much you were clearly laughing in the outtakes. It was old, clearly—but unmistakably you.

When you walked in later that night, you noticed something was off immediately. He was seated, legs spread, elbows on his knees, the file still open in front of him. But it wasn’t anger in his expression—it was… amusement. “Hey,” you greeted cautiously, setting your bag down. “You okay?”

“…You ever plan on telling me?” he asked. His voice was quiet. Controlled. That was never a good sign.

You froze. “Tell you what?” He turned the screen toward you. Your heart dropped. “Shit.”

“Mmhmm.” He leaned back, watching your face. “Cute ears.”

You started rambling, “Okay, okay—it was a long time ago, a stupid gig, I needed money—”

“I’m not mad.” You stopped. “…What?”

“I said I’m not mad.” His voice was low. Smooth. “You think I don’t know who I’m with? That I haven’t imagined you in far less?” He smirked now, slow and deliberate. “I just didn’t know there were pictures.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You weren’t sure if you should be relieved or embarrassed. “so,” he continued, standing up slowly. “do you still have it?”

Your face flushed hot. “I… maybe.” He stepped closer, backing you up toward the wall. “you gonna put it on for me?”

“You really want to see it?” you asked, barely able to look him in the eye. Mark chuckled, hand ghosting your waist. “I want to ruin it.” That night, he didn’t just make you wear it—he made you pose in it, for him. Except this time, he was the only one who can see you, his little bunny.

OMNI MARK

Mark was never one for Earth’s festivities. Halloween, especially, seemed juvenile to him—an entire planet playing dress-up for candy and cheap scares. But this year, you insisted. Said it’d be fun. Said he needed to “loosen up.” He hadn’t expected this kind of costume.

You stepped out of the bedroom slowly, high heels tapping against the hardwood, tugging at the tight tuxedo-style bodysuit that hugged your curves like it was made for you. Fishnet stockings. Satin bunny ears. The iconic collar and cuffs.

He looked up from the book he’d been half-reading, eyes immediately locking onto you. For a moment, he said nothing. Just looked. You shifted nervously under the silence. “Too much?” you asked.

“No,” he said finally, voice low. “Not enough.” You flushed, lips parting in surprise. Mark stood slowly, his massive form suddenly seeming even larger as he approached, eyes devouring every inch of your exposed skin.

“This is what you wore… for Halloween?” he asked. You nodded. “I thought it’d be fun. For you.”

He paused, just inches from you now, and gently tugged at one of the bunny ears. “You enjoy dressing up like this?” You laughed nervously. “I mean… it’s different.” His hand slid along your waist, firm and warm through the fabric. “It’s distracting.”

“In a good way?” Mark leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “In a very good way.”

He didn’t rip the costume. Not immediately. He liked to take his time when he appreciated something. And this? This, he appreciated. And for the rest of the night, he proved that in very deliberate, very focused ways—showing you just how much he valued your “efforts for the holiday.”

PRISONER MARK

Mark had a rough edge to everything he did—even the way he slammed the door shut after coming back from dropping off your kid at daycare. His boots hit the floor heavy, the air still carrying the trace of his gruff, amused voice from teasing the toddler before handing them off.

He wasn’t expecting you like this though.

Leaning against the bedroom doorway in your old playboy bunny costume, one hip cocked, a soft little smirk on your lips like you weren’t setting his entire world on fire.

“I think I still got it,” you said, eyes flicking over him with that old teasing glint. “Right?”

He froze—just for a second. Took you in, from the glossy ears to the way the fishnet hugged your thighs, down to the sharp little heels you wore like you weren’t the mother of his child, like you weren’t dangerous just standing there smiling at him.

Then he smiled. That low, crooked grin that spelled trouble.

“Damn right you do,” he muttered, already tugging off his jacket and tossing it somewhere behind him. “Come here, bunny.”

You didn’t move. Not right away. Just stood there watching him approach like you were the one in control of the situation.

You weren’t. Not for long.

He caught you around the waist, pulling you close, hands not shy about grabbing your ass through the tight fabric.

“I should’ve never let you put this damn thing in storage,” he growled, mouth brushing your neck. “You’re lucky I got any self-control left.” You chuckled breathlessly. “Do you?” He laughed—low, hungry, dark. “No. Not even a little.”

VILTRUMITE MARK

Mark wasn’t easily fazed. A seasoned warrior, a husband, and now a father—he’d seen battlefields soaked in blood, stood against uprisings and rebellions, watched empires fall. Very little surprised him.

But walking into your shared quarters and seeing you in that? A black satin corset, fluffy white tail, thigh-high fishnets, and a headband with soft bunny ears?

He stopped. Blinked once. “…What are you wearing?”

You tilted your head, leaning one hand on your hip. “It’s a playboy bunny costume. Y’know…for Halloween?” You gave him a little twirl, smirking when his eyes followed every curve. “They’re kind of iconic.”

Mark narrowed his eyes slightly, stepping forward. “Is this some kind of Earth thing?” He was calm, composed—curious—but there was something lurking under the surface. Interest, maybe. Or hunger.

You giggled, brushing your fingers under his chin. “It’s supposed to be sexy. Do you not like it?”

“I didn’t say that.” His hands found your waist, rough thumbs brushing the lace edging. “I just don’t understand the point of pretending to be prey when you look like this.” You blinked. “Wait…is that a thing on Viltrum? Do people dress like—”

He silenced you with a slow kiss. Deep. Firm. And when he pulled back, his hands had slid lower. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not complaining. In fact…” His voice dropped a little. “…you should wear this more often.” You raised a brow. “Even when it’s not Halloween?”

He nodded, calm as ever. “Especially when it’s not Halloween.” He didn’t get the reference. But he understood enough to know you were his, and you looked good in anything—especially something designed to tease

[jellesreid]

Communication

In which Spencer and the reader have their first time together after the reader has cold feet about sex (smut!)

masterlist

tags: age gap, munch!spencer reid, bad sex, smut, giver boyfriend, fingering, eating out, kissing, making out, first time, cold feet, honeymoon phase, early relationship, love, relationship, subtle masturbation

warnings: talks of past bad sex, talks of masturbation, fingering, mention of vibrators, spencer going down on reader

notes: sorry for being away so long but i’m back!! I’ll be more active after june tho!

———————————————————

You and Spencer met through one of your close friends, Penelope Garcia, around four months ago, and your relationship was going great. The only thing you worried about was your almost 10-year age gap. Spencer was 33, and you were recently 24. There were a lot more things he had experienced that you hadn’t, and you didn’t want them to interfere with your relationship.

One of these things was sex. It wasn’t that you didn’t like sex you had done it a couple of times but it wasn’t enjoyable, you had more pleasure in doing it yourself than either of the times you had been with men in the past.

You knew Spencer was a man, he most likely wanted to have sex but you also knew he was respectful and would never force you to do something you didn’t want to. You’d spoken to Penelope about it and she told you to speak to Spencer about it but that was over a month ago.

Spencer was at your apartment watching a movie and you had been kissing for a little while until you pulled away and turned back to the TV.

Spencer fidgeted beside you rubbing his shoulder after getting comfortable, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You said not looking away from the TV. 

“I think we need to talk about something,” Spencer said pausing the movie. 

“What is it?” You asked turning to face him again, spotting that he was flustered. 

“Are you… attracted to me?” He asked. 

“Yeah obviously baby,” You said kissing his cheek, “Play the movie?”

“No that’s not all…”

“What is it?” You asked again.

“I don’t want you to think I’m rushing you or that this is a massive deal to me but I think it’s something we should discuss…” Spencer started. 

“Okay,” You dragged out the last letter of the word. 

“We’ve been together 4 months by that time most people have gone further than kissing on the sofa, I didn’t want to bring it up because it doesn’t bother me that we aren’t having sex, I would love to when you’re ready I want to make you feel good… sexually.”

“Oh, right well I’m just not compatible with sex stuff so it doesn’t matter to me but I know guys want or need sex so I understand you asking.”

“No honey, I don’t need sex, I went a long time of my life without it. Wait what do you mean you’re not compatible with it?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.

“Umm,” You blushed and looked down, “Men can’t make me… you know orgasm.”

“That’s not got anything to do with you or your compatibility with sex,” Spencer said.

“What do you mean? It’s definitely something wrong with me if both the men I’ve been with haven’t been able to get me there,” You rolled your eyes so Spencer couldn’t see.

“Let me ask you some questions, is that okay?”

“I suppose.”

“Do you masturbate?” Spencer asked without hesitation. 

You blinked and opened your mouth to speak but closed it again not

expecting that to be his first question, “Sorry, I didn’t expect- um yeah I do.”

“And do you reach an orgasm on your own?” 

“Yeah… most of the time,” You looked up at him.

“There, there’s no problem with you it’s just the men you were with.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You said yourself you orgasm when you’re spending time on yourself, you know what you like so you’re the best example to go off. If you need me to keep going I can ask, Did these men do any kind of foreplay?”

“Not really,” You shrugged.

“Foreplay is essential, studies show that only thirty percent of women can orgasm by intercourse alone,” Spencer said tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Really? So it’s common?” 

Spencer hummed, “Yes sweetheart you need someone who communicates with you that’s the main factor. Communication.”

“Okay… I’m happy to try having sex,” You said, you were already slightly turned on from the kissing and his factual knowledge of female orgasms.

“Not today,” Spencer said.

“Oh… okay,” You shrugged feeling slightly rejected.

“Wait I mean I want to make you come,” Spencer corrected himself, “without sex, I want to show you how you should be treated.”

You smiled, “Okay, how?” 

“You are going to tell me what you like while I touch you,” Spencer said but phrased it more like a question that you needed to respond to. 

“Okay.” 

Spencer tilted your head up with his thumb and finger before leaning in to kiss you once again. 

Your kisses were a little more electric and passionate than usual and when your tongues curled together a wave of butterflies burst inside your stomach. A small gasp escaped your mouth when one of Spencer’s hands moved to your thigh, running it over your clothes. 

“Is that nice?” Spencer asked pulling back from the kiss. 

“Yes,” You reconnect your lips before he squeezes your thigh. 

The kissing continued for a little while until you pulled away, “What’s next?” You asked out of breath. 

“What do you usually do?” Spencer asked, a hand moving to your hair and playing with it. 

“Well, I like being in my bedroom for starters.”

“Should we go there?” 

You nod, standing up from the sofa and taking his hand. He’d been in your bedroom before when he had slept over but this was different. 

“What next?” He asked sitting on the end of the bed. 

“I usually use a vibrator, sometimes I finger myself,” You couldn’t help but blush at your words, you couldn’t believe you were telling your boyfriend this. 

“Good, we can work with that,” Spencer smiled, pulling you closer to him. 

“I don’t want you to use my vibrator on me.”

“That’s fine honey,” Spencer kissed your swollen lips once again. 

You took it upon yourself to lay down on your bed after your lips disconnected. 

Spencer lingered over the top of you playing with the hem of your shirt, “Can I undress you?” 

“Yes,” Within a matter of minutes, your clothes minus your panties were on the floor. 

“You’re beautiful,” Spencer kissed your collarbone and the tops of your breasts. 

“Thank you,” You sighed softly. 

“I’m going to start here okay?” Spencer asked his mouth in line with your left breast. 

“Mhm o-okay.”

He lowered his mouth to your nipple taking it inside his mouth and lapping circles around it in between quick sucks while he massaged the other one.

“Oh,” A breathy moan left your mouth, “That feels so good.”

Spencer hummed sending vibrations to your breast. Your fingers threaded in his hair pulling it gently neither of the men you had been with before had ever done this. 

Spencer switched breasts doing the same for your right one as he had the left. You felt yourself growing wetter than you had ever felt, he knew exactly what he was doing. 

One of his hands made its way between your legs as he used two fingers to run over the fabric of your panties.

“You’re wet honey,” He dipped his fingers inside the underwear, “Do you want me to take them off?” 

“Yes please,” You sigh with pleasure. 

Spencer slid the underwear down your legs throwing them somewhere on the floor, “I might have to buy you a new pair,” he laughed. 

His soft fingers connected with the slick wetness between your folds rubbing from the entrance to your clit several times. He used his middle and ring fingers to rub the small nub of nerves in circles in a mix of different pressures to see what brought the best reaction out of you. 

The harder he pressed the more your eyes flickered closed, it felt amazing what he was doing, “Mhm Spence.”

“Is this good baby?” Spencer asked massaging it faster. 

“A-amazing,” You stuttered with a moan. 

Without much notice he used his other hand to start penetrating, He pushed his middle finger inside of you slowly making sure not to hurt you as he entered.

Long breathily moans exited your mouth at the feeling of him inside of you and the moans only got louder as he curled the finger moving it in and out a bit faster making sure to hit the spongy wall inside of you. 

“More,” You groaned, You could feel your stomach tightening but nothing like how it usually felt when you came on your own. You didn’t want to be upset but you were starting to feel frustrated that nothing anyone else did to you could ever get you to that point. 

Spencer plunged another finger inside of you copying the same movement as the first finger, curling it and moving both of them at a quick pace. 

“I can’t,” You groaned in frustration. 

“Honey, you can, I’m here for you. What doesn’t feel good?” Spencer asked stilling his fingers. 

“It feels good, so good, it’s just taking too long,” You frowned. 

“It’s not taking too long, It will take as long as it takes, I’ll be here for hours if I have to,” Spencer thrust his fingers again, adding his thumb to rub on your clit.  

You took your breast into your hands and fondled with your nipples to try to add some extra pleasure. 

“I’m going to try something else,” Spencer said. He kept his fingers inside of you still pushing them into your g-spot but he removed his thumb from your clit. 

In a matter of a few seconds, his mouth was on you, flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves. 

You rolled your eyes back, the subtle ache burning inside your stomach. It intensified as his lips attached to your swollen clit sucking it gently. 

“Spencer, fuck!” You growled while trying to catch your breath. 

When he realised it was working based on the sounds you made and the clenching around his fingers he sped up both of the actions; sucking harder and thrusting harder and deeper. 

This was the familiar sensation you felt from when you used your vibrator burned inside of your stomach, “Please don’t stop,” You moaned grabbing hold of his hair. 

“Yes, Yes Spencer oh my god!” You rocked against his face to pick up as much friction as possible. 

Your walls fluttered around his fingers as he sucked harder on your clit just before you came undone, his name falling from your mouth with loud moans.

After regaining your breath he removed his fingers, sucking them clean to taste all of you. 

“Oh my god, thank you,” You pulled him up between your legs so his head was resting near your chest as you kissed his lips. 

“Honey there’s no need to thank me, I’ll always make sure that happens.” 

“That may have been the best orgasm I've ever had in my life,” You giggled. 

“I’m going to keep competing with myself to give you better ones each time,” Spencer smiled, laying his head on your breasts and using them as a pillow.

“What can I do for you?” You asked running your fingertips through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

“Nothing honey, Just this is perfect. Tonight was about you,” He said, closing his eyes. 

[cherry-blossom-honey]

Love is about period baskets (Bob Reynolds x F! Reader fluff)

Bob wants to help his girlfriend when she is in pain, so he asks Yelena what to do.

