#..........................the struggle is real:/

[kartoffelegg]

all in 1 chapter, so it reading it is like a rollercoaster

[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru is terrible at keeping secrets.

especially when that secret is you finally, after two years of relentless, dramatic, embarrassingly persistent courting, agreeing to be his girlfriend.

he swore up and down he could handle it—“…sure, sure, lowkey, hush-hush, i got you, baby,” he said, practically bouncing in place like the golden retriever he is, his white hair a fluffy mess, bouncing with every nod, bright blue eyes sparkling behind his blindfold—because, yeah, okay, it made sense. things were complicated. it would be messy if people found out too soon.

but also? it was satoru.

it was the lovesick man who has been hopelessly, pathetically down bad for you since the moment he laid eyes on you, and turns out, yeah, he can’t hide shit.

he’s doing the most. failing the most.

he’s staring at you during work like you’re the moon, the stars, the air he breathes, and probably breakfast, lunch, and dinner, too. the kind of gaze that has hearts practically floating out of his head like a bad shoujo manga. his lips tug upward in a soft, lopsided grin every time you so much as sigh. and it doesn’t help that he smiles like an absolute idiot every time you speak—his fingers fiddling with his pen, twirling it with that restless energy, like he’s got nowhere else to look but you. sometimes he props his chin on his hand, elbow on the desk, feet swinging beneath his chair, eyes glimmering with obvious affection. sometimes he kicks his feet, like he’s writing your name in hearts all over his notes.

and when people tease him about it?

“uh…uh…she’s just…” he chokes, rubbing the back of his neck, his white hair falling into his flushed face. his sunglasses slide down his nose as he stammers, his fingers nervously drumming on the table. “she’s cool! yeah! a really… really… cool… coworker!”

uh huh.

people start noticing real fast. the way you bring two drinks into meetings, both his favorite. the way his jacket mysteriously ends up on your chair, like he’s perpetually cold even though he’s not. the way you two walk in separately but somehow always leave together. the way satoru is always hovering two inches behind you like he’s your personal security detail, or maybe just your lovesick guard dog, his long legs struggling to slow his stride to match yours. his glasses slips sometimes, revealing those ridiculously bright eyes trained on you and only you.

and when you whip your head slightly and whisper scoldings under your breath, lips barely moving—"“you’re gonna blow our cover, dumbass”—he just beams, a grin so wide his cheeks push up against his blindfold. his fingers twitch, aching to reach out and tuck a stray hair behind your ear. it’s the kind of smile that could knock the air out of your lungs if you weren’t already holding your breath trying not to combust. he tilts his head like he’s imagining sliding a ring on your finger already, the soft flush on his cheeks betraying how much he’s already too far gone.

it’s not just the staring. it’s the giddiness. the way he forgets to keep his distance when you’re around. the way his shoulders instantly straighten when you walk into the room, like his whole body is magnetized to you. the way his fingers tap against the desk like he can’t wait to talk to you again. the way he fumbles, dropping his pen or knocking over his water bottle, when someone catches him looking at you like you’re his entire universe. it’s the way he instantly brings you snacks he swore were “for everyone” but somehow always end up on your desk, the wrappers piling up as you pretend not to enjoy the attention.

it’s also the way you’re absolutely pissed when you realize he’s blowing the secret wide open. your jaw tightens, your foot taps the floor, your arms cross, and your glare sharpens to a laser beam. you’ve warned him. you’ve scolded him. you’ve threatened to dump him—half-joking, half-very-much-not—if he keeps being so obvious. you press your palm to your temple in frustration as you whisper, "you're killing me here, satoru."

and suddenly, he’s panicking. his hands flail, baby blues orbs widening . his voice cracks, desperate. his fingers clutch the air like he's trying to grab the right words before they scatter.

“no, no, no, babe… please don’t dump me. i’ll do better, i swear. i’ll look less. i’ll… i’ll stare at the wall instead. i’ll wear sunglasses indoors. i’ll look at the floor forever. i’ll… i’ll even switch departments. please, please don’t leave me. i won’t survive it. i’ll just crumble into dust. i’ll haunt you. but like… in a hot way.”

he's clutching his chest dramatically, leaning into the nearest table for support like he’s seconds from collapsing. his bottom lip juts out in a pitiful pout, and his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you but knows he can’t—not here, not now. his feet shuffle in place like he’s trying to root himself to the ground, but his whole body screams to be closer to you.

“you’re so bad at this,” you deadpan, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, pretending you’re not melting inside because you’re emotionally constipated and you like to act like you’re not just as whipped. but your ears are pink. you know they are. you can feel the heat blooming across your skin. you shift your weight onto one leg, tapping your finger against your elbow in mock annoyance, but your foot has already inched closer to his.

“but you still love me right?” he pouts, voice softening, tilting his head as he leans closer like a puppy waiting for a treat. his hair flops forward over his blindfold, his grin tentative, hopeful, like he’s staking his entire existence on your next words. his toes point toward you, his shoulders curling in, like you’re his center of gravity.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumble, rolling your eyes, but you’re already reaching for his hand beneath the table, already letting him lace his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking soft circles into your skin like it’s instinct, like it’s home. he squeezes your hand like he never plans to let go.

he brightens instantly, a soundless laugh puffing from his chest, his white hair bouncing with the force of his excitement. his entire body relaxes, his feet kicking slightly under the table. “i’ll be better! i’ll be so sneaky, baby! like a ninja! you won’t even see me coming! i’ll be a ghost! you’ll be so proud of me!”

spoiler: he does not, in fact, get any sneakier.

he gets worse. because now he’s trying so hard to “be sneaky” that he ends up staring harder. he waves at you across the room with a smile that’s way too fond, his hand flopping in a lazy, unmistakable greeting that lingers just a second too long. he trips over his own feet when you so much as glance in his direction, scrambling to play it cool like his heart didn’t just somersault into his throat. he texts you from three desks away: “do you miss me?” like you’re not in the same building, like he hasn’t seen you in five minutes. he sends you selfies from the next room with captions like, “thinking of you” and “missing my girl.”

he's a terrible liar. but he’s the best boyfriend.

so you let him. you let him slip up. you let him look at you like you’re his whole world. you let him wear that stupid grin. you let him love you loudly, even when he’s supposed to be quiet about it. you let him text you unnecessarily, bring you snacks with your name written on the wrapper, and you let him keep leaving his jacket on your chair.

you’re just as hopeless, aren’t you?

[sha-brytols]

our franchise is so progressive and class-aware and culturally conscious. we focus on the Real struggles of the common people. and we make sure our dilemmas are always rooted in complex socioeconomics and never in anything so petty as Good and Evil. we only ask the hard hitting questions. such as Do The Mentally Ill Deserve to Live? or Does The State Have a Point About Enforced Eugenics? or Is Genocide Acceptable If The Victims Are Unpleasant To Be Around? or my personal favorite: What If This Society That Has Been Caricaturized By The Dominant Colonialist Religion As Being Bloodthirsty Savages And Conquering Invaders Is Actually Inherently Warlike, Violent, and Xenophobic In The Exact Ways The Dominant Colonialist Religion Has Claimed?

with special guest star Every Woman On The Planet Only Fit Into Four Categories (Madonna, Whore, Child, or Also Madonna But This Time With A Sword) and recurring character Black Woman You Should Never Listen To Because Trust Me Bro

[astrolook]

🌌 Retrogrades in a Birth Chart - Some Roots Take Time To Grow 🌿

Note: These are all my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years. Take what resonates with you more and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments if it hits home! A single placement or aspect isn't enough to conclude and the whole chart has to be analyzed!

Mercury Rx - I think in essays, speak in tweets. 🧠✍️

Mercury Rx natives sometimes overshare or say nothing at all. They think fast, speak slower. They edit their sentences in real life. These natives pick things up quickly but lose focus just as fast. Their projects start strong, then get abandoned or revisited later with a whole new mindset. Mercury Rx can have grand ideas in mind but struggles to put them into words or into reality. Usually, Mercury Rx natives are better at texting, writing, and drawing than talking. Two Mercury Rx people can either understand each other on another level or be completely out of sync with each other and can talk in circles. Mercury Rx natives can change the topic mid-convo and go on like nothing happened. Mercury Rx natives can be good at stirring the pot for entertainment. They are good at negotiating, convincing people to believe their ideas. Can make money out of thin air. These natives have selective memory.

For example: Mercury Rx in 6th/8th/12th natives are so good at twisting narratives to suit their needs and are good at lying. You don't even know whether they're telling the truth or not. Their opinions can change like seasons, and they can struggle sticking to a certain mindset. However, this is a great placement for fantasy writers, journalists, bloggers, media-related jobs in general, lawyers, filmmakers, actors, programmers, etc. Mercury Rx in 5th/11th natives are bad at lying. They can be involved in too many things at once only to abandon them. Mercury Rx in 3rd/9th loves to prank others or the other way around. they love DIY and crafts and might follow niche communities. Online trolls.