Warning: Just the reader having painful periods and use of (y/n) literally two times

A/N: I suffer from terrible PMS and periods so I'm feeling soft today!

Bob was worried.

You've been dating for less than a month and it was his first time seeing you like that; usually, you were the first person from the team to wake up, cooking breakfast and making sure that nobody overslept.

This time you weren't there.

—I-is (y/n) okay? She told me she was gonna sleep for ten more minutes, but she looked sick— Bob said, with the usual hint of sadness in his eyes.

—Easy, little man. You are not going to die if you're separated for a while— Alexei chuckled, drinking his coffee.

—Don't be rude, idiot— Yelena spat to the bearded man before facing Bob— Do you know what periods are?

—I've heard of them, blood comes out of a woman's-

—YES, yes. Got it— The blonde interrumpted, her cheeks turning red.— And (y/n) has some issues with them. Hers are really painful, so she can't really leave the bed when it happens.

The dark haired man nodded shyly. He wanted to help his girlfriend, the idea of her suffering hurt him.

—Well, you know. You could make her a period basket, and I will help you with that.

—A period basket?— Bob and Alexei said at unison. Yelena sighed.

Men

After a few hours, the duo encouraged your boyfriend to knock on your door. You obviously invited him to come in and he awkwardly handed you a pretty pink box with a white bow. It was full of cute and useful things; pads, painkillers, tea bags and a hot water bottle.

—Oh, Bob— you said, wiping the tears off your eyes— This is beautiful, thank you so much, my love.

—It's for your period— he smiled, looking down— There's more under the hot water thing.

A period basket can't be completed without snacks, and he got you a perfect mix of sweet and salty stuff.

—Peanut butter chocolates?? You are the best, I love these!

—Yelena told me to get them because they're your favorite and you both eat them together— It was obvious that your best friend helped him a little.— Oh! And this is also for you

You looked at him confused as he took his hoodie off, showing a little bit of his toned abs.

—Are you gonna gift me an striptease or what?— You laughed, secretly loving the thought of it.

Bob blushed so intensely you thought he was going to explode.

—Oh, n-no. The hoodie, it's for you. I got more of them so you can keep this one.

That was the sweetest thing somebody has ever done to you. For the first time in at least two days, you got out of the bed only to hug him tight. Bob's big arms surrounded you as if you were his entire world.

—I don't feel so good. Would you cuddle with me?— you asked softly, still hugging him

—Of course I will— Now, he smiled looking directly at you

Once you both lied in bed, you fell asleep to the warmth of his body and his calm breathing.

She's so beautiful, Bob thought, kissing your forehead before closing his own eyes.

[angstywaifu]

Fourth Wing Head Canons - Drinking

Request/Summary: How would the Fourth Wing men react to you being drunk and how would they take care of you. Warnings: Drunk reader. Onyx Storm Spoiler - Aaric Signet.

Masterlist | Links

Garrick Tavis

You can definitely expect some dry humour from him. You’d stumble in an attempt to manoeuvre around him, his hand flying out to steady you. “You really thought six shots of that stuff was a good idea? Gods, you're a menace.” He’d say with a shake of his head before releasing you.

After this Garrick slows down on his drinking, not wanting to risk you doing something stupid and not being able to help you. The rest of the night he’s right there, even if he’s not interacting with you. You’re doing shots with the girls? He’s standing off to the side to make sure you don’t go too hard. You go dancing? He’s leaning up against the closest wall or table to keep an eye on you.

Towards the end of the night he’d slowly start replacing your drinks with sips of water to try help the inevitable hangover you were going to have tomorrow. He was not dealing with how irritable you were going to be if he could help it.

He’d help you back to your room, not wanting to risk you getting lost or somewhere you didn’t need to be. He’d roll his eyes every time you got distracted, before he’d guide you back. Once back at your room he’d sit you down on your bed and hand you some water. “Sit. Drink this. Sleep it off.”

You’d open your mouth to argue back, but the way he looks at you has you snapping your mouth shut and nodding your head before taking a drink of the water and laying down on the bed. When you wake up, there's another drink of water next to your bed along with a well needed remedy from the healers to help with your hangover. And you can’t help but smile at the gesture.

Xaden Riorson

He’d see you across the room and instantly know you’re well more than the tipsy you promised him. You’re full on drunk, carrying on with Imogen and Quinn. His jaw would tick as he clenches it, his eyes darking with a mix of anger and protectiveness.

Within seconds he’s at your side, guiding you away from your friends with a firm hand on your lower back. And you don’t even object, neither do Imogen and Quinn. You all know better than to fight back with him.

He takes you back to your room, guiding you over to the bed as he crouches in front of you. “What were you thinking?” He’d ask, shaking his head before getting you water, and making sure you drank all of it before curling up in bed.

Even after you’re fast asleep, he’d stay. He’d take his place at your desk, trying to get comfortable in the chair that is way too small for him. But he doesn’t move till you wake up.

You’d wake up, smile at him as you’re completely oblivious to what had happened the night before as you’re met with a stern look. “We’re going to talk about last night. But after you get some water and don’t look like death.” He’d say almost too calmly. You know he’s pissed, but it’s because he cares.

Bodhi Durran

Unlike Xaden or Garrick, he’s just as drunk as you are. He’s right there with you doing shots. But the second you start swaying a little too much, slurring your words and even attempting to start a conversation with a painting, he’s sober.

He’d turn looking after you into a fun adventure, not wanting you to realise what he’s actually doing. Making you think he’s just as far gone as you and lost his mind. As you stumble again he catches you, “My companion has fallen, make way while I get them to safety!” He’d declare as you start giggling at his antics.

He’d quickly take you to a quiet corner of the room, sitting you down on a bench as he sits next to you. On the way over he’d managed to grab some food and had picked a table with pitchers of water.

“Drink this, and eat this. My fallen companion needs to heal up.” He tells you with a soft smile, and you easily take the food and drink he offers which makes him sigh with relief.

Once you start to sober up after a lot more ‘healing’ and spontaneous escape attempts, he leads you back to your room where you collapse on the bed and instantly fall asleep. Not wanting to leave you alone, Bodhi grabs the pillow you haven’t fallen asleep on and lays down on the floor.

You wake him up by throwing your pillow at him, causing him to startle awake as he jolts upright. A panicked look in his eyes as his head whips around the room before landing on you and the questioning look on your face.

“I was not risking you going off on another drunk adventure if you woke up in the middle of the night. Especially after you got upset because your shoe looked sad and needed a friend.”

Dain Aetos

He’d spot you being unsteady or loud seconds after it happened. He’d immediately be in “fix it” mode before you could turn to your friends and say “another round”.

He is at your side immediately. Reaching out and taking the drink from your hand, hands steadying you like you’re made of glass and about to break as he guides you from the room like he’s on an extraction mission.

You’d try to wave him off, tell him you’re fine, causing his eyes to narrow in disapproval. “You’re not fine. Stop pretending.”

Once you’re back at your room he goes into full caretaker mode. He’d tell you exactly what to do. “Drink this. No, slowly. No, don’t argue with me. You’re going to regret this in the morning if you don’t listen. And I am not dealing with it.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but you know he isn’t wrong. You know if you don’t listen to him and do as he says, you’ll wake up tomorrow with a pounding headache and regret everything. This wasn’t his first time looking after you like this.

The next morning he’s at your door, making sure you’re ok and not regretting the night before. Once he’s happy you’re functional he’s taking you down to breakfast to get a solid meal in to help you get through the day.

Aaric Graycastle

Thanks to his signet, he already knew this was coming. But he still lets you have your fun as you drink and dance with your friends. He turns his back for one second, and once he’s looking back at you and see’s a guy approaching you and see’s where his intentions are leading, he’s shoving through the crowd to your side.

As he walks over the guy looks up, and he gives him a look that says “try it and I’ll ruin your life” which has him scurrying away before Aaric can get too close. Once he’s at your side he guides you away with a steady hand on your back.

As he leads you away you stumble and sway, causing you to apologise profusely about how drunk you got and how weak that makes you because you should know better given the situation you’re all in. But he doesn’t care, “you’re allowed to let go sometimes. That doesn’t make you weak” he tells you with a soft smile. A smile he reserves only for you.

He stays by you the rest of the night, laughing when you attempt to challenge him to a duel when he refuses to let you go for another round of shots with your friends before leading you back to your room.

Halfway there you start to fall victim to the amount of drinking you’d done, Aaric scooping you up into his arms as he carries you the rest of the way there.

The next morning he’s knocking at your door, which you open groggily as you lean against the doorframe. “Come on princess, lets get you some breakfast. Going to need that strength for the duel you challenged me to.”

Ridoc Gamlyn

Lets be honest. If you’re drunk, he’s drunk. And he ain’t doing anything to help you initially. You two would be doing shots and dancing the night away. He’d probably be trying to convince you to pull some prank, or spend the night attempting to get Xaden drunk just to see how he’d act.

But eventually he see’s you struggling. You become wobbly, skin pale and he gets worried you’re about to vomit. “You can’t puke on me. I’m too hot for that. Need to look my best to get that third year flier.” He’d say teasingly, but in reality he’s worried about you. And the way you’re acting is enough to sober him up.

He’d take you to his room instead of yours. He’d sit you on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable before giving you some water he’d chilled slightly for you, before raiding his secret stash of snacks he keeps on hand which you try to bat away in your drunken state. “Don’t fight me on this. I will sit on you if I have to.”

Once you start drinking the water and eating the snacks he offers, he sits on the floor next to the bed. He’d crack jokes and tell stories of the pranks he’d pulled on Aotrom to keep your mind off how you’re feeling. He doesn’t even realise you’re asleep till the glass of water you’d been cradling tips over and spills all over him, causing him to yelp with surprise before chuckling at you and curling up on the floor.

In the morning he’s already awake when you are, giving you the biggest grin as you slowly wake up. “Oh fantastic, you’re awake. About time to. You owe me your soul. And maybe a kidney for how much we drank.” You glare at him as you chuck the pillow at him, only causing him to laugh at your behaviour.

Sawyer Henrick.

The moment he notices you’re drunk he’s already in action mode. He’d be scanning the room for a quiet spot to take you if there is one, where the water is, or if he’s better of taking you to your room. He quickly decides getting you back to your room is the best move, and he’s quickly at your side as he offers you his arm.

It takes him a bit to get you out of the room, as you’re convinced you need to confess you’re love to the man you just passed. The man in question was actually a pillar with a banner on it. And when he says you can’t you start crying about it. “It’s ok, you can cry. You have very valid pillar related feelings.” He tells you with a shake of his had.

He’d lay you down in your bed as soon as you get back to your room. Sitting beside your bed as he assesses you to make sure you’re ok. His hands alternating between offering you water, adjusting your blanket, making sure you’re not going to be sick.

Once you fall asleep he starts to relax, but he can’t bring himself to leave you just yet. He stays seated in the chair, watching you for a little bit longer to make you sure stay asleep. Which turns into a few hours. Which then turns into mild panic as he realises he has morning duties to attend to.

Once he’s done though he’s back at your door. In his hands is water, snacks, and a detailed list of things to help with your hangover from one of the healers he had run into on the way. He is fully prepared to help you with your hangover.

Brennan Sorrengail

He’d know you’re drunk even before you’d stumble or slur your words. He’s noted the subtle change in your posture, or the way you hold your cup. He’d just look at you, and in a flat and certain tone state the obvious. “You’re drunk.”

You go to protest but he’s already in action. He’s gently relieving you of your drink before placing his hand on the small of your back, steadily guiding you through the crowded room without drawing any attention to the two of you leaving. He doesn’t need the gossip of taking someone back to his room.

Which he does end up doing. He guides you over to his bed, sitting you on the edge before going into mender mode. He pulls out a remedy he has on hand and pours you a glass of water from a pitcher he keeps on hand. “Deep breaths and sip this slowly” He tells you as he hands you the remedy.

As you do what he says he does an assessment of you. Checks your temperature with the back of his hand, checks your eyes to make sure you’re not about to pass out on him. Once he’s happy all you are is a little drunk and at not risk of being sick, he relaxes.

Despite how big his bed is, he opts to sleep in a chair next to the bed instead. Not wanting to intrude or make you think something had happened if you woke up and didn’t remember anything.

As soon as you stir he wakes, not being able to fully sleep in case you needed him during the night. And immediately he’s making sure you’re ok. Giving you another remedy just to make sure you’re at your best for the day.

[snowgray]

I think that they need to include the full interviews verbatim, as well as the directions; I can imagine a college kid, who is doing this for free, not realizing the extent of how much they're allowed to look up, because there is a ton of required context knowledge. Or also not caring that much because they’re doing this for free and it’s not a grade. Also, this book might have been a masterpiece of social activism writing in its time, but it is fucking boring and dense now.

Here’s a few paragraphs. This took me about 45 minutes, but I’m pretty sick. Also I am very good at and highly educated in English, and this was my second read-through (I've never read the whole book; I read this and the preface when the first post about the study was going around).

Paragraph 1

London. <— We’re in London. Maybe this is a diary because people sometimes start diary entries with where they are (and the next sentence sorta gives that vibe too).

Michaelmas term lately over, and the Lord Chancellor sitting in Lincoln’s Inn Hall. <— Michaelmas is in the autumn, which I sorta knew from Jane Austen, but can definitely say for sure based on the sentence after this one. I looked up Chancery from the chapter title, so I know it’s a court. I fully read about 10 minutes of content about the Chancery and I’m still not sure what it involves, other than, like, property and custody cases? The Lord Chancellor is, I’m assuming, the judge of this court, and Lincoln’s Inn Hall must be where the court is physically located.

Implacable November weather. <— The weather is shitty, but also implacable is a person whose mind can’t be changed, so that might be some foreshadowing.

As much mud in the streets as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill. <— This “wonderful” is the use of, like, surprising, not the modern use. The weather is so bad it’s like the flood of Noah just receded and dinosaurs are still roaming the earth. Although this dinosaur sounds kinda cute because he’s waddling. Or it's a commentary on fat rich people.

Smoke lowering down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle, with flakes of soot in it as big as full-grown snowflakes—gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun. <— I already know that London in this time had an epic smog problem, but between the rain and the smog, everything is blackened. The mood is also dark because the rain is related to ‘mourning.’ Dickens sure do be layin’ it on thick.

Dogs, undistinguishable in mire. <— The dogs are covered in mud, to the point that you don’t know what they are.

Horses, scarcely better; splashed to their very blinkers. <— Horses are muddied up to their eyes (blinkers/blinders were worn to keep them from being frightened in crowded cities).

Foot passengers, jostling one another’s umbrellas in a general infection of ill temper, and losing their foot-hold at street-corners, where tens of thousands of other foot passengers have been slipping and sliding since the day broke (if this day ever broke), adding new deposits to the crust upon crust of mud, sticking at those points tenaciously to the pavement, and accumulating at compound interest. <— Dickens is laying on the description as thick as the mud here. Everyone is grumpy and bumping each other with their umbrellas. The crowds of London have been slipping on this forever, the day seems to have lasted forever and also never dawned (if this day ever broke), and the extended bad weather is ‘accumulating at compound interest,’ increasing at a fast pace. Since we know courts about property are coming up because we looked up Chancery, the compound interest is in the vein of bad-stuff-lawyers/bankers-do.