Venus Rx - I ghost myself before I ghost you. 👻😅

Venus Rx natives are either impulsive in love or avoidant. These natives give mixed signals to their partners. One day they're warm and giving, the next they're building walls and won't let anyone in. Love either comes too soon, or when the timing is off, or never comes when they need it the most. These natives will remember how the other made them feel, whether it's rejection, not being enough, unwanted, too much, or ignored. It lingers in their mind, and it shapes how they view love. These people don’t “date around” easily. They wait for people to choose them. They test their partner to check if they're worth it! Late bloomers in love. Sometimes, they might even lower their standards and expectations just to feel any love, only to end up feeling drained and exhausted. They might choose partners who treat these natives like a backup plan. However, these natives will remember it and instead of letting go, they carry that disappointment into the next person, the next connection, the next version of themselves. Depression. They sometimes would be loyal to the wrong person just because they have "history."

For example, Venus Rx in 6th/10th can attract envy from women, discrimination in the workplace, judged by their appearance or clothing styles. People might underestimate them or won't take them seriously. So, these natives overcompensate and work overtime to prove themselves that they deserve it. Still, their co-workers/ peers would think they slept their way to where they are or not that talented. Venus Rx 1st can be the target of harassment or could have been called crazy for their lifestyle choices. People tend to attack these natives more easily than others, whether it's racism, appearance, religion, ethnicity, or other factors. They could be either old-fashioned or into niche fashion.

Mars Rx - I argue better three days later. 🕒😐

If a dormant volcano were a person. People think these natives are calm. But no, they're holding it in. Sometimes for years, until their anger turns volcanic and their words spew out like lava. Unfiltered. Their regret shows up in action, not words. They might look or seem lazy, but they often feel stuck between wanting to act and being unsure how. They second-guess their instincts. They might want something badly, then sabotage it out of fear or confusion. In conflict, they’re unpredictable. Either they avoid it completely or burn the whole thing down. Some pick fights just to feel something, others disappear to avoid hurting anyone. They don’t always know the difference between defending themselves and attacking. Sometimes they hurt people with words, then feel guilty forever. Sometimes they say nothing and carry resentment for years. Desire is complicated. Some of them feel numb to it. Others have urges they don’t understand and would be chasing people, projects, or things that don’t make sense. Some isolate when they’re mad. Some turn pain into action like breaking things, quitting jobs, and blocking people. Others turn it inward and self-destruct first. When they finally stop holding back, when they choose action over avoidance, their energy becomes exact. Focused. Intense. Unstoppable. The storm clears, and they learn how to move without destroying everything in their path.

For example, Mars Rx in 8th/12th bury their anger six feet deep. They definitely hold grudges quietly and would strike at the worst time for the person who hurt them. The other person won't even know that the native is behind it. Mars Rx in 2nd can either overspend or hoard things. These natives might not get a reward for their work, or it may be delayed. Mars Rx in 7th can attract passive-aggressive partners or become one themselves. When snapped, they can go from silent tolerance to full-blown blow-ups over small things.

Jupiter Rx - I left faith on read. ✝️📱

Jupiter Rx natives practice 3 different religions within a year and still feel unsure. Teenage crisis. What people call expansion, they call noise. Their lessons come from within, not from gurus or traditions. They don’t believe in blind luck. They believe in trial and error, and mostly error. Wins feel delayed. Guidance shows up late. Things eventually work out, but rarely in the way they are planned or wanted. Once they let go, things would happen to them in the most harmonious way possible. When good things happen, these natives won't give a happy or butterflies-in-the-stomach reaction. Instead, they would be suspicious of it. After believing it's for them, they would still maintain a composed posture. These natives are liberal minded, agnostic/irreligious/atheist, and can still be spiritual. These natives come off as skeptical, cynical, or too “in their own world.” They hold on to past decisions too tightly or judge themselves for outgrowing past beliefs. They often feel like they're behind their peers until one day, these natives get 10 levels ahead of them once they surrender and let things happen. The beauty with Jupiter Rx is that luck doesn't knock on their door. They're the luck. It just takes them years to find that out.

For example, Jupiter Rx in 5th natives' children would be lucky to have the native as their parent. Jupiter Rx in 7th or as 7th lord, their spouse would be lucky to have the native as their spouse. Jupiter Rx in 4th can mean that the native's family would feel lucky to have the native as their child or having them as their family member.

Saturn Rx - I work smart. Or not at all. 🛋️🧠

Saturn Rx natives don't trust authoritative figures, including their own. These natives learn early that rules don't always protect you. they might have a figure in their family who was basically a "rules for thee, not for me" type. Grow up too fast. Responsibility was either too much too soon or avoided until life forced them to deal. Afraid of failure. One thing with Saturn Rx is that when these natives are scared, they would never admit it. They don't want to feel weak. Some might even avoid crying in front of others, including their family. They would go to great lengths to hide their weakness instead of working on it. Build walls instead of asking for help. They stay in jobs, habits, even relationships way past their expiration date just to feel safe. They don’t like being seen trying. Effort is private. So is shame. If they fall, they do it behind closed doors. Smart workers. Knows the shortcuts to achieve success in life, but some won't take them. Impostor syndrome. Can be unemployed for months at some point in their life. Once their career takes off, these natives become unstoppable. Saturn Rx here is protecting these natives from troubled career paths and only gives them the right path at the right time.

For example, Saturn Rx in 7th can mean an absent father figure. Their older spouse can be laid back or take a back seat in their career after marrying the native. Attract partners who are serious and long-term and have little to no options for dating here for many with this placement. Saturn Rx in 10th can mean that these natives can have long gaps in resumes or even unemployment. Might get into jobs that don't reflect their real skills. For some, their career takes off in their 30s or even 40s. Saturn Rx in 2nd can mean that these natives can come from a low-income family or a household with financial struggles. Might get into connections with people just to feel secure. Money grows after 30 and only after they have learned to earn the right way.

Uranus Rx - I forget on purpose. Or do I? 🤫📂

Uranus Rx natives can look traditional on the outside but rebel on the inside. One may never know what these natives are capable of, as they're good at deceiving others. They can easily blend in with the crowd and seem agreeable. Deep detachment, sudden rejections, and quiet cut-offs are their recipe to stay chill. These are the people who smile at the dinner table while silently unsubscribing from the whole dynamic. A Uranus native doesn't trust "the system". But a Uranus Rx native won't even trust their own family, community, co-workers, religions, and even themselves at times. A lot of them appear to follow the rules, but only because they’re rewriting them behind the scenes. These people outgrow people fast. But they don’t always let them know. Instead, they disappear or would make it impossible for them to reach the native. Distance becomes their protection. It’s easier to vanish or become out of reach than to explain their evolution to someone who wouldn’t get it anyway. Their memory is selective but sharp. They forget what they ate for breakfast, lose their keys, ignore calls, but remember exactly what you said five years ago during a fight. Hard to pin down, but impossible to fool. One may never know what they're thinking, but that's what these natives want. When they snap out of the blue, these natives end friendships/ relationships, move cities, shift careers, or even move countries without mentioning a word to anyone. These natives' relationships are either all-consuming or ice-cold. Freedom matters more than comfort. Their unique trait is that they can be loyal and distant at the same time. They’ll ghost you and still think about you every day for a year. Wrong them once, and they will get over you within 30 seconds and never look back. You're already dead to them.

For example, Uranus Rx in 5th can have a crush on someone and obsess over them for months, only to change their mind after finding out that their crush did something they don't like. Would break up with someone over text and not look back. They would reject the same person they fell for before it even begins. Uranus Rx in 7th can be unpredictable in love. Do they even have a type? They long for stable relationships but routine feels like a trap. Uranus Rx in 4th could have had a tough home life or been unconventional. Single-parent households, stepdaddy/ mommy figures, stepsiblings, etc can be seen here in some cases.

Neptune Rx - I’m softer than I look. Colder than you think. 🧊🫀

Neptune Rx people are hard to fully know and half the time, they don’t even fully know themselves. They second-guess what they feel, what they see, and who they are on the inside. Reality blurs. Memory twists. They’ve been gaslit or emotionally manipulated, sometimes without even realizing it. These people learned early how to hide. How to escape. How to shape-shift into what was needed. Truth became flexible, and so did identity. They have powerful inner worlds. Too powerful, sometimes. They’ll fall in love with a fantasy version of someone and ignore all the signs. They’ll convince themselves they’re okay when they’re drowning. They might cry alone and then act totally fine in public. They pick up on energy they can’t explain. Can have imaginary friends or talk to self in private. They talk, sing, and dance when no one's looking. They can actually fake their persona depending on the person they're with. They don’t show the full truth until they’ve seen yours.

For example, Neptune Rx in 4th always dreams of the perfect family, home, and everything since they didn't get it in reality. These natives often move countries/cities and stay away from family members to live their dreams. Might live in a toxic family household where everyone thinks they're fine and happy. Neptune Rx in 8th natives has intimacy issues. They don't know if they're the victim or supposed to feel sorry for the one who hurt them. They're good at reading others, bad at reading themselves. Neptune Rx in 11th natives never feel truly fit in anywhere. There’s a pattern of feeling invisible in groups or being part of social circles that don’t reflect their actual self.

Pluto Rx - I outgrow myself annually. Stay tuned. 🔁🖤

Pluto Rx natives are always going through some kind of inner death. You may not see it, but they’re constantly burning bridges inside themselves. It's like they burn their old versions, dead emotions, people they haven't spoken to in years, and toxicity every year like a ritual. These are the ones who don’t show their breakdowns. They disappear, transform, and return new. The world never really sees their mess, only the rebirth. They upgrade themselves each year. These natives would keep secrets, even from the people they love and trust. They're deep, but not always emotionally open. They fear being exposed, especially when they’re vulnerable. So, they test people. Push them. Watch how they react before deciding if they’re safe. They either face their wounds fully, or they run until life forces them to. Their biggest breakthroughs happen in silence. One year, they’re one person. Next, they’re unrecognizable even to themselves. Physical transformation is possible too. They outgrow people, places, even entire identities, like it’s an annual process. Some might change their name or have a "stage" name in their career.

For example, Pluto Rx in 1st natives are either obsessed over by others or hated by others. Always in survival mode. They rebuild their self-image every season, and no one's ever truly met the real version of these natives. Pluto Rx in the 3rd natives can be good at coding, writing, drawing, etc. Can be cryptic in the way they speak. Ghost friendships out of the blue and would never look back. Pluto Rx in 5th natives pour their trauma into art or through their creative outlets.

💌For readings, check out my pinned post for pricing! ✨💌🪐

[houseofhyde]

Omg maybe a soft moment w manchild Bucky and reader where they are in bed slow touches talking about their feelings and how buckys been after her for so long and how she felt it too and omg.

Maybe not tho bc I might literally die of love resding it

signs in the silence. a manchild drabble.

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader. synopsis. fighting off sleep to scrape a little more time together, you interrogate bucky and find out all the things sam told him about you. warnings. mentions of smut/prior sexual activity, bickering, unlabeled relationship, reader being a sore loser (uno is hell on earth when you're losing), fluff, a tiny bit of angst. reader inclusivity. like a single mention of bucky brushing away an invisible strand of hair. wordcount. 2.7k (okay so maybe idk how to only write a drabble, sue me!) hyde's input. bestie, i saw your ask enter my inbox this evening and immediately started writing it, i swear i was possessed into finishing this in one sitting. ik it's not exactly what you asked for but i hope you enjoy reading it! (unedited, we die like real men)

Curtains dance in the wind like billowing ballgowns, lifting and dipping in the arms of the night. Past the window pane, rain reigns the streets below, staining everything beneath the stormy sky. Despite the weather and the ungodly hour, the city is still wide awake and, alongside it, so are you.

“You’re cheating!”

“How am I cheating?” There’s something unfair about how jaw-dropping Bucky still looks like this: cross-legged on the bed, wearing nothing but boxers and tired eyes, and clutching a two-card hand of colourful cards. If he hadn’t just condemned you to pick up twelve, you would reach over and steal a kiss. “I don’t even know the rules to this stupid game.”

“If it’s so stupid, why do you keep beating me?” You’re begrudgingly picking up your dues and struggling to hold the stack of cards in one hand.

As he tries to help you pick up a card that slips off the edge, you swat metal fingers away.

“Begginers luck,” the soldier shrugs, placing down his second last card. “Uno.”

Yellow Seven. Fuck.

“I actually hate you,” you groan, collapsing back against feather pillows.

“You’re holding half the deck, doll,” the ill-will you feel towards him in this moment aside, you can’t help the way your heart gives a little leap at that silly name of endearment. If feelings make fools, you’re leading the pack. “There’s no way you don’t have a playable card.”

Fingertips — flesh, warm and tender with their touch — slide up the back of your calf, hooking under your knee before attempting to tug you closer, down the bed, to where he sits by the edge. Like a child throwing a tantrum, you kick your legs, shaking off his touch.

“I don’t wanna play with you any more,” between the yawn you’re fighting off and the pout that’s taken capture of your lips, you truly are a pitiful sight. The knowledge of this doesn’t stop you from throwing down your cards and making a run for it off the mattress.

Unfortunately, your roommate has the reflex skills of a ninja and, no sooner than your feet touch the ground, his arms grab you from behind and drag you into his lap.

“God you’re such a sore loser,” he mouths against the skin of your neck, trailing his lips over the kisses he already tattooed into your skin hours ago, when the sun was barely setting and he had you pressed against the walls of the shower.

“I am not!” Two fingers pinch at his arm. You quietly delight in the way it only makes him squeeze them tighter around you, biceps straining deliciously on either side of you.

“Are too!” His teeth clamp down on your earlobe, and you have to physically hold yourself back from grinding back into his lap, the burning outline of his semi-hard cock straining against navy fabric heavy on your mind. “Sam even warned me about it.”

Glancing at him from over your shoulder, you find his eyes already on you. It’s something you’re coming to learn about him, quietly and unaddressed, just how attentive of a man he is. “You seriously shouldn’t trust a word that man says. He’s an agent of chaos!”

“Hey, that’s Captain America you’re talking about,” this time, he’s pinching you and, when you squirm, he takes the opportunity to scoop an arm beneath your knees and lifts you both off the bed. “And, according to him, you once bit his sister during a game of Twister.”

“One time,” You hold up a single finger and Bucky leans his head forward to bite it. “And it was only after she nearly choked me!”

After guiding both your hands to grab on behind his neck, your soldier takes away the hand supporting your back and uses it to dust off the sheets. Cards go flying and float onto the ground, and not once does the neurotic voice, that lives in your mind and berates any disorganisation, tell you to care about the mess.

In what world could a mess on the floor be more important than the way Bucky slides you both back down atop the mattress, card-free sheets pooling over your skin as the soldier pulls you into him.

He closes his eyes for all of four seconds before you’re whispering across the pillows.

“What else did Sam warn you about me?”

Blue irises reappear, one by one, and you can see how exhaustion has stitched itself across his face. You feel a twinge of guilt, keeping him awake on a night like this, but you’re selfish and you want every extra second with him you can get.

“He said you were the most intelligent yet incapable person he’s ever met,” his legs bump against yours beneath the sheets as he shuffles a little closer. You meet him halfway, intertwining your limbs in a tangle that’s slowly growing familiar. “Nearly didn’t believe him… Then I saw you for the first time.”

“You two are real mean, you know that?” There is not an ounce of grit behind your voice, just pure unadulterated adoration that a more awake version of yourself would be doubled over, gagging at the sight of it. Stand up, girl! You can almost hear her — you — say. He’s literally just a man! “What was so incapable about me opening the door of my home to the needy, huh?”

The soldier takes capture of the hand you poke against his chest, leading it up the path to meet the soft press of his lips. This is another thing you’re learning, how constant he craves contact, a hand always at your back, or a shoulder bumping against your own, or a head buried in your neck, he’s a fiend for the feel of flesh.

“Who said that’s the first time I saw you?” He challenges.

“Oh.”

“It was months before that. Sam and I, we were hiding out at a black-market art gallery in Madripoor because of… well, that’s not important,” as if he feels the tension bubbling beneath your skin, he dances over the dangerous part of his life, the parts you don’t get to see, the parts that turn him into a single phone call for days on end. “You called Sam, one of those face-clock calls-”

“It’s facetime, grandpa,” you tease him with a smile, reward him with a press of your mouth down into his right shoulder.

“Whatever. Point is, there was a mirror behind him and that’s where I saw you,” vibranium cups its palm around your face and you turn into its touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he soothes your cheek. “You were crying, begging for help after smashing your shower door whilst trying to kill a spider.”

“I stand-by the fact that could have happened to anyone.”

“Darling, no it couldn’t,” his laughter shakes his chest and you. It makes you want to dive deeper into his touch, feel his next laugh erupt in your own chest. “No one else would be silly enough to throw a baseball bat at a spider the size of raindrops.”

“It was jumping! And I didn’t have any spray!” You turn away from his touch, only to nestle your face in the crevices of his collarbone. Despite the chill in the air, Bucky’s a furnace against you, sheltering you from the cold. “Tell me something else Sam said.”