Paragraph 2

Fog everywhere. <— It’s foggy.

Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; <— I looked up ait and it’s an island in a river. I’m assuming this is the Thames. Upriver sounds like the pretty neighborhood compared to:

fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. <— Downriver is the industrial area. Where it is also, you guessed it, real foggy.

Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. <— Fog in some more places. I didn't look this up because fuck geography.

Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; <— Fog on the ships carrying coal (I looked up collier).

fog lying out on the yards and hovering in the rigging of great ships; <— Fog in the shipyards and the ropes of the ships.

fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats. <— Fog on more boats. At this point, I know Dickens is doing something with the repetition of fog, but I don’t think it’s possible to argue that someone could know *yet* what the fog is symbolizing.

Fog in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners, wheezing by the firesides of their wards; <— Fog is choking the old people (pensioners) who are sickly (wheezing) and possibly in some non-home housing situation (wards). 

fog in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper, down in his close cabin; <— Finally, an allusion to Gilligan’s Island! JK, there’s some angry boatman who can’t light his pipe (maybe) because it’s all damp and foggy.

fog cruelly pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering little ’prentice boy on deck. <— More social commentary! Dickens did love that. This poor impoverished working child is foggily cold. Personification as the fog ‘pinches’ this kid.

Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon and hanging in the misty clouds. <— A simile comparing the density of the fog to a cloud; the people on the ground may feel as if they’re up in the sky because it’s just that foggy. Again, I can tell the fog is going to mean something, but I don’t think I have enough knowledge to know yet why this is here. It has big “snow was general all over Ireland” vibes, in the sense that a wide variety of people are impacted by the fog, though perhaps not any rich people? And also Joyce came later.

Paragraph 3

Gas looming through the fog in divers places in the streets, much as the sun may, from the spongey fields, be seen to loom by husbandman and ploughboy. <— The gas lamps aren’t really making a lot of headway versus the fog. But, it’s as important to the Londoners as the sun is to farmers. Except, IDK, does the sun loom? That’s a pretty darkish word. Keeping up with the dreary tone ol’ Dicksey has established.

Most of the shops lighted two hours before their time—as the gas seems to know, for it has a haggard and unwilling look.  <— The gas seems to be weak, since it was lit early (like literally you could have less gas if there was a lot of gas going at the same time; that's the plot of Gaslight), and also is ‘haggard and unwilling.’ Like, even the fucking light doesn’t want to be out right now. Also this might be an allusion or foreshadowing to the ineffectiveness of some kind of good that is fighting some kind of evil.

Paragraph 4

The raw afternoon is rawest, and the dense fog is densest, and the muddy streets are muddiest near that leaden-headed old obstruction, appropriate ornament for the threshold of a leaden-headed old corporation, Temple Bar. <— I had to look up Temple Bar, because my memory of it was, like, the one place I’ve been drunk in Ireland? Turns out in *London* it’s the entrance to London from Westminster? And maybe some courts were there? Anyway, the description as “leaden-headed” and “obstruction” gives big “here be the evil institution” vibes.

And hard by Temple Bar, in Lincoln’s Inn Hall, at the very heart of the fog, sits the Lord High Chancellor in his High Court of Chancery. <— Sounds like the Lord High Chancellor is petting his bald cat and holding his pinky to his mouth because he’s the very baddest bad guy in the heart of the fog.

Paragraph 5

Never can there come fog too thick, never can there come mud and mire too deep, to assort with the groping and floundering condition which this High Court of Chancery, most pestilent of hoary sinners, holds this day in the sight of heaven and earth. <— Ah ha. The mud and fog are representing the condition of the court. People are ‘groping and floundering’ with the court, so it’s difficult for them to get… results? Recognition? The court is like a disease (pestilent) and is unrepentant (sinners) and is old (hoary).

So I decided to read the actual study (link) - it's totally free. TL;DR: the study is testing how well people in the 21st century can understand the specific nuances of 19th century London. This is not "reading comprehension", they are testing whether you know things like what a "Michaelmas Term" (Wikipedia) is. This is... to put it politely, not a normal part of reading comprehension in any sort of day to day task. This study is exclusively about your ability to read and be familiar with the nuances of 19th century English Literature as a specific body.

The study structure was 20 minutes to read aloud seven paragraphs. So, while one was allowed a quick Google or a peek at the dictionary, there isn't really time to do any sort of deep dive - this is a test of whether you are already familiar with this sort of work.

---

Oh, but it wasn't just 20 minutes to read it out loud: every few sentences, the facilitator would poke the subject to explain the last few sentences. Not summarize, no: they wanted a full dissection. "Dickens is setting the atmosphere by describing the fog" was considered a failure of comprehension. The only explanation they provide that counts as a "pass" is almost twice as long as the actual passage itself!

It's not even really clear if they made it clear to the subjects that they were looking for this sort of verbose summary - the facilitator just replies "O.K." regardless of how detailed their response is.

I cannot imagine I would do terribly better, given 20 minutes to read aloud 7 paragraphs, and being constantly prodded to regurgitate the material at random intervals!

---

I really do NOT consider it worth reading, but here's a link to the original post for posterity's sake: https://www.tumblr.com/prettyboysdontlookatexplosions/783379386552516608?source=share

[mashtatosworld]

eyes on me (5)

summary: a break away from reality is healing - for all of you. but when you return to Seoul, the storm waiting for you is far from over.

You were tired of feeling hunted.

Every person who walked up to the counter at work, every too-long stare, every offhand comment - it left a coil of anxiety in your chest.

But when your coworker popped her head around the corner and sung with a smirk, “Lover boy’s here,” your body finally exhaled.

Daesung was standing by the door of the café, hands in the pockets of his jacket, smile soft. Even just his presence steadied you.

You took your break early.

Outside, under the cool air of the afternoon, he slid a small box across the table. AirPods.

“You said you were anxious on the phone the other day,” he said, shrugging like it was nothing. “And music always helps me.”

You stared at them, touched. “Dae...”

“I also made you a playlist,” he added, almost sheepish. “You might hate it. It’s a mix of stuff I like... there's one in there that made me think of you, actually.”

You laughed softly. “You’re too nice to me.”

“I’m not. You deserve nice.”

You hadn't told him about the case. Not yet.

Not about the file you’d been shown. How your safety was now a question mark, how the little life you’d been building was beginning to feel like a tower of cards in the wind.

But in this moment - with his leg resting against yours under the table, the rhythmic bounce of his foot keeping your spiralling thoughts tethered - was peace.

Fragile peace you didn't dare taint.

“So,” he said, stirring his drink, “I’m going to Japan for a few days.”

Your heart dipped, just a little. “Oh.”

“You should come,” he said quickly. “With me.”

You paused. “What?”

“Yeah. You’ve been working nonstop. You need a break. We can eat everything, shop, walk around all day. I’ll take care of the planning.”

“I don't know if I can get the time off yet,” you said, hesitating. “And... would it be a group thing?”

You were familiar with them. You'd been on your fare share over the years, with the boys always travelling for shows. And you presumed this was no exception.

Daesung winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Kind of. But Jiyong’s not coming if that's what you're worried about,” he added quickly. “He’s staying here. Said he has to sort some stuff out.”

That gave you pause.

It shouldn’t have mattered, and yet it did.

You looked down at your lap, contemplating before you felt a small smile tug at your lips. It would be nice to have a break. With him. “I’ll ask my manager.”

He grinned in relief. “That’s all I ask.”

You checked the time and sighed. “My break ended ten minutes ago.”

“Well don’t work too hard,” Daesung said, standing up and leaning over you, delicately dropping his lips to your head. "I'll speak to you later, yeah?"

You smiled up at him, watching as his figure slowly walk off. He waited at the end of the street, waving to you, then soon disappearing around the corner.

You stayed put, letting the street noise fill in the silence.

For a moment, it was just the sound of car engines, the murmur of conversation, a child crying somewhere in the distance.

You stared out at the busy street.

Someone was standing across the road, looking down at their phone.

You couldn’t make out their face. They could’ve been anyone. They could’ve been no one.

And yet.

The chill in your spine returned.

The peace was gone again

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You were drying mugs when your colleague came up behind you, voice low but annoyed on your behalf.

“I still can’t believe she said no,” she muttered. “If she knew who BigBang were, she’d realise what a crime she’s committing.”

You laughed a little under your breath.

It helped - her dramatic outrage.

She’d fawned over Daesung every single time he’d dropped by the café to visit.

Of course, she didn’t know the truth.

She thought he was just a flirty friend you were blessed enough to stumble across. You hadn’t told her you had dated one of Daesung’s bandmates - one of the biggest names in K-pop.

And you never would.

It had been private. Carefully curated. With only your old media name tied to him.

Jiyong had of course posted photos of you together over the years - just glimpses, but it wasn't enough to draw connections. Besides, he was frequently linked to someone new, a model or some actress. It was easy to conceal your identity.

You’d always asked him to keep you out of the spotlight, and now you were grateful.

Your colleague moved away to serve someone whilst you stayed beside her, focusing on the porcelain in your hands.

Until the customer didn’t leave.

She hovered at the counter, staring.

You glanced up, uncomfortable. She was young. Pretty. Dressed like she’d stepped off a fashion blog.

And her eyes were locked on you.

“…Can I help you?” you asked cautiously.

Her voice was sharp. “You’re her, aren’t you?”

You blinked. “Who?”

“You’re the one who leaked the footage of GDragon. You’re that shitty ex.”

The words hit like a slap. You froze. Your colleague did a double take, glancing between you and the girl.

“What the hell?” she said, trying to intervene. “She’s Daesung’s girlfriend actually - ”

Even though you weren't.

The girl didn’t care. She was seething now, hand tightening around her plastic cup.

“I'd recognise you anywhere. I've seen that tattoo before."

Oh god. So she was an obsessed fan, one of the many trying to witch hunt you.

"You tried to ruin him,” she spat. “You fucking snake.”

You barely had time to move.

The iced coffee hit your chest, shattering against your apron, soaking through your shirt. You gasped at the cold. Ice cubes skittered across the floor. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

But you did respond.

Physically.

Your hand grabbed the nearest thing - a fistful of sugar sachets - and launched them at her face. Hard.

She yelped, stumbling back.

Your manager shot up from her seat near the window, abandoning her laptop. “Out. Now.”

You turned and walked to the back room, heart thundering, coffee dripping down your front. You didn’t cry. Not yet. You just wiped your face and tried to breathe.

The door opened.

Your manager stood there, arms crossed, lips pressed tight. "Now I know the customer started it. But - "

“I get it,” you said flatly. “I’m fired.”

She didn’t argue.

You ripped off your apron, tossed it aside, and left without another word.

Outside, you shoved in your AirPods. Music roared in your ears.

You were halfway down the block when you collided with someone. You stumbled back, muttering a distracted “sorry.”

They kept walking.

You didn’t even look up.

Back at your apartment, you slammed the door shut, threw your keys blindly toward the counter - and knocked over the vase of tulips you had bought days ago. Water spilled across the table and ran off the edge. The flowers drooped against the marble.

You didn’t bother to fix them.

You just moved to stare out the window.

The street below was empty.

But your mind continued to tell you that something was there, even if you couldn't seem anything.

Coffee was soaking into the rug beneath your shoes, and you didn’t even care.

Your fingers found your phone.

And you called him.

“Is your offer still available?” you asked, voice hollow.

Daesung sounded surprised. “Wait - I thought you didn’t get the time off?”

“My manager changed her mind.”

There was a pause. “Well,” he said brightly, trying to lift the mood, “good thing I didn’t cancel anything yet. You’re gonna love Japan - the neon lights, the markets, the food - ”

You barely listened.

You stood there, phone to your ear, as his voice babbled on.

And continued to stare down at the desolate street below. It felt like you were waiting for a shadow to appear. The same one that was casting a dark spell over your sanity.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The airport was brimming with life - even at the ungodly hour. Families reuniting, wheels clacking against the polished floor, announcements echoing overhead.

You and Daesung were moving through it all, heads down, casual but efficient.

He was practically glowing beside you, clutching your luggage with one hand and swinging his other arm as he walked. There was a bounce in his step.

“I booked a spa place for us - one with warm stone rooms,” Daesung beamed. “And there’s this tiny local spot that does handmade soba. I thought we could go there tomorrow night.”

You nodded, warmed by his thoughtfulness, until you both slowed at the sight of the chaos ahead. A wall of fans and cameras gathered by one of the VIP exits.

Security blocked the crowd, holding firm lines.

You nudged Daesung with your elbow. “I almost forgot about this part.”

He craned his neck. “Well... at least we're prepared.”

A sigh escaped you as you pulled your hood up and tugged your face mask into place. Daesung did the same, and together, you slipped around the edge of the chaos and into the quieter corridor leading to the VIP lounge.

But then you heard it. The shift in crowd noise. The camera shutters picking up speed.

You turned your head over your shoulder.

A trolley stacked with Rimowa suitcases was heading straight towards you.

And they were still covered in those ridiculous stickers. The ones you’d plastered all over them. Memories from each city you had visited together.

Jiyong was here.

He was striding forward with his security parting the crowd. A pair of black-framed glasses perched on his nose, cap low, but unmistakably him.

You grabbed Daesung’s arm, voice low. ��I thought you said he wasn’t coming.”

Daesung blinked at you, surprised. “He said he wasn’t.”

You didn’t have time to process it. Jiyong spotted you through the glass of the lounge and made a beeline for the door.

He entered with a sigh, tugging his hat off, raking his fingers through his hair like he’d been running the whole way.

“You’re early,” he said with a soft smile, stopping a few feet away. “I thought you’d be.”

You glared at him, eyes narrowed to bitter resentment.

Daesung broke the silence, trying to keep things light. “What happened to taking care of things in Seoul?”

Jiyong didn’t take his eyes off you. “My responsibilities are here now.”

You rolled your eyes and Daesung felt it. He gave a half-laugh, feeling awkward. “Right. I’m, uh, gonna grab some food.” He glanced at you. “Coming?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, stepping to follow.

“What are we eating?” Jiyong asked, stepping after you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You turned sharply, hand up. “No.” The word was firm. A single finger raised in warning. “No.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but you didn’t give him the chance. You pulled your carry-on from Daesung and shoved it into Jiyong’s chest, causing him to stumble slightly as he caught it.

“I need you to stay here and look after this for me.”

He blinked, expression flickering. “I want to come with you.”

“No,” you said again, turning on your heel. “You’ll be fine. Stay.”

You walked away with Daesung, not looking back. You almost felt bad speaking to him that way, until you remembered why you were mad at him.

Daesung kept pace beside you, frowning.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. "I swear, he said - "

You shook your head before he could say anymore. “It’s fine."

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “I can’t avoid him forever. And maybe it’s good for him to see me. Like this. Moving on.”

Daesung hesitated. But he didn’t argue.

He simply placed a steady hand on your back and guided you toward one of the food stalls.

Far behind you now, Jiyong stood in the lounge, your carry-on in hand, staring after you with something unreadable in his eyes.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You had thought things would be awkward at first, since Hyo Rin and Youngbae sided with Jiyong during the fallout.

But they surprised you.

They apologised, and it was sincere.