“Hmm,” he pauses to think, his flesh arm curling around your back and rolling you into him. He smells like Bucky but, also, you, traces of your citrus bodywash staining him hours after you lathered him in it beneath the flowing waters of the shower. Something curls in your loins, possessive and satisfied with the claim you’ve made on his skin. “That you have an insatiable sweet tooth. Backed it up with a story where he had to pry you out a bakery after failing to get some promotion at work.”

“I still can’t believe they gave it to fucking Frank,” you huff, the bitterness still present on your tongue after all these years. “They ended up firing him within a year after realising that, beneath all that manly testosterone, he was incompetent.”

“Just your type, then?” The bastard muses, effortlessly blocking the hand that’s reaching for his nipple and pressing it flat against his chest instead. You feel his heart, beating a little stronger with each pulse, there's a magnet in your palm commanding it to break free from its ribcage and fly right into your hand. “Sam said you always wanted to learn to bake, but were too lazy.”

“Too busy,” you roll your eyes, though deep down there’s a truth in Sam’s claims. “Luckily, you’re a whizz in the kitchen. And I’m not just talking about when you bend me over the counter and threaten to use the spatula to spank-”

“Why do you think I wanted to learn to bake?”

Reminiscing on your salacious adventures together quickly stops, the moment you take a second to actually think about what he’s saying, what he’s not saying. You’re both good at this game, tip-toeing around a subject you both keep bringing to light yet never fully revealing. There’s excitement in the unsaid, in the quiet touches and unmentioned actions that hint at something you’re both too stubborn to address.

Tonight will not be the night either of you give in and fold.

“Tell me something else,” oh god, there’s a yawn caught in your throat. With difficulty, you swallow it down before the soldier can point it out.

“He never warned me you were so demanding,” you whine in protest into his skin and feel the dance of his hand running up and down your back, an apology that seeps through skin and into your spine. “But he did mention you have awful taste in men.”

The hand on your back slips lower, pressing dimples into the skin at the base of your spine as you push yourself off his chest and come face to face with him. The moonlight is forgiving tonight, granting you the pretty view of his illuminated features. The fondness in his eyes, the curve of his lips, the wrinkles beginning to threaten stains upon his skin, the scars you’ve yet to ask about.

For every imperfection and every inch of adoration, he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Something tugs at your heart.

“The worst taste,” you murmur, bringing your lips down to meet Bucky’s in a kiss that has him exhaling with relief and gripping at your skin tighter.

“Yeah?” He mumbles, stealing the air you exhale. “Tell me, what kind of man merits your attention?”

“The kind who works out every muscle but his brain,” you drag your lips over his jaw, relishing in the scrape of his stubble.

“Hey, I read!” Finally, it’s his turn to feel the sting of offense.

“Typical man, making everything about himself,” you settle back down against his chest, ear pressing close enough to where you can hear the thunder of his heart. “This is about my dream man, Buck, not you.”

“Didn’t you call me your dream man last time I ate your-”

“Anyway, I like the kind of man who listens to both my problems and my complaints, and then does whatever he can to fix things without pressuring me.” Flashback to last week, when you complained about the strap of your bag snapping half-way home only to awaken the next morning to it all stitched perfectly back together.

“You like the considerate kind then,” he whispers, and you swear you hear a twinge of nervousness on his tongue.

“And the kind who makes me feel beautiful with just a single glance at me,” exhibit A stares down at you right now, a shine in his eyes that makes you want to swoon.

“That must be any man,” he brushes a nonexistent hair off your forehead, “I mean, look at you.”

“I also like the kind of man that chases me, even when I’m too focused on what’s ahead to glance back and notice him,” there’s a strange squeeze in your throat as you swallow down a breath, thinking back on all the hints of longing he may have dropped that you’ll never know about.

“That man would still chase you, even if you never looked back,” the way he’s speaking to you and touching you, like you’re a rose petal threatening to fall off its stem, is not helping the lump in your throat. “In case you stumbled and needed someone to break your fall.”

That does you in, sends the first tear falling off your eyelash and landing on his naked chest, while you muster a quiet, “I like the kind of man who calls.”

His hands don’t freeze, and no part of him jumps with shock. Instead, his chest deflates with resignation.

“You know about the mission,” it’s not a question.

It doesn’t need to be, he already knows the answer.

“How?” This, however, is a question he needs to ask.

You shrug into him, refusing to give in to his search for your face as you focus on hiding it in the warmth of his skin, hidden from the look on his face you’re too afraid to confront. “Something just felt… different when I woke up.”

“Like what?” It’s not an accusatory thing, just a simple search for answers from a man who’s trying his best to keep you from falling apart against him.

“Well, you woke me up with your head between my legs-”

“What’s different about that? I did the same on Tuesday, too.

“And then brought me breakfast in bed.”

“You feed me, I feed you, that’s how a-” he doesn’t quite say the R word, but you feel it, in the way he seers a kiss onto the crown of your head, “Is supposed to work.”

“Then there was the three course meal waiting for me when I came home from work,” you still remember the way your heart was stuck between soaring at the sight of him setting the table as you walked into the apartment, and sinking with realisation that your suspicions were definitely true. “If all that wasn’t enough, I could tell from your touch.”

“My touch?”

“It was like… you were trying to memorise me. Not just when we were in the shower, but each time you took my hand across the table and brushed over my shoulder before clearing our plates,” you feel him sinking his fingers over your flesh, a soft squeeze at your hip. “Even now, it’s like you’re trying to hold onto me because you know you have to let go.”

“I just…” He sighs with defeat, not helping his case when he lays another kiss against your head. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“That’s okay,” you lie, for both of your sakes. “It’s not like you’ve not left to go help Sam before.”

“This isn’t before,” you both hate and adore him for the firmness he puts into the statement. “Before was different, we weren’t us.”

As much as this aches, ripping your chest apart to carve out your heart with the bitter truth of Bucky’s life as a hero catching up to whatever safe haven you two have locked yourselves away in, you’ll happily take the pain, the lump in your throat, all of it. There’s no price too high to pay to have this moment, laying in Bucky’s arms and pretending there’s no one in the city but you two, fighting off sleep for a moment more of each other’s presence and leaving fingerprint evidence of one another on your skins.

“You’ll be gone by the time I wake up,” you could get mad at him for not telling you, for the chance he almost took at leaving you another measly note on the fridge. But all you feel is the mutual ache of wanting to put off the inevitable, just a little longer. “Won’t you?”

You feel him nod, feel him squeeze his arms around you tighter, feel your heartbeats start to sync as sleep slowly guides you away from his loving gaze.

“I promise I won’t miss a single call, doll.”

[peasack]

I have a patent-teacher conference and guys its not okay I'm cooked.

Lowkey a bit of Valentina slander at the end but that's okay cause who likes her anyway.

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦ Parent-Teacher conference headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ Alexei Shostakov ✦

Immediate big bear grin. “Of course! I would love to! Finally, official father duties! I am ready.”

He’s way too excited. You almost regret asking him because he immediately starts planning what to wear like it’s the Olympics.

He introduces himself as your “papa” and tells wildly exaggerated stories about your achievements that didn’t happen.

“Ah yes, Y/N once lifted a car. Very strong. Takes after me.”

The teacher is just blinking rapidly “I-what?”

He lowkey embarrasses you, but he’s also so proud.

Brags about you non-stop and leaves with his arm around you, even if you’re fake-mad at him the whole way home.

✦ Yelena Belova ✦

Acts super casual about it. “Yes, I can go. Why not? Someone must supervise the situation.” But she’s secretly honored you asked her.

She shows up in the coolest outfit and definitely intimidates your teacher a little.

If the teacher complains about you, she’s like: “No. You are wrong. Y/N is perfect.” (Dead serious.)

If they praise you, she’s smug for the rest of the week.

“You know, you could have asked anyone. But you picked me. Admit it Mouse. I am the best.”

✦ Bucky Barnes ✦

Very quiet, kinda awkward. “Me? Uh… yeah. Sure, kid. If you want me to.”

He sits stiffly, probably wears his nicest jacket. Doesn’t say much unless he needs to defend you.

If the teacher says you’re struggling, he’s all protective like, “What’s the school doing to help them? They’re not doing this alone.”

Absolutely takes your side.

If the teacher complains about you hanging out alone, Bucky’s just like, “Yeah? Maybe the other kids should be less annoying.”

Buys you snacks on the way home.

Barely talks about the meeting, just quietly says he’s proud of you.

✦ John Walker ✦

Blown away. “Wait, you want me to go? Like… with you? Of course! Yeah, I can do that. I’m good at that. Totally. Parental figure. Yeah.”

(He’s so flustered it’s adorable.)