They even shared their snacks with you on the flight like nothing had happened. And Seunghyun wasn't in attendance - he was off preparing for enlistment.

It was surprisingly easy to slip back into the rhythm of the group.

And when the private car finally pulled up to the hotel, you all went your separate ways.

Same floor, different rooms.

Your room was cozy, exactly what you needed after the long flight. You started unpacking, trying to shake off the tension still clinging to you, but when you went to grab your AirPods, you noticed one was missing.

You sighed.

You had a bad habit of losing things, but this one?

This one was especially annoying.

You plopped down on the bed and glanced around the room, half-expecting the missing AirPod to magically appear before you.

It didn’t.

Your mind drifted, as it often did, back to a memory with Jiyong.

It was your first anniversary, and you were standing in front of the mirror, fidgeting with the diamond earrings Jiyong had gotten you.

He was standing behind you, his arms casually slung around your waist, watching you with that soft, affectionate smile that only he could pull off.

“You almost ready?” he asked, his voice low and warm.

You nodded, glancing at the clock. “Just about. I’ll be done in a second.”

He didn’t respond, just stood there, swaying slightly, his hands brushing over your dress - not to help, but to distract. He tugged at the little zipper.

“Jiyong,” you laughed, “come on, I’m trying to get ready here. You know I like to be early.”

"You look so beautiful.”

His hands traced the line of your dress, pushing the strap off your shoulder just enough so he could kiss the exposed skin.

“You’re making this hard,” you muttered, but it was difficult to stay serious when he was being like this.

His lips brushed your neck, then your earlobe, before he playfully bit down. "You're making me hard,"

“Oh my god,” You breathed out, a laugh escaping as he pulled you backwards, towards the bed.

You never made it to the dinner.

But that hadn't been what the evening was supposed to be about anyway.

It was about you and him.

A day remembering the beginning of your relationship, which had bloomed from something so unexpected.

And as long as you were with him, you didn't care how you celebrated it.

Although, breathlessly tangled in bedsheets with Jiyong was a rather faultless way of honouring your love.

Your eyes felt heavy as you lay there, lying against his bare chest and staring at the TV on the wall - playing a show neither of you were really watching.

Meanwhile, Jiyong was tugging at your earlobe absentmindedly, his hair slightly damp and askew after you had spent hours tugging on it.

“You know, I think you lost one of your earrings,” he said, his voice thick with amusement.

You tensed, your hand flying up to check your ear. “What?” You felt around the bed, panic rising as you realised it was true. “No, no, I can’t find it!”

“Don’t worry,” he teased, his voice low, amused. “It’s probably just fallen somewhere. I can't believe you’ve lost it already, Jagi.”

You scrambled to search the floor, uncaring for your naked state, desperately looking for the missing earring. “What do you mean I’ve lost it?!”

He chuckled, stretching across the bed as you yanked the covers from his bare body, tossing them across the room to double-check the mattress. Jiyong lay there, smiling, thumb pulling at his lip as he watched you.

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he said, sounding too relaxed about it. “Maybe a few more, so I can keep biting your ears and make sure you keep losing them.”

You glared at him, even though it had no malice behind it. “You're right. This is your fault.”

He laughed, his hand reaching out to tug you closer until you were standing against the edge of the bed.

He stared up at you, eyes warm and full of admiration. “I won’t stop,” he promised, his hands brushing against the curve of your backside. “When it comes to you, I have no control.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, even as you rolled your eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, though you loved him for it.

And when he went to bite the curve of your thigh, you shrieked with laughter, the sound filling the room, the moment a perfect bubble of happiness.

He tugged you hard, your body collapsing onto his - onto the bed, the world outside slipping away.

The knock at your hotel door pulled you sharply back to the present. Your heart raced as you stared at the door for a moment, your hand still clutching the missing AirPod.

The memory of Jiyong, of how things used to be, clung to you like a scent that couldn't be washed away.

You let out a shaky breath and wiped your hands on your pants. The knock came again, louder this time.

With one last glance at the missing AirPod, you forced yourself to stand. You walked toward the door and reached for the handle.

Daesung was standing there, grinning with that familiar warmth.

“You ready for an adventure?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.

Before you could even respond, he grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the room and into the elevator.

Next thing you knew, you were being whisked away to the Mario Kart go-kart experience in the streets of Tokyo.

It was absolutely ridiculous, and that was what made it so perfect.

You both suited up in bright, oversized outfits, giggling at each other from your respective go-karts, racing through the bustling streets of the city.

The rush of speed, the adrenaline coursing through you as you zipped past buildings and tourists, was invigorating.

You found yourself laughing uncontrollably as Daesung swerved a pothole and nearly crashed into a traffic cone. He stayed just slightly behind you, letting you take the glory, and preventing the people from behind from overtaking you.

It was liberating. To forget.

You didn’t even think about the mess you’d left behind.

The whispers. The stalker. Your job. Jiyong.

But eventually, the karts came to a stop, and you were back in the quiet of the Tokyo streets, the air cool against your skin.

You both strolled around, taking in the sights together. He was leading you towards a restaurant, talking animatedly about the noodles you just had try.

You hadn't even noticed you were holding hands until he tugged you back from stepping onto the crossing as a cyclist whizzed past. You smiled at him in gratitude.

Your adrenaline was still pumping from the racing. Your head rushed. It was addicting.

And then, of course, Daesung had to ruin it by bringing up Jiyong.

“So… I’ve been meaning to ask,” Daesung began, his voice casual but tinged with something softer. “How are you really doing with everything? With him.”

You sighed, removing your linked hands to rake it through your hair.

Of course, it had to come up. It always did.

It felt like no matter where you went, or what you tried to do to move forward, the past kept following you like an inevitable shadow.

“I don’t know, Dae,” you admitted, “I just… I don’t want to keep thinking about it. I don’t want to keep going back to that. I just want to move forward, you know? We’re in Tokyo. I want to enjoy the trip. I want to enjoy this.”

Daesung didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at you, his expression serious. After a beat, he sighed.

“You can’t move forward until you make peace with the past, though,” he said quietly, his words hitting harder than you expected.

You stopped walking, the weight of his words sinking in.

“I’m not clueless, Y/n,” he continued, his tone a little more pointed. “I know why Jiyong’s here. He’s here because you’re here. And he’s probably wondering where you are right now. Why you’re with me.”

You felt your chest tighten. His words landed like a punch, but there was no anger in them, only truth.

You looked away, avoiding his gaze as the words he spoke lingered in the air.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you muttered, but your voice sounded small, even to you.

Daesung’s voice softened. “Sorry, I just feel...”

You nodded slowly, your fingers brushing the cool surface of a nearby shop window as you gathered your thoughts. You knew what he was going to say.

Guilty.

You hadn't felt that way at first. Maybe only a fleeting pinch. But leaving things unresolved with Jiyong meant your time with Daesung felt... borrowed.

Like you weren't allowed to progress until you had closed that chapter for good.

“I know,” you whispered. “I’ve been avoiding him. But I can't stomach the thought of a conversation with him. He really hurt me."

Your words didn't even begin to cover the damage Jiyong had inflicted. Even if it had been from misplaced anger and judgement.

Daesung nodded, his hand falling gently on your shoulder, a reassuring weight. “I understand. I'd never push you into something you're not ready for."

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and he smiled, a soft, understanding smile.

It almost felt like his words had another meaning to them - like you weren't just ready for a conversation with Jiyong, but ready to move on.

Sometimes you wondered that if you sealed things off from Jiyong, then maybe your path with Daesung would suddenly appear.

Right now, it felt blurred and unsure.

It also felt exciting and hopeful.

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his words.

“Fine I promise that I'll be better,” you said softly, “I'll... try to keep the peace. But - he has to respect my boundaries too. I'm tired of people pushing me to my limits."

"I'll speak to him." He assured you with a nod. Then Daesung smiled again, his face lighting up. “I want you to have a good time. And we’ll be here, together. No more worries.”

You both stood there for a moment, the city moving around you, the night air cool against your skin. You stared up at him and then reached on your tip-toes, holding his broad shoulders for support as you pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek.

Daesung squeezed your waist as your feet flattened again, then he took your hand - fingers interlocked, continuing your journey through the city together.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The spa was meant to be a reprieve. A calming pause before the boy's performance later that night.

You and Daesung were wrapped in white robes, wandering through the corridors of still water and soft music. It was almost easy to pretend everything was simple again.

Almost.

Your eyes burned into the ink scrawled across his back.

Jiyong walked a few paces ahead, shuffling towards the indoor pool.

He had invited himself along, and Daesung had only offered an apologetic shrug when you looked at him with thinly veiled irritation.

You hadn’t said anything. There was no point.

You paused your steps, letting Jiyong go his own way. You just needed to keep your distance, stay in control.

But control slipped a little the moment Daesung loosened the tie on his robe.

He shrugged it off with the ease of someone used to being shirtless around others, and your gaze, unprepared, was caught.

The cut of his muscles. The curve of his biceps. The way his shorts hung low on his hips.

His body was all hard lines and effortless strength, and you knew he worked out, but you hadn’t seen it like this. Not so close. Not so bare.

You blinked and turned your head quickly, heart fluttering in your chest. The thought of sitting beside him in the sauna - watching sweat trace down the thick column of his neck, pooling in the crevice of his chest - was suddenly too much.

“I think I’ll go for the steam room,” you said lightly, masking the heat rising in your cheeks.

He looked over at you and smiled, towel in hand. “Alright. Let’s do that instead.”

The steam curled thick around you both as you stepped into the room. It was quiet, private, the hiss of heat enveloping your skin in seconds.

You sat side by side on the tiled bench, your knees almost brushing.

The air was hot and wet, making the silence between words stretch longer than it should have - but Daesung, ever gentle, filled it with low laughter and small stories. Something about the last time they were in Japan. A fan encounter. A near-disastrous ramen challenge.

You laughed softly, grateful for the lightness.

But after a while, he leaned back against the wall, blinking slowly.

"I might have to step out for a bit,” he murmured. “I'm getting a little lightheaded in here.”

You shifted upright. “I’ll come with - ”

“No, no. Stay,” he said quickly, hand brushing yours to stop you. “Enjoy yourself. I’ll come back for you.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

The door hissed shut behind him, leaving you alone in the thick fog. You exhaled and let your head fall back, trying to melt into the heat.

That’s when the door opened again.

You didn’t look. “That was quick - ”

“Y/n.”

You sat up fast.

Jiyong stood there, steam already beginning to curl around his body, his dark hair damp from the humidity. He wore nothing but tight black trunks, clinging to his thighs.

You stiffend, instantly on guard.

“No,” you snapped. “Get out.”

He stepped in anyway, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

“No,” he said evenly. “I’m going to stay here and talk to you. Even if I have to beg.”

You stared at him, unmoving.

He took a step forward. “Is that what you want? For me to beg?”

You stayed silent.

Tension hung between you, thick as the steam in the air. Old feelings clawing their way back to the surface. You hated how he could still pull them from you so easily.

He looked at you for a beat, eyes unwavering. “Well?” he prompted. “Do you?”

You crossed your arms, leaning back against the wall. “Go on then. Beg.”

You didn’t expect him to actually do it.

But then - he dropped. Right onto the steaming tile floor, knees hitting hard, ignoring the sharp heat searing against his skin. His hands came together in front of him, eyes locked on yours.

“Please,” he said, words low and sincere. “Please forgive me. I’m so sorry. I was stupid. I hurt you. I’ve spent every day since trying to be better. Trying to prove it. And I’ll keep doing it, Y/n. I’ll keep proving it. Just… please.”

The steam blurred the edges of him, but the emotion in his voice cut through like glass.

“One more chance,” he said, voice thick now. Raw.

He didn’t look away. And despite everything, it was hard to keep your heart guarded when he looked at you like that.

You exhaled slowly, heart tight in your chest.

“I'm tired, Jiyong,” you said finally. “I don’t want to fight anymore. It’s not fair to the others. I want this trip to be good. For all of us.”

His head dropped for a moment, as if something in him had finally unclenched.

You let out a breath. “You can get up now. Before someone thinks we’re doing something else in here.”

That familiar smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he slowly rose. “Wouldn’t be the first time we did, huh?”

You rolled your eyes.

He sat beside you, trunks sitting low on his waist, traces of his thigh tattoos peaking out. You stared ahead, trying not to glance at him, at the water glistening on his chest, the way his hair curled slightly with the heat.

The air was thick now, not just with steam but something unspoken.

History. Hunger. Longing.

Even just his presence beside you made your skin feel too tight. He wasn’t touching you, but you could feel him, the weight of what you used to be, of what you almost still were.

“Are you coming to the show later?” he asked, voice softer now.

You nodded, eyes still fixed ahead.

He smiled, small and genuine. “Good.”

And in that small pocket of heat and silence, the ache between you stirred again - unresolved, undeniable.

But for now, you leaned back, closed your eyes, and tried to let the steam carry it all away.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You and Hyorin had screamed yourselves hoarse from the barricade, limbs tangled in the wild energy of the fans.

It was impossible not to get swept up in it. Even if you hadn’t planned to cheer. Even if you told yourself you’d stay cool. Composed.

That hadn't been possible when Youngbae had stripped his shirt off and thrown it at the crowd - Hyorin fighting with a screaming girl to claim it. Or when Daesung poured his bottled water over his body, flicking the rest in your direction with a wink.

And especially not when Jiyong had collapsed to his knees in the middle of his performance of 'If You'. His eyes never leaving yours.

Unrelenting. Pleading.

Now, long after the final encore, the energy hadn’t quite faded.

You were all crammed into a hole-in-the-wall takeout spot, the kind of place that smelled like grease and burning. Noodles and soju littered the table, laughter spilling from every corner.

Youngbae had long since surrendered holding his head up, resting it flat on the tabletop, dead to the world.

Hyorin giggled uncontrollably as she slowly, dramatically piled noodles on top of his bleached hair, strand by strand.

“You’re going to give him a noodle crown,” you wheezed, covering your mouth with your hand.

She shushed you with mock seriousness. “Don’t wake him up!”

Even Jiyong had his head tipped back in laughter, cheeks pink from soju and residual adrenaline.

It felt like before. Before the fights. Before the silence. Before everything cracked.

Eventually, the energy began to fade, and someone mumbled something about sleep. Everyone agreed in a chorus of groans.

You stood, wincing immediately as the ache in your feet made itself known.

“God, I shouldn't have worn these shoes,” you muttered.

“Come on,” Daesung said, crouching down before you. “Hop on.”

“What? No, you just danced for like three hours, you must be - ”

He turned his head and gave you a look. “I said, hop on.”

You hesitated, then gave in with a laugh, throwing your arms around his shoulders and jumping onto his back. He hoisted you easily, gripping your thighs with a tight squeeze.

“Dae!” you squealed when he immediately took off into a sprint, making your stomach lurch with each bounce.

“You said your feet hurt!” he called back, breathless and grinning.

Behind you, you could hear Hyorin’s laughter, and Jiyong’s complaining as they were left to drag Youngbae’s half-sleeping form toward the hotel.

By the time you got back to the room, your whole body ached with exhaustion. You fell onto the bed face first with a groan.

“Dead,” you mumbled into the pillow.

Daesung leaned down, gently slipping your shoes off. “Still very beautiful though,”

“Mm,” you grunted, eyes fluttering closed as you rolled onto your side.

He tucked the blanket around you carefully, and you felt the dip of the mattress as he leaned in. Your breath caught. For a second, you thought - maybe -

But his lips just brushed the corner of your mouth. A near-kiss. Warm and fleeting.

“Goodnight,” he whispered.

And then he was gone.

You were drifting when your phone vibrated on the nightstand. You groaned and reached for it blindly.

“What,” you muttered, not even checking the screen.

“Hi.”

You frowned. That voice. Low and hesitant.

Jiyong.

“What do you want now?” you asked, more tired than annoyed.

“Did you get back okay?” His voice was quiet. Softer than usual.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “Daesung walked me to my room.”

You didn’t tell him about the blanket. Or the almost kiss.

“Good,” Jiyong said. “I feel better knowing you’re safe.”

You said nothing, eyes closing again.

“You two have gotten close.”

“Mhm.”

There was a pause. “I’m glad Daesung was there when I wasn’t. He’s a good friend. For looking after you… for me.”

You didn’t respond.

He sighed, but continued despite your silence. “I’m glad I can talk to you again,” he said. “We used to call after my shows, remember? When you couldn’t come, I’d call you the second I got offstage. Couldn’t sleep without hearing your voice.”

You nodded, but your mind was too foggy with sleep to respond.

“I haven’t really slept since we ended,” he added. “Not properly.”

You breathed out, slow and heavy. Already gone from the moment.

“I love you.”

But you didn’t hear him.

The phone slipped from your hand as you fell into sleep, the line still open.

When your alarm blared early the next morning, you jolted upright, groggy and sore. You reached for your phone to silence it - and that’s when you saw it.

The call was still ongoing.

You hesitantly brought the phone to your ear and waited. You could hear soft breathing. The gentle rhythm of Jiyong’s sleep, steady and low.

He hadn’t hung up.

You stared at the call log.

He’d stayed on the phone all night.

Your finger hovered above the red button. Just for a second.

Then you sighed and ended the call.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Even though the trip had ended on a high, normality was calling you to return.

But that didn't mean Japan hadn't left its mark.

You'd have to find a new job once you returned. And the break from Seoul had sown a seed of hope.

Maybe you could return to your passion of producing again. Maybe it was time to move forward, instead of letting the world moving around you.

You stepped into your apartment, the door clicking shut softly behind you. The familiar scent of your linen spray still lingered faintly in the air, a gentle, deceptive kind of welcome.

Home.

But something felt off.

And then you saw them.

The tulips.

They sat back in their vase on the counter. The very same vase you’d left knocked over. The flowers had begun to wilt, petals sagging from their stems. You had left them lying on the marble.

You knew you had.

The bag in your hands fell to the floor, your grip weak.

A wave of dread slammed into you. It was too much. After everything - your job, your breakup, the long, slow crawl of putting yourself back together - this, this, was the thing that made the cracks split open.

You cried.

Loud, ugly sobs that ripped through your chest.

Someone had been here.

Someone had invaded your only safe space.

The police came quickly. Professional, composed, too calm for the way your voice shook as you explained everything.

They swept the apartment, asked questions, took photos.

They didn’t find anyone.

But they did find what you feared most.

Your bedroom window - shattered from the outside.

Glass on the floor.

And clear signs that someone had entered.

One of the officers pulled his notebook out and gave you a grave look. “It’s clear someone broke in through the window. We’re escalating the case from a report of harassment to a formal investigation for unlawful entry. You did the right thing calling it in.”

You were shaking.

Your fingers trembled, clenched around the sleeves of your hoodie like you were trying to ground yourself. Willing your body to stay standing. And you wouldn't have been able to -

Had it not been for Jiyong’s arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders. Pressing you against his familiar embrace.

The officer glanced between the two of you. “Do you have somewhere safe you can stay?”

Jiyong didn’t hesitate. “With me.” he held you closer. "She's coming home with me."

You didn’t fight him. You couldn’t. You leaned into him, letting the warmth of his body soak into your bones.

Home wasn’t a place anymore.

But maybe it could be a person.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

dae: i'll speak to him about boundaries

cut to jiyong the next day on his knees, in a steam room, begging you for attention

this damn drama queen

a/n: my big bang girls gave me keywords for this fic: sauna, begging, pathetic man, and dog collar - i hope i lived up to most of them

sorry if this wasn't my best work - i'm still grinding at uni butttt only 2 assignments left 🥳🥳🥳🥳 yipeeee

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @breakmeoff , @emmiesoverthemoon , @rafesbunniebby , @ricecake9999 , @fleabagspurplewife , @sylviavf , @ldydeath , @wonyluvi , @deliciousmagazinequeen , @heartubeatusalon , @imminsugasgf , @steponupbabe

[ronearoundblindly]

Cozy

platonic Bucky Barnes x Alpine!Reader Steve Rogers x shapeshifter!Reader

part of Companion Animal (see previous or series)

Summary: After months of 'knowing' Alpine, Steve and Bucky get to see, hear, and touch you, the real you, for the first time.

Warnings for subtlety and incomplete discussions. They're breezing over some of the deeper stuff since everyone is carefully trying to get to know each other. Forgive them their awkwardness...and my lack of editing. I stuck very close to my standard of "IT'S JUST CUTE, FLUFFY PUNS" which is likely a warning at this point. WC 1.3k

“You cold? Hungry? Thirsty?”

His forgiving, light hold anchors you in place like lead. Steve’s warmth is radiant, heavy without mass or malice. Somehow the weight of expectant words has you tongue-tied as he sits up at the ready.

He’s whispering a long list of possibilities. “I could get you some water. Or coffee? Or do you prefer tea? Have you eaten anything since yesterday?” He reaches for the untouched pile of clothes on the table, reminding you to tuck the blanket tighter around your chest. “I should have brought you clothes,” he mutters absently.

“And how would you—“ Bucky grunts and stretches his neck without opening his eyes yet “—pick out clothes for her?”

“I got a good enough look,” Steve says simply and instantly. “It’s…a skill from my stage days.” He shifts out from under your legs, blushing. “Dancers talk about their sizes all the time, so…let me get you that water, babygi—oh god, I’ve—I forgot your—”

Bucky snorts. “Know her bust and hip measurements but not her name, eh, punk? Oh yeah, you’ve got your priorities straight.”

“I’m just trying to be nice!”

“I need coffee,” Bucky groans, standing. “Guess I’m still the only one using their thumbs in this house.”

You playfully slap his leg, and Bucky jumps in faux hurt.

“Yikes, that’s worse than your angry-tail…Everyone want food? Great.”

“I can do it,” Steve rushes to help.

Perhaps because you’ve never spoken a word in this apartment, perhaps because they’ve never expected to hear you speak, perhaps because…they really, really want to make you some sort of drink in a human container, the men leave for the kitchen and continue to argue.

You look around at the bizarre and tiny difference in the room from your new perspective. The couch is large and deep but doesn’t swallow you whole anymore. The coffee table is not at a height you need to prepare for scaling. The plants are—still in need of water. Why can’t Bucky keep these things alive without you?!

Your fingers feel cramped, still clutching the blanket, so you scoop up the pile of clothing, wrap the throw around your back and skitter off to the bathroom, horrified to find there are bits of leaf stuck in your hair from last night. Once you see them, the grit smeared on your skin makes itself known, and you can’t imagine pulling borrowed clothing overtop this mess.

Fast as you can, you’re in the shower, scrubbing, willing yourself to finish using Bucky’s water and his shampoo and his soap, nervous about using resources you hadn’t before and never asked about and wouldn’t have needed one-tenth this amount of just yesterday.

You hum to soothe yourself. It’s why you purred even when Bucky wasn’t home. It never mattered before that you did. Then the humming becomes gentle singings. You thought you were still so quiet.

In total, no reasonable food could be completely cooked in the same stretch you were in the bathroom, but you exit to find both men staring from the other end of the hall.

Steve wears an expression of great admiration.

“You have a lovely voice,” he says with a smile.

Bucky frown, looking down at the sweats he gave you. “We should have let you go shopping, Stage Boy.”

“They’re great. It’s no big deal. I’m sorry to be a bother.”

Both of them step closer immediately at the first proper words they’ve ever heard from you.

“You’re not a bother, doll,” Bucky insists while Steve blurts, “you look great.”

Bucky flashes his pal ferocious side-eye, something you like to think you taught him over the last few months.

“Cozy,” Steve corrects. “You look cozy. It’s great that you’re cozy.”

All you can manage is a shrug and crossing your arms over your chest, maneuvering around the baggy shirt.

“Breakfast?”

The sizzling of something in a pan wafts to your less-sensitive ears, and the impulse to raise your head and sniff takes you by surprise. You’ll be doing that for days, at least, moving like a cat, and you wonder how stupid it must look to them.

You nod instead of reply and stalk toward the kitchen.

Bucky, however, does nod.

“Good girl,” he mutters, taking a sip of his coffee and stopping mid-swallow. The gulp is deafening. “Sorry…”

Nobody responds. All three of you exchange glances, but they aren’t familiar with your body language as you so Steve and Bucky just end up staring.

“You know what,” Bucky breaks the silence, “I’m gonna get my part of the debrief out of the way.” He chugs the rest of his mug. “You wanna check that, Steve—“ Bucky ticks his head to the growing aggression of the popping pan “—while I say ‘bye?’”

Steve, though clearly annoyed at the dismissal, steps away.

“You okay if he’s here? Would you rather be alone for a bit?” Bucky watches the last drops of coffee wriggle around.

“No, I…”

It’s weird to want so much from them and yet be so afraid of saying so. Yesterday, you could walk all over them, literally, and now treading on eggshells in the same room seems risky.

“How did you know my name?” you finally whisper.

“Well,” Bucky sighs, “I did think Alpine was a cat—your family cat—which you might come ‘round to find eventually. I kept the photo your father handed out, just in case, but…” and this part he goes very, very quiet for “…I’ve made people go missing. I know what it does to families. I want you to be happy here—or wherever,—it’s just—“

He looks over his shoulder at Steve.

You say it for him. “I can’t be cozy forever if I’m always running away.”

Bucky bites his lip. “Damn. Nat was right. You’re one smart lady.”

“With great hair,” you add on instinct.

His laugh is loud and unguarded.

Bucky plunks his mug down, grabs his keys, and turns to you at his dying chuckle.

“May I?” His arms open for a hug, and you press yourself in like you used to fall with your whole feline weight. Bucky nuzzles into your hair like he used to, too, giving your temple a kiss.

It feels normal though you’ve never felt it this way before.

“Don’t tease him too much,” Bucky warns, releasing you to stand straight. “He’s not usually this…No, he is always like this. Heart on his sleeve. He just wasn’t expecting, ya know, you.”

After a quick peek at this morning’s chef, you hold up your hands.

“No claws, I promise.”

Bucky reiterates that he’ll be back in a few hours. Steve yells a goodbye to his friend and makes his own promise to ‘take care of everything here.’

You creep up beside his spot at the stove.

Steve’s smiling. “And yes, I know that includes the poor plants.”

He watches as you struggle to say a deeply important thing, one you’ve meant to mention since last night even in the throws of shock and arguments. It’s stupid. It seems so stupid, but you have to tell him.

He’s so patient, carefully removing the pan from the heat and waiting.

“I…I don’t mind—I mean, I…like when you call me ‘babygirl.’”

You don’t get the boyish grin you expect. Steve’s smile turns subtle, a small gesture that swells into his body and makes his eyes light up.

His hand finds yours, his thumb petting your smooth skin.

“Okay, it’s time for breakfast, Babygirl, then I’ll water the plants.”

[Next Part???]

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers Series List; Bucky Barnes Masterlist]

A/N: This is...all I had strictly planned for this series, so I'm open to more though I've no clue what it would be... Still, I hope you enjoyed!

@hisredheadedgoddess28 @irishhappiness @fallenxjas @ilovetaquitosmmmm @venunsgirl @fries11 @lovinglimerence

@bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @stellar-solar-flare @deandreamernp

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thiquefunlover63 @bitchy-bi-trash

@supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries @veryprairieberry

[becausebuckley]

the longer speculation is, the better🙏💕✍️

alright, since you all asked so nicely <3 i’m posting this with the warning that i don’t do screenwriting, so who knows how pacing works in episodic format, and i definitely don’t have any sort of medical knowledge or fire knowledge or whatever lol. what i do have is sleep deprivation and a fever! it’s been A Day.

9x01

So, the season opener, 9x01. We start out not with one of our favourite characters, but someone mysterious. This person wakes up in the morning and goes through her morning routine while something upbeat plays in the background. We see her getting dressed, heading to work etc, but we never see who, exactly, she is. She makes breakfast, but doesn’t eat it. Her workplace looks like a lab of some sort. She greets the security guard, then a colleague, who warns her that the microwave keeps sparking and she shouldn’t use it. The mystery scientist says something about the fire suppression system going down two weeks ago only being the starting point and they bemoan budget cuts together. Her voice sounds vaguely familiar, but we still don't know who we're following. As she enters her own lab, we see her two assistants squabbling over a lunch-related issue. They jump apart once they see our mystery scientist walk in. One of them says that they're all ready and that today is the big day. The mystery scientist agrees, says she’s been too nervous to eat, and examines a vial of some sort of medicine that's waiting for her. As she leans away, her face becomes visible on a reflective surface.

Moira stares right into the camera, smiling.

Cut to the 911 intro.

We pick up again at the Diaz (and Buckley) residence. Buck wakes up on the couch, groaning as he pops his back. He shuffles to the kitchen and begins making breakfast. It's clear that he's been living here for a while, fully settled in. The furniture is a mix of his and Eddie's stuff. Christopher and Eddie come in and the three of them have breakfast together. They have a short conversation that establishes the following: Buck is looking for a new place, but hasn't found anything fitting in part due to Eddie's criticism of them, he's been crashing on the Diaz couch even though Eddie keeps telling him to take the bed for a night (it's unclear if he means they should swap sleeping places or if they should share the bed), and Christopher thinks that Buck should stay and make him breakfast every morning. Buck says something about breakfast dishes being where his and Bobby's cooking lessons started (as a fun little callback, he's made the same dish that he made Maddie way back in season 2 - i think it was an omelette?). Cue melancholy expressions. Someone checks the time. They rush off to school/work. Buck and Eddie nearly trip over each other when they grab their work stuff: Buck says he promises he'll be out of their hair soon, and Eddie says there's no rush. He longingly looks after Buck as Buck and Christopher walk towards the car.

Cut to Maddie and Chimney's place. Chimney is balancing getting ready and taking care of the baby. Maddie is doing Jee-Yun's hair while Jee eats breakfast. They're all a bit in a frenzy and the house looks chaotic. They discuss that Maddie's maternity leave is ending soon and how it's more difficult to manage two kids than they expected. Chimney mentions that, now that he's captain of the 118, he's spending more time at work than he was before, and that the paperwork is horrible. Maddie asks if he regrets taking the position. Chimney says he doesn't, that he's glad he's proven to himself and the team that he can do it, but that he wonders if he made the right choice.