Takes it VERY seriously. Nods way too much. The teacher lowkey loves him because he’s polite and enthusiastic.

If they criticize you, John gets defensive FAST.

“Have you considered that maybe your teaching style isn’t working for them? Just a thought.”

Treats you to dinner after like it’s a whole formal event.

“You did good, kid. Real good. Thanks for letting me be there.”

✦ Bob Reynolds ✦

Looks like you just asked him to hold the sun. He’s so touched. “Me? You really want me to go? Yeah. Yeah, I’d be honored.”

Soft-spoken the whole time. Very respectful but sharp when it comes to defending you.

He listens carefully, makes eye contact, thanks the teacher even if they’re being harsh.

If the teacher praises you, he beams.

Quiet little proud smiles. Might ruffle your hair without thinking.

Gets awkward when you thank him.

“Oh—uh, you don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you wanted me there.”

He'll be smiling after that all day.

✦ Ava Starr ✦

“Why me?” but not in a bad way—just genuinely surprised you’d choose her.

When you tell her you trust her, she agrees instantly. “I’ll be there. You got me.”

Has the most terrifying resting face. The teacher is so scared to say anything negative because Ava looks like she’ll end them.

If the teacher says you’re doing well, Ava’s eyes soften.

She just mutters, “Told you they were good.”

Doesn’t make a big deal out of it. On the way home she just quietly says, “Thanks for picking me.” But you can tell it meant a lot.

✦ Valentina Allegra de Fontaine ✦

"why would I wanna go to that"

Simply doesn't attend.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Hope you guys liked this one!! My requests are always open<33

Is it obvious that I hate Valentina

[chefmikewrites]

DONT ASK ME ABOUT MY CHAPBOOK

writing is so funny because i could write nonstop for 9hrs and then hit a block where im like "how do i transition between this moment and the next?" and then i just dont touch it for 6 months

[cheeseceli]

You deserve to be loved

heads up: family issues, reader is insulted (not by San)

San never raises his voice at you

He'd rather lose his voice altogether than screaming at you. He'd rather lose the argument itself and, damn, that's a lot coming from him. It doesn't matter if he is obviously right, if the world has been trying his patience lately or if it's hurting his pride.

He will never raise his voice at you.

You have told him how your family treated you before. You didn't seem bitter about that, you barely seemed to notice the effects it had on you. But he's seen your family.

He has heard the way they scream at the minor inconvenience and how they always take it all on you. How they constantly seem to call you names just because they can. Stupid, slow, ugly, slut, undeserving. And they'd always laugh it off.

You hadn't noticed this isn't normal yet. You loved your family and they claimed to love you too. Maybe this is just how people work? Maybe they just struggle a little bit with affection, maybe they are just playing around, maybe you're the one who's too sensitive.

But San has seen it. The way you look up so you don't cry. The way you flinch when someone gets too close too fast. The way you don't give yourself the credit you deserved just because their words made roots in your being.

Well, he decided that he was not going to be like that. You chose him out of all people to be with you. You chose him to be with you for the rest of your life. He wanted to be your family from now on, and for that he would not be like your family until now.

He never screamed at you. He was never rough. It didn't matter how angry or how impatient he was. Never, in all those years you've known him, had San offended or actually hurt you. Nothing but compliments, praise and kindness left his lips when he was around you.

That's because if no one taught you what love really is supposed to be like, he had no problem showing you the truth.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: hold me

Daily click

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @sheraayasherrecs @queenofdumbfuckery @lezleeferguson-120 @diarylogbook08

Dividers by @saradika-graphics | images 1, 2 and 3

[vasito-de-leche]

;KPOP DEMON HUNTERS ABBY - Relationship Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons about Abby (Abs Saja) in a romantic relationship.

YOUUUU KNOW ITTTTT OF COURSE THIS IS MY BIAAAAAS. I love getting into new things because I have so many ideas so many things to overthink and analyze about new blorbo, ougghhhh

since all the other Saja Boys that aren't Jinu get minimal screentime, it's pretty much free real estate for headcanons. dont look at me, i love making demon guys a little feral, as a treat for us monster freaks

When it comes to the Saja Boys and the concept of dating, I do think that if their idol careers lasted more than two songs released back to back, they would pull off some publicity stunts involving fake dating and so on--think of the Miromabby or Zoeystery shenanigans from the movie. Because of their nature as demons, I can't see them choosing to date someone so casually.

In my previous post with general headcanons for the entire group, I mentioned how the other four aside from Jinu might also have ulterior motives to help him and join the band, which adds to the pile of reasons they wouldn't lead any conventional lives on the surface, let alone find a partner.

But that's not to say that they're entirely closed off to the possibility of dating. There's just a lot to navigate first. Each has their own baggage to deal with.

When it comes to pretending to date someone as a publicity stunt, it's safe to say they're all good at it; it's part of the game, after all. They're very good at pretending to be a Kpop boyband already. But Abby specifically strikes me as one of the very few who might end up reconsidering his feelings on the matter, or at the very least, come to genuinely enjoy the illusion of a relationship. Jinu is too good at playing the game, only to pull the rug from under his partner's feet (RIP Rumi), Romance has (ironically) too many layers and too much baggage involving relationships to truly commit, and then Mystery and Baby are much too distant or guarded to even consider people out of the group.

While Romance and Abby have been shown to have some interest in Mira, I do like to think there is an important difference between the two of them when it comes to love--Romance plays the romantic and heartfelt lovestruck role as his namesake implies, but it is all part of an aesthetic and a fleeting hobby he indulges in. It's all fun and games, simply because he never had the intention of committing in the first place, a fun irony in which the embodiment of romance cannot really find love.

On the other hand, Abby lives by much more simpler rules: if it feels good, why stop or avoid it?

It's easy to portray him as a himbo, or someone who struggles to be taken seriously specifically because of how reductive his role in the boyband may be (only offering good looks and muscles, all brawn and no brain, etc) but I like to overthink things, and instead portray him as someone who is just direct when it comes about the things he wants or likes. While others take extra steps to get what they want, or pull the most insane mental gymnastics to justify their actions, Abby's approach is always the fastest and most straightforward.

Jinu will create a boyband to rival Huntrix and then almost fall in love with their leader only to betray her in the end and get his wish instead of going to therapy, but Abby? If he wanted to get his memories erased, he'd just give himself a concussion every so often or seek a spell that could do that. Easy.

I like to think this also plays into how he became a demon, heeding Gwi-ma's call in those extreme and rare occasions he couldn't just do as he pleased or get his way through sheer determination or perseverance, until it became the norm rather than the exception, and thus his shame is related to that powerlessness and dependence on the power Gwi-ma offers.

But to tie it back to relationships, this is all a lot of text to say that Abby would be the perfect Saja to get into a classic fake dating relationship 130k words slowburn fanfic scenario with, the type in which the lines between fake and real get blurry really fast. His demonic traits or emotional baggage don't keep him from forming meaningful relationships like others, but I do think that decades (maybe even centuries like Jinu) of living as a demon have definitely altered all of the Saja Boys' perception on how to properly interact with others.

When Abby catches feelings, he remains just as flirty, fun, silly and high energy, but there is a wild edge to his words that spells out trouble--not necessarily in any negative way, more so like the feeling of knowing you're being roped into shenanigans that none of your friends would agree with, the promise of fun danger, all while knowing you're in safe hands because the man leading you into the lion's den won't let anything happen to you.

I don't think he puts you in danger on purpose or with malicious intent, that's something Mystery or Baby would do. In Abby's case it's more like he gets caught up on these positive feelings you bring him that he ... forgets he's meant to put up a perfect boyband front. That's it. He gets swept up in the moment so easily, he just forgets he's in the human world.

His smiles are sharper, with pointy fangs you swear you have never seen him have. His hugs are a bit more suffocating, his grip on you when he leads you around town is somewhat erratic and manic, and you swear you can hear a slight distortion in his laugh, as if his voice wasn't human at all. He may forget that you need to sleep and show up at ungodly hours, looking frenzied and excited to take you out for a spin. Contrary to popular belief, no, he does not growl or get into fights with anyone who is remotely interested in you--but he DOES ask you directly if you'd like him to fight whoever tries to hit on you, literally asks if you'd be into that sort of thing of seeing him beat up others for your attention. He can do it. Humans are much more weaker. Just give him the sign. Do you want to see him beat up demons instead? Sure. He can do that too. He will look very good and flex his arms while doing it, just for you.

This is basically Abby in his honeymoon era--a demon trying to remember how to balance demonic instincts and habits built up over centuries against what he vaguely remembers as the conventional way to court someone. If you mix this with the fact that demons like the Saja Boys are basically doomed to relive their worst memories and feelings for all eternity as Gwi-ma's thralls, then you might understand why Abby gets a little too drunk on the butterflies and good feelings you awaken in him.