Then a quick scene with the Wilsons, just enough for Hen and Karen to announce to the kids that they’re going on their first family vacation in a few weeks. They’ll be going to some sort of all-inclusive family resort and they’re all excited. (this isn’t so much related to this opening arc as it is something that I think would be fun in a future episode, something fun and light for this family after everything they’ve been through these past few seasons. I imagine the kids trying to optimise the all you can eat buffet spread while Hen and Karen deal with assorted mysteries a la FOMO, and then they’ll get a nice big thing later on in the season to kind of spread everything out nicely)

We have the team go on one quick call to establish the dynamics now that Chimney is captain. Something medical, probably, or just someone being stuck somewhere. In any case, it’ll be silly and end well. On the scene, Buck jumps out of the engine, groaning as he lands. Ravi reminds him that he’s happy to help Buck find a new place so he no longer has to sleep on the couch. Eddie cuts him off and tells him to focus on the job, clearly not wanting Buck to move. The call will show us that Chimney is a much better captain than he was last time around. Hen takes the lead on the medical stuff, helped mostly by Eddie and Ravi, with Buck a little more in the background. This would then set up a paramedic arc for either Ravi or Eddie, I’m not sure which of the two.

We cut back to our mystery lab and one of the two assistants we saw earlier. Let’s call the assistants Stevie and Barbara, to make things easier (not significant names, just based on the books I have next to me rn). They’re working, but Stevie and Barbara keep arguing, with Stevie not taking any of Barbara’s suggestions seriously. Moira gets fed up and sends them out of the lab. They go to the break room and continue to fight. Barbara storms out. Stevie heads for the fridge and, in an act of revenge, takes Barbara’s lunch. He eats a few bites, then puts it in the microwave. While the food heats up, Stevie suddenly feels unwell and races to the bathroom. The last thing we see is the microwave, sparking.

Athena is on shift, driving, and taking a hands-free call from May at the same time. May is on a post-graduation vacation with friends, but is worried about her mother, who still hasn’t sold the house. Athena admits that something holds her back every time, even though she can’t stand to live there and spends as much time out of the house as possible. She assures May that there’s no need to worry. May says she’ll be home soon and clearly doesn’t really believe her. Athena gets a call to assist at a fire several blocks from her to help keep the peace. She says goodbye to May and heads to the scene. This both reminds us of Athena’s grief and opens up possibilities for May to rejoin dispatch or something along those lines.

The 118 arrive at the scene before Athena does. Chimney takes the lead and asks the crowd gathered in front of the smoking building what’s going on. They explain that there’s a fire, it started in the communal kitchen, their suppression system doesn’t work, and the fire escape collapsed when they evacuated, so quite a few of them are banged up. When Chimney orders the team to go inside, he’s blocked by the security personnel, who tell him they’re under instructions not to let any First Responders in. One of them looks uncertain and tries to let them help, but she’s overruled by the others.

Athena pulls up. Chimney explains the situation to her. While they try to talk reason into the security guards – way more than a simple lab would require, as Hen and Ravi discuss – several fancy black cars show up. The FBI takes over the scene and tells Chimney that they can extinguish the fire, but only from outside the building. The firefighters try to fight them on this, pointing out that there might be survivors inside and the fire is deep within the building, but the FBI won’t budge. They notice the 118 on their helmets and request a different station to help them. Chimney passes this on to Josh. Cut to Josh, who also has an FBI agent standing next to him at Dispatch, who agrees to send others.

While Chimney instructs Hen to take the lead on triaging the crowd outside, Athena decides to investigate. She pretends to drive away, then sneaks around the building. She finds another entrance to the building. The smoke is thicker back here, and the guard at this door is passed out. She radios Buck to bring Eddie, a med kit, and tells him she needs to borrow his gear. Buck and Eddie tell Ravi to cover for them and slip away. Eddie takes care of the unconscious guard while Buck helps Athena put on his mask and breathing equipment. She tells them that the FBI only told the firefighters not to go inside, not her. Besides, nobody tells her what to do. Athena enters the building.

Hen and Ravi are dealing with Barbara, who has a pretty nasty leg wound and internal bleeding, but who seems more focused on cursing out her colleague, who she’s sure is responsible. She explains that Stevie has been on her case since she started at the lab a few months ago. He’d been there for years, but she was brought in for the start of a new project, and Stevie doesn’t like that she technically outranks him. He’s been misplacing her supplies and eating her food to bully her. This morning, she added a homemade, extra-fast, extra-strong laxative to her lunch, hoping to teach him a lesson, and when she left the break room, she saw him heading for the fridge. Hen asks if Stevie made it out and Barbara says she doesn’t know and doesn’t care. Ravi goes to look for Stevie.

Meanwhile, Chimney meets the 133, who are pulling up, and tells them what’s going on. Their captain looks equally confused, but agrees to set up his men on the outside and at least try to stop the fire from spreading further. Once they get to work, the FBI dismisses Chimney, and when Chimney tells them that they have no right to block firefighters from doing their job like this, he’s told it’s a matter of national security. Chimney wonders out loud what kind of lab this is.

Athena makes her way through the building. There are alarms blaring, the hallways are filled with smoke, but the fire isn’t spreading too rapidly. She hears someone calling from the bathroom and finds Stevie, who refuses to leave the bathroom as the laxatives have truly taken effect. He immediately tells Athena that Barbara must’ve made them and that fast-acting mixtures like this are her specialty. He also says that they’re working on a big experiment and that his boss must be in here still, because she’d never abandon him (he actually says him and not me, so he’s referring to a mystery new person). Athena tells him that she’ll get him help, but Buck and Eddie are already behind her, which doesn’t seem to surprise her at all. She leaves Stevie in their care and continues to look for his boss.

Meanwhile, Ravi finds Chimney and Hen, looking troubled. He tells Chimney that he can’t find Stevie, but that he’s been told there’s another person missing, and her name is Moira. This rings a bell for both of them, but they agree that it can’t be her, because Moira is supposed to be in prison. Barbara pipes up and tells them that Moira was going to be in prison, but never ended up going there because her experiment took a turn. As long as the experiment survives, so does Moira. She says it’s all confidential, but Chimney pushes her and commands her to tell him what the experiment is. She says it’s not a what, it’s a who, and passes out, very dramatically timed.

Athena, following Stevie’s directions, finds Moira’s lab, though she doesn’t know that that is what it is yet. She sees Moira in there, but with her back turned and therefore doesn’t recognise her. The door is sealed shut, so Athena follows the windows alongside the lab and tries to find another entrance or catch Moira’s attention. Moira is aware of the fire, of course, and of Athena’s banging on the windows, but the smoke hasn’t reached into the lab, so she keeps going. She says something to herself about needing more time as she prepares a shot. Athena turns around a corner and is faced with a different section of the lab through a window. There are curtains here, so she can’t see as much, but through a small sliver, she makes out a bed, and she sees an arm. Moira’s experiment is a person.

Moira enters this part of the lab. It causes the curtains to shift. Athena can see more and recognises her husband, lying on that bed. He’s unconscious and pale. The camera zooms in on him. We see his chest rise.

Cue end credits.

9x02

We open with a flashback. Starting back at the end of the Contagion arc, when Bobby’s body is carried out, except we follow the body this time. I don’t really know medical stuff, but essentially, it’s established that Bobby is in critical condition, but not dead, and so they’re monitoring him For Science. Over the next few months, Bobby remains in a coma while Moira, Barbara, and Stevie work on finding him a cure so they can wake him up. The flashback montage ends with the same scene that the last episode opened on, Moira entering the lab on the day of the microwave explosion, except this time, it’s from Stevie and Barbara’s perspective and we get a little more information on what they’re doing.

Intro tune.

Hen and Chimney are trying to save Barbara. Once again, I don’t do medical stuff, but let’s assume that they somehow make sure that she won’t die, but she is still unconscious and needs to get to a hospital as soon as possible. They’re reluctant to leave, though, so Chimney asks Josh for another ambulance, which Josh reluctantly agrees to send. Meanwhile, one of the FBI people approaches Ravi and asks where the rest of their team is, and Ravi very badly lies and tells the FBI person that they went to get coffee. This is clearly not believed, but the FBI agent can’t do much about it yet, and Ravi runs off to triage more people.

Athena is slamming on the window of the lab. Moira finally stops ignoring her and whirls around, yelling something about needing more time. Athena can barely hear her. As Moira moves to inject Bobby with something, Athena kind of loses it.

Buck and Eddie are still with Stevie and try to stabilise his condition while also getting more information out of him. He’s reacting really badly to Barbara’s food experiment and needs proper medical care soon. When they go to carry him out, they find a new guard, weapon and all, at the back entrance. It’s the same one who looked uncertain earlier. The guard doesn’t see them, but they’re basically trapped.

While Barbara is loaded into an ambulance, Chimney, Hen, and Ravi discuss what they think is going on here. When Ravi begins to suggest that it could be Bobby, Chimney cuts him off and tells him not to go there. Hen places a hand on his arm and says that they have to investigate anyway. Through the radio, they learn about Buck and Eddie’s situation. They decide to go to the back and try to distract the new guard.

Smoke finally begins to enter Moira’s lab. She’s doing medical stuff and monitoring Bobby. She says the results are promising and he should wake up soon, but she needs more time. Athena keeps threatening her, still banging on the window. She clearly doesn’t trust Moira.

Ravi walks up to the guard at the back entrance. He tries to engage her in conversation, but it doesn’t work. He eventually decides to fake faint. Somehow, this works, and Hen and Chimney manage to sneak inside.

The fire, meanwhile, is very much not under control. There are three different firehouses working on it now, but they’re still not allowed entry into the building. The three captains discuss their best course of action with Josh. They’re all worried about the structural integrity of the building.

Moira is starting to feel dizzy. It’s a combination of smoke inhalation, heat, and the fact that she hasn’t eaten in days. Athena manages to convince her to open the door. She rushes in, pushes past Moira, and towards Bobby. He’s still unconscious, but colour is returning to his cheeks, and the oxygen mask is keeping him safe from the smoke. Athena, crying, radioes Chimney on a private line and instructs him to come here.

Hen and Eddie stay with Stevie while Chimney and Buck head for Athena. They use some of the fire extinguishers they find in the building to clear a path – neither of them has a full set of gear at the moment. Buck probably took off his helmet, as he does. They still don’t know what they’re walking into exactly. They don’t dare hope that it is what they think it is. They comment that the building is looking unstable.

Athena holds Bobby’s hand. She feels him stir, but he doesn’t open his eyes or seem aware of anything yet. In the background, Moira is fully collapsed on the floor, barely conscious. Buck and Chimney walk in and see Bobby in the bed. Buck drops the fire extinguisher he’s holding. Athena spurs them into action. Chimney goes to take Bobby’s vitals while Buck checks over Moira.

While all of this is going on, Ravi is still distracting the guard. They’re currently flirting. Ravi is doing badly, but the guard seems into it. Ravi sees Hen and Eddie appear behind the guard’s back, Stevie between them. Ravi pretends to faint again. This time, the guard isn’t fooled, and her act drops as she raises her gun at Ravi.

Moira comes to and tells Buck that she was just trying to keep the experiment going so she could get her Nobel prize and stay out of prison. Buck tells her that that’s selfish and that they’ve all been grieving Bobby. Before Moira can reply to this, her attention is caught by the flames licking around the door to her lab. Buck extinguishes them, but they realise they’re well and truly caught. Chimney and Athena turn to face them, too.

Suddenly, a weak voice says something about having bad timing. The camera pans to Bobby, awake, smiling.

A crack appears in the wall behind him.

End credits.

9x03

The episode opens with Bobby, Athena, Chimney, Buck, and Moira in the lab. They decide they have to move. Moira can walk with a little help, but Bobby probably won’t be able to, and Chimney doesn’t really want to move him without understanding his condition more. Moira explains that she’s been keeping Bobby in a stable condition for months and that the injection she gave him earlier is basically a supercharged version of the cure Chimney received, so he’ll make a full recovery, but being in a coma for months is still going to be hard to bounce back from. He tries to sit up, but is too weak to do so. They’ll need help, but when they radio the rest of the 118, they don’t get an answer.

The guard still holds Ravi at gunpoint. Hen and Eddie have ducked back into the corridor, still unnoticed, Stevie slumped against the wall next to them. Eddie tries to convince Hen that he can take the guard down, but Hen tells him not to risk it, and that they can’t control if Ravi will get hurt or not. Before they can decide on anything, they hear Chimney’s request for help. Chimney tells them that their suspicions were right. Hen and Eddie exchange a look and tear up. Eddie jumps up and makes to run outside, but he smacks right into Ravi and the guard, coming around the corner.

Ravi explains that he told the guard about their theory and that Chimney’s message convinced her to lower her weapon and help them out. She hadn’t known anything about what happens at the lap, but she’s been wondering, and this crosses all sorts of limits for her. She reveals that this was supposed to be a temporary job before she applies to the police academy, so she has no company loyalty whatsoever. When Chimney calls for them again, Hen answers and says that they’re on their way. Chimney says they’ll need to grab some gear first, because the fire is closing in on them, and they can’t get out like this, but they also have to hurry, because this building won’t hold itself up for much longer.

Bobby tries to tell the others to go and leave him. Athena says she absolutely won’t be doing that and the others agree. Besides, Buck jokes, the fire is too close now anyway. They just have to wait for the rest of their team.

Accompanied by a guard, Hen, Eddie, and Ravi make their way over to the other firefighters relatively easily. Hen hands Stevie over to another paramedic while Ravi grabs a hose, aided by the guard, and Eddie approaches the captains of the other firehouses. He explains the situation, fully ignoring the FBI agents next to them (or tossing a zingy oneliner at them or something idk). They decide to break with their original orders and rescue the trapped firefighters as soon as possible.

Inside, the flames are getting closer. They’ve moved to a corner of the room, Bobby leaning heavily on the others, as the corner they were in looked so unstable. Things look pretty dicey, but then, the smoke and flames are replaced by a massive gush of water. Hen, Eddie, and Ravi appear through the doorway, carrying a stretcher. There’s no time for a reunion, so they help Bobby onto the stretcher and make their way out. They evacuate the building just before it crumbles. Tears and smiles all around.

The next day, Harry and a newly-returned May reunite with Bobby (and Athena) in the hospital. The hospital room is covered in cards and balloons and other gifts. It’s revealed that Bobby is there for monitoring for a while, but that he’ll be cleared to go home in a few days, though he has a long recovery ahead of him. Athena and Bobby are no longer planning on selling the house. Athena makes a throwaway comment about nobody being able to experiment on Bobby or anyone getting in trouble or whatever, just to tie up those loose ends. Bobby’s physical and mental recovery, as well as more fleshed-out conversations with everyone, will play out over the next few episodes, but for now, everything is okay.

Several days later, at the Grant-Nash house, the firefam is preparing for Bobby’s return home. Buck is in the kitchen, helping Harry finish cooking a dish. When Harry carries it out into the living room, Eddie comes into the kitchen. He tells Buck that they need to talk about something and confesses that he doesn’t want Buck to move out. Buck is shocked by this, but also really happy, and agrees to stay. They’re called into the living room. Athena helps Bobby into the house and everyone yells surprise.

A voiceover begins. Bobby gives a sentimental speech about coming home and being alive and love and all sorts of good stuff. It plays out over the final montage of the episode. Picture the tsunami arc end speech, basically. Maybe there’s a Hozier song too, idk.

We see some scenes of the party and the firefam all together. Later that night, madney put their kids to bed and watch from the doorway, holding each other. Henren curl up on the couch and plan their vacation. Bobby and Athena lie in bed, Athena’s head resting over Bobby’s heart. Bobby lifts her hand and kisses it.

Eddie heads to his bedroom at night. Before he walks through the door, he turns around and looks at Buck. Buck gives him a soft smile and follows. He pulls the door shut behind them.

End credits roll.

The next few episodes get Buddie together officially, have Bobby decide if he wants to retire or go back to work or whatever, have Chimney decide if he wants to stay Captain, have Henren’s fun arc and set up a serious arc for them. Ravi does something, probably, I don’t know. Stuff happens. I’m too tired to think about it. Lucy Donato appears at some point. Couch theory is real.

[thethronezone]

Love your primarchs and children stuff, is just perfect. But I raise you a funnier AU, primarchs finding out they are the ones expecting (lets all just excuse that the warp did it).

Mortarion - Grumbling about it all the time, mainly because he's mad about this being a magic thing that just happened to him. Lowkey afraid that the baby will be some kind of abomination or mutant (or worse, a PSYKER) and is not sure what he will do if that turns out to be the case.

Fulgrim - MOODSWINGS GALLORE. One moment he's ecstatic, eagerly looking forward to becoming a father and the next he's cursing the fetus out as nausea forces him to lay facefirst on the floor. Excited to become a parent but despises the physical side-effects of being pregnant.

Angron - Very angry because he did not choose this, it was forced upon him and Angron does not like it when things are done to his body without his permission. Grows increasingly upset when, as the pregnancy progresses, he's barred from any kind of fighting, even spars. Just wants the baby to be born already.

Magnus - Very excited about all of this. Sees it more as an experiment and an experience rather than, ya know, him becoming a parent. Diligently notes down everything that happens with his body during the pregnancy and charts the baby's progress in the womb. Sadly very unprepared about what to do when the baby actually is born.

Perturabo - He refuses to complain as he sees it as beneath him, but it's clear to everyone around him that he's incredibly unhappy. His unhappiness grows as he pregnancy continues and eventually starts showing. Perturabo does not want to talk about it and while he does quietly prepare for the baby's birth, he puts no emotional investment into it.

Alpharius - Which one of them is preggo? Alpharius? Omegon? Both??? Anyway, they ain't appearing in public for the rest of the pregnancy, their legion is going to have to fill in for them full time. At least until the baby is here. They keep bickering about names, apparently unable to come to an agreement for once.

Lorgar - Overjoyed and sees this as a miracle. You know those maternity dresses with open stomachs that reveal the baby bump? If Lorgar was allowed to, he would wear one but Kor Phaeron managed to convince him not to. Doesn't stop Lorgar from painting religious symbols on his stomach and reading his unborn child hymns and chants.

Horus - While he would have preferred to father a child, he is more than happy carrying one to term. Just happy to finally get the kid he's always wanted and while it admittedly feels really weird being pregnant, he looks forward to the moment of birth where he will finally become a father.

Konrad - Scares the crap out of everyone more than usual because he becomes kinda... feral? I am talking him in his old Night Haunter get-up (aka nude in a cloak), sitting in the shadows, eating god knows what (pickled onions which he suddenly started craving) and muttering cryptically. Otherwise surprisingly chill.

Sanguinius - Egg egg egg egg. While he rather quickly accepts that, yeah, this might as well happen, Sanguinius does get caught off guard by some of the... urges he experiences as the pregnancy progresses. Like building a nest? Not a nursery, an actual nest. He finds it very embarrassing when his sons stumble upon him in the middle of making one.

Corvus - EMPEROR, HE CAN'T DO IT! No, it's ok, he's fine. HE'S NOT FINE, HE'S NOT FATHER-MATERIAL. Chill, no worry, it can't be that hard. OH WHAT IS HE SAYING, HE CAN'T RAISE A CHILD! And then Corvus passes out in bed, snoring softly. Pregnancy is taking a lot out of him, poor guy.

Ferrus - Huh. Ok. This... might as well happen. Not necessarily happy about it but not that upset either. When life give you lemons... make a child? However that old Terran expression goes, Ferrus just buckles up and deals with it. At this is how he presents himself and the situation to others. Secretly a bundle of nerves and full of self-doubt but he refuses to let it show.

Rogal - Takes it all in stride. Did he expect this to happen? No. But he will adapt to the situation and continue on as normal. Well, mostly as normal. He's got to prepare for the child after all. Not just the birth but raising it as well. At the end of the week after his pregnancy reveal, Rogal has a solid plan for the first 18 years of his child's life.

Vulkan - Baby! Well, at least soon. Very excited and shares this excitement with his legion, who are also looking forward to the birth. Immediately goes to town on building a nursery and making toys for the baby, which he has all the time for since he stays out of frontline combat for the first half of his pregnancy and won't even leave Nocturne for the second half.

Lion - So moody, his hormones are a mess. Keeps snapping at both Dark Angels and serfs for the smallest things. Get's really territorial as well, fucking snarled at the serf that came to clean his quarters. Blames the baby for all of this and can't wait for it to be born already, just so things can go back to normal (completely forgetting that he's then got to RAISE it).

Leman - Fucking magic bullshit. While very unhappy with the fact that he's pregnant by magic means, Leman is more okay with the pregnancy itself. It's... weird but the baby is already developing inside him so might as well see what happens. Mostly just upset by the fact that he's not allowed to drink during his pregnancy and is not allowed to fight.

Jaghatai - Just straight up rolls with it. Is the situation unusual? Yes, but it's not bad. In fact, he quickly warms up to the idea of giving birth and becoming a father/mother. It actually seems kinda cool. Retreats from the frontlines for his pregnancy but refuses to stay in bed though. Catch him racing on his jetbike at 9 months pregnant.

Roboute - Internal panic. Immediately seeks out his adoptive parents for advice and reassurance because Guilliman knows nothing about having/raising children. Tries to distract himself by focusing on the logistics, like what the baby will need and such but it's only partially working. Ever so often he will put his pen down and just sit at the desk with his head in his hands.

[chunkitakii]

facesitting and “lux, it won’t fit 💔” with 3D lux 😋

In my mind i just turned into Junkrat and said “IVE GOT AN IDEA💡”

Lux/Mr. Ring-A-Ding NSFW *Face-sitting* HEADCANNON!!!

WARNING: this will contain facesitting, power imbalance, and Lux being the little asshole he is.

But omgggg, now that he’s HUGE and in 3D. I feel like face sitting would be a big YES for him.

Like when he had first turned 3D, and looked down at you for the first time. OH BOY, you could physically see a lightbulb on top of his head.

I wrote it out bcuz why not LOLOLOL.

Lux had made the mistake of accidentally bathing in the sun.

This all had happened when he fell asleep, after playing many rounds of chess with you, underneath an open window. When he fell asleep, it was nighttime. So him falling asleep in the moonlight occurred often. But today, it seemed like he was extra tired knowing that he fell asleep through his transformation.

He soon woke il feeling a little, different. Feeling a little bigger than usual, feeling a little more…3D.

(A/N: Ik Lux used the Doctors light to build a body, but idk how else Lux would have built one in this. So him bathing in sunlight was the only thing that popped up in my little head.)

You were currently organizing some film to Mr. Pyes request. The poor man hasn’t had any sleep in days, hopefully you can at least get some stuff off of his plate so he can take care of himself.

Lux was currently somewhere doing anything he can on his mind. Which even makes you wonder what he does for fun around here.

You simply shrugged it off and continued your work. Humming a soft tune to help with the quiet atmosphere around here.

“Oh~Sunshine!~”

Damn it…

“Yes, Lux?” You answered in the room, waiting for his answer across the hall. You wondered if he was going to bother you about the light again and how they were too dim, or maybe how he has been so bored lately, maybe he going to bother you about another game of Jacks.

“Can you be a lovely doll and come here? I just want to see my beautiful ray of sunshine! The light of my life! My firefly in the night-sky! My beloved!-”

“Okay-Okay, i’m coming!”

You let out an exaggerated sigh as you put down the film onto a nearby table. Ever since Lux showed up, you can’t get any work done. You didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

You made your way our the room and into the theater itself. Giving out a light stretch before addressing the toon that craved your attention.

“Okie Dokie Lux, what do you- WHAT THE F-!”

“Surprise!~”

And there he was, in all of his monstrously huge glory. Standing on the stage of the theater room, if he reached his hands up, he could definitely reach the roof. Lux was roughly about 10+ feet taller than you.

Lux looked different but the same at the same time. Lux was so detailed, to the bottoms of his feet to the tips of his antennas. It freaked you out, very much so that you subconsciously started to step back away from him.

Lux saw this, of course. Yet he couldn’t help but feel worried or smug about this. He can tell his new form made you uneasy, but he couldn’t hell but feel a sense of pride in that. Lux didn’t want you to run away in feel of him.

Lux needed a way to make you feel comfortable with him.

Locking his eyes back to you, he finally realized how small you were in-front of him. Your small form slightly quivering before him, and oh how it was adorable…

…Bingo.

“Oh sweetheart, why don’tcha’ come down here to the stage…” Lux taunted, trying to get you to come closer to him.

You whimpered quietly as you saw him take a step forward towards you. If he was smaller, it would have been 4 or 5 steps. But since he’s bigger, all it took was one.

You took a couple of steps back. You weren’t stupid enough to not get what he was trying to do. Lux had something in mind, something you couldn’t quite figure out. And you didn’t know if you wanted to stay any longer to find out.

“N-no, I’m good here thanks…” You muttered out. You made the mistake of turning your head to lock eyes with the door to escape. As soon as you did, you heard loud and quick footsteps run towards you.

Seeing a huge, 3D Ring-A-Ding run towards you full speed and grab you like you were a stuffed tog was not on your bingo card today…

A large hand was wrapped around your body, its three fingers both held you steady and kept you from pushing away any further. They also had enough grip to you lift your shirt up just a little.

It was Lux’s enormous hand that kept you in place. Keeping you from wiggling and writhing away from him. Or, in better explanation, his mouth.

Lux sat back onto the theatre stage, lying back far enough to crane his neck upwards so you can be positioned just above his face.

His huge tongue licked and prodded at your lower half, licking and sucking you bare. And of course, Lux did it with the brightest smile on his face, like he was eating a full course meal.

Just seeing you, head tilted back with the most loveliest moans that rolled off of that sweet tongue of yours. Your face skewered in pleasure, and not a word formed out of your mouth other than many yes’s and please’s. And by the stars, how he loved every single bit of it.

The sight of your little body above his face, with those little cries of yours. He would simply parish right then and there. You were just so cute, wiggling in pleasure in his hand, pushing and pulling his fingers near you and away from you. Lux just wanted to crush you from how adorable you are…

He didn’t know how long he has been at it, but it didn’t matter. Just as long as he tasted your sweet nectar more than once, he can live a perfect life.

He too felt himself moans in delight at the taste of you. Never once in his existence has he tasted anything like yours, and Lux made sure he was going to savor every last bit of it.

You, however, couldn’t decide if you’re were uneasy with the situation, or loving it. Your instincts had told you to run and get away from Lux. Hovering above his mouth, it was like you were prey, ready to get devoured whole.

Yet your body betrayed you, feeling all sorts of pleasure coming from Lux quickly shut down those instincts real quick. And honestly, with how big Lux is and how small you were compared to him. It sort of pleased you in way. You didn’t know why, but you’ll focus more on that thought after Lux is done with you.

Now for the other bit, I’m not sure how to start it but I’m just going to throw in some little points of how it would be like. 😭

I feel like he would be so into it, taking you in this bigger form. But you are SO quick to tear it down.

This toon is over 10 feet tall, just imagine what he’s packing underneath. Let’s be real here, you’re going to rip in half.

Gonna write a little scene of it anyway…

“Lux, I don’t think we can do this...” You nervously chuckled out. Nervously glancing at Lux and his ‘joy stick’.

Lux currently still hand you in his grasp, but he laid you down onto a blanket that was laid on the stage floor. He was still lining you down nevertheless.

His regions, however, was literally the size of your leg if not more. You didn’t plan to die today, so you did not want to take that chance.

After a while of thinking, Lux just ended up grinding his shaft on your smaller form until he finished. And oh boy, you were covered in it.

So taking Lux in his huge ass 3D form, is a no. Because let’s be honest, no human can take more than 30 inches.

But the toon still has fun eating you to the bone. :))

[mallory524]

Hello!

Bob meeting reader at a bookstore where they reach out for the same book and the conversation goes from there! :) The rest can be up to you!

Take your time and thank you!

(This is adorable)

something new

bob x reader

tags- thunderbolts spoilers*, occurs months after events of thunderbolts, bookstore meet cute, kiss on cheek oooo, the thunderbolts are a nervous wreck (and kinda nosy)

word count- 1513

notes- past few days have been crazy so that’s why posting has been scarce

The bookstore’s such a nice break from the loud chaotic streets Bob just walked along to get there. It’s warm and peaceful inside, and some songs that Bob recognizes are playing softly over the speakers. He could stay here for hours.

Bob walks up and down the rows, occasionally pulling out a book and sitting on the carpeted floor to read the description and maybe a chapter or two.

He’s made it to the back of the store, in the furthest corner from most of the other customers, when a book with a light blue cover and an intricate little design catches his eye. He reaches for it, but so does someone else.

He looks up to apologize and he ends up just saying nothing for a few seconds. This stranger, whose hand he’s still touching by the way, is gorgeous.

He pulls his hand away. “Sorry”

You just smile back at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

There’s another beat of silence.

Bob doesn't know exactly what to do. Why are neither of us walking away or anything? Why are we both just standing here? What am I supposed to say? I have to say something-

Luckily you break the silence for you both.

“You take it,” you say, gesturing to the book.

“Oh, uh thank you. I’m... just looking around and checking stuff out, you know,” he tells you. He's trying to sound casual, as if his heartrate isn't starting to pick up just a little.

You try for that energy, too. “Yeah, yeah same.”

You look at him for a moment. This guy’s really cute, what with his soft oversized sweater and dark curls. It's weird, though. He’s really familiar...

"I feel like I know you. Maybe I've seen you around town?" you suggest.

Bob knows it’s pretty likely that you recognize him from that day Valentina introduced the group as the New Avengers, and all the ensuing press coverage, but he doesn't want to talk about any of that right now. He just wants to talk to you about something normal.

"No, probably not. I don't get out very much," Bob tells you, and then immediately worried that that sounded too cold.

It's true, he really doesn't leave the tower much unless he's with the team. They all tell Bob to go out and do something fun while they're off on some mission he can't go on, but he always insists he loves hanging out at home- which he really does. It's nice. However, today felt different for some reason. He really felt like getting out there and trying something new. Now he's really glad that he did.

“Hm. Maybe I was wrong,” you say, “but I’m meeting you now. What’s your name?”