I think he's also the least troubled by the idea of his crush or partner finding out he's a demon. Surely, if you like hanging out with him, something so small shouldn't be a problem, right? It's not a problem for him, after all. You're absolutely cooked if he finds out you're into the demon aspect, though--Abby will be absolutely shameless, using this to his advantage whenever he wants to convince you indulge him or do whatever he wants. Abby may not have Baby's puppy eyes, but he keeps track of all the things you like about him, just in case.

When it comes to telling you about his past before becoming a demon, there might be some reluctance out of shame. The rest of the Saja Boys are allowed to know since they're all pretty much on the same boat as him, but what about you? What if you decide he's not the one for you based on something that happened so long ago? I can see Abby blurting out the events that led him to become a demon in the heat of the moment, during an argument or something, if only as a way to get you to stop arguing with him.

On a less intense note, I do agree that he's the clingiest Saja Boy, at least physically; Abby has to have a hand on you at all times, no matter how. Either with an arm around you, leaning on your shoulder or just fully leaning his entire weight on you, sliding his hand in the back pocket of your pants while you walk, resting his chin on the top of your head, etc.

This guy does not care about personal space. Or rather, he cares about getting rid of it altogether. Most likely to kabedon you, at first for fun to see your reaction, and once he settles into the relationship as a way to get a moment of your undivided attention whenever he feels like. He makes zero attempts at hiding your relationship once he's caught genuine feelings, and even gloats to his band members about it.

Most likely to make you sit on his lap even if there's other seats available because he thinks it's extremely endearing. Most likely to give you his clothes to wear, except he wears extra small shirts to emphasize his muscles, so he doesn't get to enjoy the view of his partner in an oversized shirt or sweater because he might as well be wearing crop tops at this point. This is easily remedied by just buying an extra large pair, so you can at least have matching outfits.

One thing that will never change regardless of the stage of your relationship with Abby is the insane amount of shirtless selfies he sends you throughout the day. You guys could spend 20 years married and he'd still manage to sneak in a shirtless bathroom selfie.

There's so fucking many. You can't even pull the "When he's copying your snaps so you pull this move" meme because he already sends you dozens of pictures of him flexing his biceps. These range from tasteful shirtless pictures as a "pick me up" for you, to genuine fun selfies of him going about his day but he somehow manages to always have his shirt open, to extreme levels of fuckboy vibes manufactured to deal extra damage to any fans in the vicinity.

I also like the dumb idea that, at some point, you just start playing tic tac toe with his abs whenever you receive a picture of them, and he thinks it's so fucking funny he always plays along. So your camera roll is 50 selfies and 20 versions of the same selfie of his abs because you keep drawing and playing tic tac toe on them with him. While others think his focus on his looks might be an indicator of low self-esteem or compensation for any other insecurities, Abby is actually rather confident. He thinks it's hilarious if you draw funny smiley faces on any pictures of his abs, or joke about how conceited he seem to be.

Another fun headcanon I have is that he's the lead dancer, and thus tries to get you to dance some of the Saja Boys choreographies from time to time, since he came up with them himself. The fans love to see these videos of you two practicing Soda Pop and trying to mess each other's rhythm up for fun.

[cheerfulmelancholies]

Y'know what would be cool? A digital recorder thing that records your thoughts as you're imagining random wips and scenes in your head before sleep. Because the "I'll remember it when I wake up" part never seems to actually happen.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Obsidian [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds (The Void) x reader

wc: 3k

summary: Bob loves you, but he’s trapped by his own fears and silence. Void, the shadow of his pain, confronts you with the burden he carries—leaving you scared and unsure of what comes next.

warnings: complex emotional themes, mental health struggles, ambiguous supernatural presence, mentions of intense psychological tension, choking (not in the good way, lol) mild language, no explicit violence or sexual content.

masterlist part 1 part 3

Wait for a part three (and final) titled "cobalt" soon with the resolution of this focusing on Bob!

Several days had passed since that night with Sentry, but the memory of it had not faded.

Sometimes it returned in the form of a fleeting image: the liquid gold of his eyes, the contained weight of his gaze, the impossible calm he'd brought with him. Other times, it returned as an awkward silence between Bob and you. One neither of you could name, but one that felt more present than any conversation.

You hadn't mentioned anything to him and had tried, as best you could, to maintain a normal demeanor around Bob. The conversation with his alter ego wasn't something he was aware of, so bringing up the fact that he was in love with you would have felt strange and invasive. Of course, as the days went by, you began to notice tiny actions that hid in the everyday and revealed the feeling.

Sentry wasn't lying when he told you Bob was watching you all the time. Not in a stalker way, of course, but the truth is you'd caught him staring at you more than once when he thought you were distracted.

At times, it even seemed like he avoided you. You thought maybe he didn't know how to handle his affection, which was why he preferred to stay quiet and distant. But little by little, you gained ground. After discovering that he seemed more shy in groups, the times you approached him were often alone, usually to talk about trivial matters.

Some days, you were kind enough to leave a treat in the cupboard for when he had a sweet tooth. You made his tea, shared your meal, or helped him with chores.

However, his signals were too confusing. One day he was laughing with you, chatting like never before, his eyes shining with joy. The next, he barely said hello to you in the morning, spending all day in his room, and his glances seemed to carry reproach rather than tenderness. You couldn't tell what was going on in his head, or why his ambivalent behavior toward you, but you were trying your best. To be patient. To wait for him to be ready, as the golden boy had said.

On one of those afternoons, you didn't expect anything to be different. You were sitting on the floor, one leg tucked under you and the other stretched out, while you idly flipped through a report you'd found on the table.

Bucky was on the couch, lying sideways, one leg dangling over the edge. He held a steaming mug and spoke leisurely, with the raspy voice of someone who'd spent the day giving orders.

“…and when we opened the door, the guy was eating cereal. With a half-assembled rocket launcher on the table. As if that were the most normal thing in the world.”

“Cereal?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Cereal. With banana. And without milk.”

“That’s his real crime.”

“The real crime was him pointing the spoon at me like it was a gun.”

Your laugh was instant, clean, so natural that John—who had just walked in with a bottle of water and a towel over his shoulders—stopped for a second to listen.

“What are you two laughing about?”

“Bucky tells me about a weird guy with a rocket launcher and…”

“Cereal,” John finished, tossing the towel over a chair.

“You were with him, weren’t you?”

The soldier nodded.

“Bucky froze when he saw it. I thought the guy had brained him out.”

“I was just processing the scene,” Bucky defended himself, smiling. “Sometimes it’s harder when there’s no blood. It confuses me.”

“And what did you do?” you asked John.

“I took the spoon away. I offered him oatmeal. And I handcuffed him.”

You laughed again, louder now. You leaned your forehead against your bent knee, still laughing, and when you looked up, Bucky was already staring at you. Not in a stuffy, awkward way. Just… attentive. As if watching your laughter was something worth memorizing.

“You should let me go with you sometime,” you said. “Sounds like fun.”

“You wouldn’t survive,” John murmured, with a half smile.

“Oh yeah? Why?”

“Because you'd befriend the cereal guy before we could arrest him.”

“Don’t underestimate her,” Bucky added. “She has that look that says, ‘I’m listening to you, but I’m really analyzing your weaknesses.’”

“What I have is a good memory,” you replied in a mocking tone, “And a high threshold for human stupidity.”

John laughed and plopped down on the couch next to you. He offered you the bottle, which you accepted without hesitation. Bucky gave you a knowing look.

“You see? That’s why we want you around. You have a tactical spirit.”

“And because you're small. Everyone makes the mistake of dismissing you as a threat,” John added.

“That’s true,” you said, raising the bottle in a toast. “My real secret weapon.”

Bucky chuckled softly, more to himself. Then, in a quieter tone, not intending to be overheard by everyone, he said:

“It’s weird talking to you. I don’t usually laugh like this with anyone.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, smiling softly.

“You should do it more often. Even if it’s not with me.”

He looked down for a second, almost blushing.

And across the room, Bob turned the page. Again. Without having read the previous one.

He didn't look directly at you or participate in the conversation, but he felt everything. The natural flow of your laughter with them. The ease with which Bucky made you let your guard down. The way John touched your arm to emphasize a joke.

He wanted to get closer, but the more he thought about the idea, the more absurd it seemed. It wasn't that any of the three of you were doing anything wrong, it was just... you being yourselves. You could speak calmly, fluently, as if you didn't even have to think about what you were saying. Bucky was a more than experienced super soldier. Walker was another super soldier, although younger, a little more charismatic than his partner. And you seemed happy listening to them. Admiring them.

After a while, you noticed Bob get up from his seat, put his book on the table, and walk toward the hallway. You thought it was strange.