“Bob” he answers, extending his hand with a little smile.

You introduce yourself and then take his hand in yours. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bob.”

Bob feels the energy shift just slightly. He doesn’t know how so - and he doesn’t know why - but something’s different.

This is where conversations with strangers are supposed to end. But he can’t. Your words and actions seem so... intentional. The way your hand gently held his for a second longer than you typically would for a handshake. The way you’re looking at him, with so much care ... you're making it impossible for Bob to walk away.

He tries to keep the conversation going - super casually.

"It's really nice outside-"

"Bob do you want to grab something to eat?" you say, pointing at the little cafe on the other side of the store, effectively cutting him off.

His eyes widen just a little and you try not to smile. You clearly caught him off guard with that one, but you knew what he was doing; he was trying, but he wasn't about to make a real move.

"Yes. I would like that."

The two of you sat in there, happily snacking and chatting and getting to know each other for a long time. You talked about your friends, your favorite movies, your favorite books, what books you both think should’ve never been adapted to movies, your favorite places to shop, and on and on- You’re there for two hours before Bob decides he’d like to check out a thrift shop you'd mentioned.

You go and mostly just walk around the store looking at stuff, but Bob does end up buying a few things.

"What do you think of this sweater?" he says, throwing it on over his clothes. You reach out and touch the material, and it's the closest you and Bob have stood the whole night.

"I think it looks really nice on you. It's soft."

You look up and meet his eyes, and just then your phone starts loudly ringing. "Sorry, I've gotta take this."

You step outside for a moment, and Bob realizes he never took his phone off silent after leaving the bookstore.

He really should’ve done that earlier. 8 missed calls. 22 new messages.

He only has to read the last four texts in the group chat to understand that the Thunderbolts got home and didn't see him and now they’re getting frantic.

yelena- bob im so serious where did you go

bucky- If you’re out doing something fun, don’t stop on our account. Just let us you’re alright

john- you’re freaking us out. yelena’s about to search the entire city

john- call us

bob- sorry guys, I’m good don’t worry

yelena- oh thank god

john- WHERE WERE YOU

bob- i met someone and we’re out right now and my phone was on silent. I’ll be home soon

ava- ooooo you met someone??

yelena- WHAT

john- you’ve been ignoring us for 3 hours because you’re on a date?

john- but seriously congrats buddy

bob- it’s not a date

yelena- are you sure??

You come back and he puts his phone back in his pocket without responding to Yelena.

“Sorry I had to answer that. I was talk to someone from work about something we have to do tomorrow.”

Bob smiles, “Ah, don’t worry about it.”

Since you have work in the morning and Bob has 5 people waiting for him to get home, you decide to call it a night.

You’re walking along the city streets and taking in all the sights and sounds of the night. You notice the Watchtower in the distance and stop walking. “It really is pretty when it’s all lit up like that,” you say.

Bob decides now is probably the time to tell you the truth.

"It’s funny, that’s- that’s actually where I live. Those "new Avengers" are my friends. I didn't want to bring it up because ... it’s all so complicated, and I didn't want that to be the only thing we talked about. I should've mentioned it earlier, though."

He looks at you, waiting for some kind of exaggerated response (or for you to not believe him at all) but he’s just met with a sweet smile.

"I know," you say. "I figured it out a little while ago. I realized I'd seen you on the news… Plus, when you were telling stories about your friends, you kept referring to them by their names."

"Oh, well I'm sure that was a big clue," he says, laughing a little. He's glad you know - and he's especially glad that it doesn't seem to matter or change dynamic at all.

“I was more interested in hearing about you, Bob,” you tell him, taking a step closer to him. He’s looking at you like he’s trying to figure out if this is real. If you’re really standing in front of him and speaking to him so sweetly.

“Uh, I had a good time today. Would you want to do something again?” he asks, praying he didn’t misread this and this could be something that actually happens again.

"I thought you’d never ask. I’d love to. Can I have your phone?" you say, and proceed to add yourself to his contacts, with a little ":)" next to your name.

A minute or so later, you successfully hail a cab to share. You reach the tower, and as Bob is about to get out, you stop him and quickly kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you for a nice day. I had a good time.”

Bob nods and steps out, and the cab drives further and further from sight, but he’s still just standing there. Totally shocked.

He gets in the elevator and savors the quiet moment. It’s warm and the only sound is the faint hum of the elevator lifting him up to floor the Thunderbolts are on.

He knows that when he steps out of that elevator, they’re going to say "you scared us to death!" and "please do not ignore your phone like that again", and then they’ll have a thousand questions about you. He’ll have to tell them that they were right: it is good to get out and do something new every once in a while; sometimes you meet really cool people.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Memory Braid

Summary: Thunderbolts Tower Drabble -> Bucky braids Yelena's hair whilst speaking Russian.

Disclaimer: I saw somewhere a headcannon (maybe it was in the comics? I don't really know) that said Bucky taught Natasha how to braid her hair in the Red Room. This kinda evolved from that, so credit to the original poster for the Natasha/Red Room HC. Mostly fluff as a Tower based Fic. Not Proof Read.

The mission had been a long one; for everyone. 

Alexei had been quiet, disappearing into his ‘memory’ room for a few hours. Ava had made some food before she disappeared down the hallway. John had gone straight to the training room. Bob had disappeared into the library for a while, handing Bucky a book he’d been saving for him since they left for the mission. 

Yelena had gone for a shower and once Bucky had gotten himself cleaned up, he’d been sitting in the living space reading. 

Bob was right; it was a good book. 

However, just as he got half way through, a pair of feet started patting down the hallway from the kitchen. Bucky looked up to find Yelena dressed in her pajamas, a pint of ice cream under her arm with a spoon and a hairbrush in her other hand. 

She didn’t have to say anything. She rarely ever did. Bucky just looked at her as she stopped beside him, dog-eared his book, closed it and laid it beside him before opening his legs up. 

Yelena sat on the floor, in between Bucky’s legs before she pulled the lid from her ice cream away. 

For a while, she didn’t speak. Neither of them did. The only sounds made were the ones from Yelena’s spoon digging through the frost on the top of her food and the sound of the brush going through her hair. 

Eventually, Bucky laid the brush on his thigh as he started to section her hair. 

“Do you still have nightmares?” Yelena asked, her accent becoming a little thicker as she reverted to her birth-language. 

Bucky sighed, replying in Russian. “They’re getting easier.”

Speaking Russian with Yelena was helping them. After they’d settled into the Tower, Bucky had been awake late one night and Yelena had been surprised to find him still awake.  

It was that night Yelena had learned two more things about Bucky. 

One; that most of his nightmares were in Russian. He could still speak the language but was too afraid for the nightmares to become worse. 

Yelena had promised him a solution that could help. 

Talking to her. 

The second thing she learned was; Bucky knew how to braid hair. 

“I had a kid sister, but she got sick before we joined the war effort.” Bucky had explained to her. “Ma wasn’t well so I helped her with a lot more…girl stuff I guess. Once I was in the war, I helped Peggy a few times. Guess the skill stuck and, even when I was training in the Red Room…I helped Natasha learn.”

Yelena’s eyes had almost bugged out of her head when she found out. “Natasha? You…taught her how to braid hair…in the Red Room?” 

Bucky shrugged, uncertain himself. “It wasn’t long after that they took me to Serbia for a memory wipe and more psychological conditioning.”

Yelena had sat back, dumbfounded. “She always said it was natural talent.”

That was the first night Bucky and Yelena had also shared stories and laughed. 

It felt like freedom for both of them. 

“Sometimes I remember things, from when I was little.” Yelena said. “With Natasha.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Yelena shrugged. “It’s not much. It was during my peewee soccer days.”

Bucky didn’t mind. For the next twenty minutes, he listened to Yelena laugh her way through a memory of her and her sister. 

Half way through the story, Bucky reached his hand down and Yelena lifted her wrist. Plucking the bobble from her, he securely tied one braid before starting the second. 

“Oh, and then Molly decided she was going to be the guard to the castle. So, I simply argued why would she want to be a guard when she could be a knight-” 

By the time Bucky had finished braiding Yelena’s hair, he just stayed sitting behind her, listening to her story as she started to wave her spoon in the air. 

“So what happened?”

“Well, Natasha came over and told us we’d be playing a different game. And-”

As Yelena’s story came to an end, Bucky smiled. It was nice to hear something fun in Russian. It was also nice to see the light come back into Yelena after a mission that had been tough for everyone involved. 

“All done.”

Yelena examined the braids. “Well done. I forget how much better you are at these than me. So unfair.”

“He does have the hair for it.” Ava said as she walked into the room. 

“How long have you been there?”

“Like three minutes. You guys hungry?”

Bucky looked at the Brit. “Who’s cooking?”

“Not Alexei.”

Both Yelena and Bucky relaxed. The last dish Alexei had made hadn’t turned out so well. 

“We’ve got mac and cheese in the pantry,” Bob said as he walked inside. 

“With hot sauce?”

“I still can’t believe you eat it like that.”

Yelena leaned back to look at Bucky. “Oh, I’m sorry Mr I-make-everything-like-it’s-still-1943. Hot sauce is amazing.”

Bucky nodded. “I agree. Doesn’t mean it has to go on mac and cheese.”

“Party pooper.”

[beabaaboop]

⌗ 𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙂 ! .. 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼 𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙈𝙀𝙎𝙎𝘼𝙂𝙀

⌗ 𝜗𝜚 ✉️┆ ⋆ 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 , 𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 , 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 ⭑.ᐟ

( ʬʬ. ) ── 𝒊𝙣𝙛𝙤 : 𝗀𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 , 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖽𝗅𝗒 : 𝗍𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 , 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 , 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 , 𝖾𝗍𝖼 , 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗇𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾 , 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋 , 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 , 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌 , 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗄𝗆𝗌 , 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 , 𝗂 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋

꒰ ✉️ ꒱ : ❝ leave the scent of your cologne ❞

› wc. 1266┃ 𝓐𝗥𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗩𝗘

tossing and turning sucked , right ? especially in the middle of the night sleeping with someone who sleeps so , weirdly. damian was of the sort who slept .. "perfectly". he wasn’t hitting you , he slept in a calm position looking so peaceful. then there you were , tossing and turning , waking up on the other side of the bed.

so when you told damian you shouldn’t share a bed , he didn’t take you seriously. he thought you were overthinking the situation , he offered you to sleep there , to get rest. not to mention , you two weren’t dating , so it was weird already. you told him thousands of times , "let me sleep on the floor you will regret your decision in the morning.."

the only reason you two were sharing a bed was because you didn’t feel like going home , your parents already approved as well. you thought you could have the guest room or something , but his dad was hosting a late night gala or something. you weren’t really paying much attention but it’s whatever. so when you had to stay in that room with damian you almost killed yourself.

you were a terrible sleeper , you were just going to jump out of the bed and into the floor when he went to sleep. spoiler alert , it didn’t work.

ATTEMPT 1

you had patiently waited for his pretty little eyes to flutter asleep. the sound of his sighs , and chest moving slightly up and down. your plan would’ve worked if it was for the fact that damian wasn’t asleep. he had rested his eyes to enjoy the small presence you made next to him , clinging onto his arm for comfort. but as you slowly let go , moving sideways and all kind of ways he immediately caught on. “ beloved , what in the name of unruly behavior are you doing ..?” he had caught your wrist , he had a small grip not wanting to hurt you. “ i was going to .. use the bathroom.” small lies hurt not only you , but him. “ go , but when you come back fall asleep , ok ? we have only five hours to ourself before jason and dick come here storming in.” nodding your head , he had let you go. as you had used the bathroom , you brainstormed some more. then the most terrible idea popped into your head.

ATTEMPT 2

you thought if you were clingy enough he would push you off or something. so you decided to cuddle him in a friendly manner. you were a bit shorter than him , more like a lot , but both your chests had touched each other or close enough to that. your head buried in his neck , taking the sweet raw scent of him.

you didn’t know what to do with your legs so you just let them dangle. you had intertwined one of your hands with his. “ beloved , are you cold ?” mission failed once again. why couldn’t he just understand your terrible sleeping ? and the worse part about this is you also needed sleep for the big thing tomorrow , " family vacation " or some shit. your parents would be coming as well , and one of your siblings as the rest had stuff to do.

you would be sitting next to damain on his dad’s private jet. you only dug yourself deeper into him , and he had wrapped the cover around you more. “ please get sleep , you will get extreme jetleg when we get there if you don’t ..” he was always soft during the night , defensives less there and just more damian.

you couldn’t tell if it was because of you , or because of the fact he was sleepy. you wanted to sleep but you had other plans.

ATTEMPT 3

you stared at him for what felt like ten minutes , he noticed almost immediately. your lingering eyes , watching his adam’s apple bob , touching it every now and then. you swear you saw him flinch a bit , but like who wouldn’t though ? your hand had lingered to his chest , then downwards , for someone who serves angry cat all the time he has a pretty softly toned figure. “ my love , i thought you were going to sleep ..” and then you were caught , you kinda knew already. diverting your eye contact with him , he brought your chin up to eye view. “ tell me what’s wrong because i’m sleepy , and you seem like it too ..” like said earlier , he was more soft during the night , he needed breaks more often then he’d like to let on. “ nothings wrong , let’s just go to sleep , k ?” he nodded his head reluctantly , rolling his eyes a bit. as you two had fell asleep , you were sound asleep , and damian’s worst nightmare had just begun.

MIDNIGHT TERRORS

as you were asleep , damian had took in that you final went to bed. he , however , hadn’t , he needed to make sure you were really asleep. him doing this ended badly than more can imagine. you had already started rotating , and not to mention you were a heave sleeper. you slept through hurricane , tornadoes , thunderstorms , the broken fire alarm that needed batteries , and not to mention , rollercoasters. so as your body slowly inched off the bed , your head dangling , damian had took notice at that. “ are you ok ?” his voice fell on your asleep ears , you didn’t take in much when you were asleep or tired. “i’ll take that as a yes ..” he then sighed bringing you back up. he caressed your cheek , your sleeping body to him still looked radiant. but then you started kicking him , and from there , he slowly felt as if you needed a sleeping bag.

THE MORNING AFTER

“ well you look well ..” jason had joked about damian’s sleepy appearance. of course damian got sleep , one hour of it anyways. to him it was worth it , knowing his favorite person got rest. “ shut up.” you had slept amazingly , you were still a bit tired though. although you were talking with tim , and if anybody knew you two well enough , it was that you two were fairly similar. “ well they looked like they slept pretty good ? why is that damain ?” dick was trying to pry open damian , it would never work but he never cared. dick and jason ended up not visiting you two when you guys were asleep. in fact , nobody knew you fell asleep with damian , in the same bed. you’ve slept with him before , on the couch but that was different since he was the one that was asleep. “ no reason , now can you just let me live ..?” damian’s prickly personality slowly peeped out , never in front of you anymore. well he still does , but now it’s more of an in a sassy manner. “ wait did you two sleep together !!?” well someone said that too loud , everyone heard what dick and jason said in unison. well it was true , but this would be one awkward plane ride and summer trip

© 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝗯𝗮𝗮𝗯𝗼𝗼𝗽 , 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 , 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭 , 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 , 𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦 , 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.