You would have liked to follow him, even without knowing the reasons for his departure, but you thought maybe he wanted to be alone. You never suspected anything had bothered him. There was no reason to think so.

When night fell, things got complicated.

Lying in your bed, you felt restless. At first, it was mild, as if the air in your room had thickened. You'd tried to distract yourself by reading, scrolling through something on your phone, or simply wasting time between empty notifications, but you couldn't focus. You felt a subtle buzzing, like static electricity seeping into the edges of your thoughts. The room was silent, and yet, something vibrated in the air as if you weren't alone.

You convinced yourself it was exhaustion. You tried to sleep, but when you couldn't, you resorted to some insomnia pills that had been forgotten in a drawer on your counter. It took you almost an hour to fall asleep.

It was in the middle of the night that you felt an abrupt change in the atmosphere. You woke up without warning, your chest tight with a surge of fear. Then you saw it.

It wasn't an apparition, nor a clear voice. It was a presence. Cold, like a shadow creeping under a door. Like an absence so absolute it ended up being more tangible than any body. You didn't know if you had closed your eyes for a moment or if the room had darkened on its own, but something in you recognized the energy before your mind could name it.

The room had no open doors, but it didn't matter. Because Void didn't just walk in. He flooded in. Sneaking into your room the same way he did into your mind: stealthily, without asking any kind of permission.

“Who’s there?” you stammered.

The question was awkward. You already knew the answer.

“You still pretend not to know.”

The voice sounded deep, not guttural or monstrous… but soft, too soft. Like torn silk.

“You’re not here,” you whispered. “I must be dreaming. You… can’t.”

“But here I am.” A pause. Then, more slowly: “Like all the thoughts he tries to bury.”

You felt it then. The oppression. The way the air seemed to lean in one direction, as if something invisible was breathing with you. Your skin prickled.

"What do you want?"

“Nothing. Why do you always think I come here for something?” A shadow darker than darkness itself moved across the wall, as if testing the limits of space. “I just came to see you. To understand what’s so special about the thing that keeps me contained.”

“Bob…”

“No. I’m not Bob. He has nothing to do with this.”

For a moment, the shadow moved closer to the edge of the bed, as if it could materialize, but still refused to take shape. You breathed heavily.

"He's sick with you."

"Don't say that."

“Why not? Because it makes it sound… twisted? Like loving you hurts him.” He laughed. It was a hollow sound. “Well, yes. It does.”

You stood there silently, unsure whether to move, whether to speak. Void continued.

“He looks at you as if you were an unattainable promise. As if simply getting close to you is a betrayal of what he believes you deserve. And yet… he can't help it.”

“I’ve never asked him for anything,” you replied. “I don’t… I’m not doing it to hurt him.”

“I know. That’s why it hurts more.”

You felt the mattress give way. Not because of the weight of anything corporeal, but because of the way the darkness seemed to thicken. As if a faceless presence were sitting next to you.

“I saw you laugh today. With them.”

He didn't say their names. He didn't have to. That's when Bob's withdrawal made sense in your head.

“So easy, so comfortable. Dazzled. As if you were part of their world. As if they understood you.”

“They are my friends.”

"Of course."

The sarcasm was palpable.

A shudder ran through you as you felt him closer. Not physically, but… emotionally. Breaking through an invisible barrier you didn't even know you had.

“He loves you, you know?”

“You shouldn’t say that.”

“And why not? Because I'm not him, right? Because you're uncomfortable with the truth coming from a monster.”

A silence.

“Do you think he’s the only victim in all of this? No. He represses. He holds back. He keeps quiet. But all of it… everything he can’t tell you, everything he won’t allow himself to feel, he throws at me. Every thought that shames him, every desire that makes him hate himself, every image of you in his head that he can’t shake off—I carry it.”

Suddenly, you heard his low voice, even closer. That calmness in his speech hurt more than a scream.

"And you know what the worst part is? He does it without guilt. As if I don't feel anything. As if I'm just a pit to dump everything that breaks him. All the shit he can't deal with."

You swore you felt his gaze. But not like Bob's. Never like Bob's.

“I hear everything. I feel everything. He just looks down. But inside, he's screaming. And those screams, he leaves them for me. While he smiles at you, he vomits his guilt at me.”

There's a pause, as if measuring how much more he can let go without breaking.

“Every time he tells himself he doesn't have the right to touch you. Every time he imagines what it would be like to touch you, to kiss you, to have you... and then hates himself for wanting it. Every time he punishes himself for feeling what he feels. He throws it at me. He forces it on me.”

A shadow slid up your arm. You didn't feel a hand, but you did feel a slight chill, as if something were barely gliding over your skin. It wasn't lascivious. It was… analytical.

“And having you here, in front of me, I see you so soft… so alive.”

A shiver ran through your entire body.

“You can’t touch me”

“What if I don’t want to touch you?” his raspy voice spoke. “What if I just want to understand why he thinks he can’t have you?”

You turned toward the void. There was no face. But you felt it as close as if it were breathing on you.

“Why are you angry?”

“Because I exist for him. Because he breaks himself in two so he doesn't love you too much… and yet he loves you more than he can bear.”

A long, uncomfortable silence.

“And you don’t do anything. You just smile. You speak softly to him. As if it doesn’t hurt. As if he could stand it.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

You were sincere. First, Sentry came to tell you to love him back, and now Void came, scolding you that any attempt to do so was only hurting Bob.

“Maybe nothing. But what if I told you that every time you talk to him, you make me stronger?”

His words slid like blades wrapped in velvet.

“Because you can’t love a man who hates himself.”

And then you felt it. The shadows rose. Like invisible fingers, like branches of smoke that lightly tangled around your arms, your waist, your hips. He was touching you—if you could even call it that—in the way only a lover is allowed to. You couldn't pull away; you didn't know if it was out of fear or because, in some sick way, his caresses were enjoyable.

An inexplicable force compelled you to lie back on the mattress so he could continue exploring you. You felt those fingers—cold and sharp—ride over the soft flesh of your breasts, covered by your pajama top. It wasn't a gentle touch. It was a strong, hard… possessive one.

You held back a moan, one that would have revealed both pleasure and fear, as you felt his presence near your warm core; he spread your legs wildly, gripping your thighs just enough to tease, but not satisfy.

“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this? Not the pleasure. The stillness. The silence of your body breathing next to his. And knowing it won’t be real is what shapes me.”

There was silence. Then you felt as if he were breathing against your lips.

“He likes you,” the raspy, thick voice made you shiver. “But I need you.”

You were unable to say anything. His hands, still planted firmly on your body, began tracing the curves of your sides up your chest. They ended at your neck. They didn't hurt at first. But they chilled you. And then... they began to squeeze.

"What are you doing?"

Your question went unanswered. A second later, you began to breathe heavily. His presence surrounded you. The invisible hands weren't physical, but they choked you just the same. Not out of force. Out of guilt.

Desperate, you raised both hands to try to free yourself from his grasp, but it was useless. It wasn't something you could touch; it was beyond the tangible. The pressure seemed to come from within, as if your throat were closing on its own.

"Stop…"

“Are you scared now?” his voice softened, as if he truly regretted something. The lack of air made you close your eyes. “It’s not you I want to suffocate. It’s hunger. It’s myself.”

He confessed in your ear. You wanted to ask him to stop, but there wasn't enough air left to form a sentence.

“But you are so close…”

The whisper dissolved into the air like smoke, and then the silence became absolute. Not the silence of a still room, but the silence of an abyss containing all the unspoken things.

The shadows did not retreat.

The cold wasn't just on the surface anymore: it was inside you, spreading through your ribs like a dark tide that was slowly draining you. It wasn't painful. It was worse. It was the sensation of being sucked in.

There was no face. There was no breath. But you could feel his desperation enveloping everything.

The pressure on your throat fluctuated. It wasn't constant, as if he were hesitating. As if every attempt to pull away from you only dragged him deeper into his need to have you near.

Your numb fingers tried to find something to hold on to. A corner of the mattress, the seam of the sheet, anything. But there was no anchor possible when emptiness was what sustained you.

Soon the suffocation, though not complete, became constant. Air came in drips and drips. Your body began to give in to fatigue. And you couldn't even process the situation enough to feel afraid of dying.

It was right there, at that edge, that you felt him stop. The shadows flickered. As if on that last line, where only surrender or destruction remained, he didn't know which to choose.

Then he let you go.

Your breathing returned suddenly, raspy, clumsy, wet with tears you didn't remember shedding. Your hands trembled. And he was still there. Not moving.

The shadow seemed hunched. Surrendered. You might even say resigned.

“He’ll wake up again without knowing I was here,” you suddenly heard. It had become just the echo of a voice in the room again. “But you… you won’t forget.”

He stood there for a few more seconds, wavering, suspended between shadow and reality. Then he began to fade away little by little, like smoke carried by an invisible breeze. The cold in the room gradually dissipated, but the emptiness it left behind continued to throb in your chest, deeper than any visible wound.

You were left alone, trembling, tears streaming uncontrollably down your cheeks. Fear tangled with worry, and although silence returned, his presence continued to pierce your mind.

You didn't know what would happen to Bob, or what part of him had been trapped in that darkness that now seemed to have visited you. But you did know that, for the first time, you felt more lost than ever.

taglist: @littlemsbumblebee @qardasngan @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @calzone-d @jessyimpala @p34ch-tr33 @meiluu

[diekleinesuesse]

ATEEZ & Their Significant Other Who Struggles to Express Emotions

Hongjoong – The Leader Who Notices Everything

Hongjoong has always been someone who appreciates unspoken love. He’s perceptive and sensitive, so he quickly catches on to the way his significant other struggles with words. At first, he worries does this mean they don’t feel as deeply as he does? But then he notices the way they always make sure his workspace is tidy when he’s too overwhelmed to clean, how they leave his favorite snacks on his desk when he’s working late, how they sit beside him in silence when he’s exhausted. He realizes that love doesn’t have to be loud.

One day, after an especially hard week, Hongjoong finds a small note on his desk. It’s short just a simple, “I’m proud of you. You’re doing so well.” But it makes his heart squeeze in his chest , and for a moment, he just stares at the note, running his fingers over the ink as if to make sure it’s real. His significant other has never been good at saying how they feel, but this… this means everything.

When he turns around, they’re standing in the doorway, shifting nervously. He can see it took a lot for them to write that, to leave it for him. He doesn’t say anything at first he just crosses the room and pulls them into his arms, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of their head.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against their hair, voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

They don’t answer, just wrap their arms around him a little tighter. But they don’t have to say anything Hongjoong already knows.

Seonghwa – The Gentle Protector

Seonghwa is patient. He doesn’t rush his significant other to say things they’re not comfortable with. Instead, he learns their language the way they press extra slices of fruit into his hands when he’s busy, the way they straighten the collar of his shirt before he leaves, the way they rest their head on his shoulder when words fail them.

One night, after a particularly stressful day, Seonghwa finds himself exhausted, drained from everything. His significant other doesn’t ask what’s wrong. They don’t push him to talk. Instead, they simply take his hand and lead him to the couch, gently tugging him down until his head is resting in their lap.

Their fingers card through his hair in slow, soothing strokes, and he feels himself relax under their touch. It’s such a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes.

“You always take care of me,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. “Let me take care of you too.”

For a while, there’s only silence. But then, softly, almost hesitantly, they whisper, “I like taking care of you.”

It’s rare for them to say things like this, and Seonghwa treasures every word. He turns his head just enough to press a kiss against their wrist, heart swelling with warmth. “And I like you,” he says, voice full of affection.

They don’t say anything more, but the way their fingers tighten ever so slightly in his hair is all the answer he needs.

Yunho – The Sunshine Who Loves Freely

Yunho is naturally expressive. He’s affectionate, always ready with a hug or a bright smile, so at first, he worries about the way his significant other holds back. He wonders if they feel uncomfortable, if they need space. But then he starts noticing the little things how they always save the last bite of their favorite snack for him, how they lean into him just the slightest bit when they think he won’t notice, how their fingers brush against his hand before quickly pulling away, as if they’re testing the waters.

So he waits. He never forces them to say things they’re not ready to say. Instead, he keeps loving them in the way he knows how openly, freely, without expectation.

And then one day, when he’s rambling about his day with his usual enthusiasm, he feels their hand slip into his. Their fingers are hesitant, unsure, but they don’t pull away. Yunho stops mid-sentence, blinking down at their joined hands before looking up at them.

Their gaze is fixed on the floor, their face slightly pink, but their grip tightens just a little. “I like listening to you talk,” they mumble, barely audible.

For a moment, Yunho just stares. And then he beams, squeezing their hand gently. “Then I’ll talk forever if it means you’ll stay with me.”

They huff, rolling their eyes, but there’s a tiny smile on their lips. And to Yunho, that’s more than enough.

Yeosang – The Quiet Observer

Yeosang understands silence better than anyone. He’s not one for big, dramatic declarations himself, so when his significant other struggles with words, he doesn’t mind. He notices the way they show love instead the way they straighten his gaming chair so it’s always comfortable for him, the way they put an extra blanket on his side of the bed when it’s cold, the way they always look at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world, even if they never say it aloud.

But one night, as they’re sitting side by side, their pinkies just barely touching, they suddenly whisper, “You make me feel safe.”

Yeosang turns to them, startled. It’s rare for them to say something like this, to put their feelings into words so directly.

His throat feels tight, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm them, so he simply laces their fingers together, squeezing gently. “You’re safe with me,” he promises, his voice soft but firm.

They don’t respond, but the way they lean into him just a little more tells him everything he needs to know.

San – The Passionate Lover

San is intense when it comes to love. He feels things deeply, expresses them freely, so at first, he doesn’t understand why his significant other holds back. He craves reassurance, affection, words of affirmation, and sometimes, their silence makes him doubt.

But then he starts noticing the little ways they show their love how they always make sure he has a bottle of water before he leaves for practice, how they send him pictures of things that remind them of him, how they instinctively reach for him in their sleep, as if seeking comfort even in unconsciousness.

One evening, as they’re sitting on the balcony, watching the city lights, San sighs. “Sometimes I wish you’d tell me how you feel.” His voice is quiet, unsure.

His significant other doesn’t respond right away. Then, slowly, they reach for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “I don’t know how to say things,” they admit, voice barely above a whisper. “But I feel them. I hope you know that.”

San swallows hard, his grip tightening around theirs. “I do,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to their knuckles. “I really do.”

Mingi – The Gentle Giant

Mingi has a soft heart, and he’s more sensitive than people realize. He craves warmth, reassurance, but he knows his significant other struggles with expressing emotions. So he never pushes. Instead, he watches for the small things the way they always let him rest his head on their lap when he’s tired, the way they text him reminders to eat, the way they laugh just a little louder when he’s the one making jokes.

One night, as they’re cuddled up together, Mingi whispers, “I love you.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, very quietly, they whisper back, “I love you too.”

Mingi freezes. They’ve never said it before. His heart stutters, his throat goes dry, and then suddenly, he’s pulling them into the tightest hug, burying his face in their shoulder.

“You don’t have to say it often,” he mumbles, voice thick. “But when you do, it means everything.”

They don’t answer, just hold him tighter.

Wooyoung – The Affectionate Tease

Wooyoung thrives on affection. He loves touch, loves words, loves anything that makes a relationship feel alive. But he also understands that love looks different for everyone.

So when his significant other struggles to say how they feel, he doesn’t pout (too much). Instead, he watches for the signs the way they always save the best pieces of food for him, the way they sit a little closer than necessary, the way their eyes soften when they look at him.

And then one day, out of nowhere, they whisper, “I missed you today.”

Wooyoung nearly chokes. “Say it again.”

They groan, shoving him playfully, but their ears are red. Wooyoung grins, heart swelling. He’ll treasure this moment forever.

Jongho – The Steady Rock

Jongho is calm and grounded, but he also has a soft spot for sincerity. He isn’t the type to ask for grand romantic gestures, but he values honesty and openness. So at first, when his significant other keeps their feelings tucked away, he finds himself feeling unsure. But over time, he begins to understandlove, for them, is shown in the quiet consistency of care.

They don’t say much, but they always walk beside him in silence when he’s had a long day. They always bring him tea when his throat is sore from practice. They wrap his scarf just a little tighter on colder mornings.

Jongho starts to realize that their silence is full of love it just speaks a different language.

Then one day, as they’re sitting on the couch watching a movie, Jongho feels a hand slip into his. Not just resting holding. Firmly. With intention. When he glances over, they don’t look at him. But their voice, quiet and unsure, floats in the air:

“I don’t always know how to say it… but I think about you all the time.”

Jongho’s heart stutters. He’s quiet for a moment, and then he lifts their hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“I know,” he says. “I feel it, even when you don’t say it.”

He doesn’t need flowery words. That one sentence those few brave, vulnerable words mean more than anything else ever could

[celepeace]

Also in the spirit of "sex is something you're supposed to want and enjoy, not something to endure"- if your partner acts like pleasing you is a chore, or makes you feel like you're being unreasonable for wanting them to consider your feelings and pleasure during the act rather than only theirs, or continues to do things that hurts you/makes you uncomfortable in some way even after you talk to them about it...

You deserve better. Sex is supposed to be a collaborative activity; even if you specifically enjoy one-sided acts, there needs to be communication and explicit consent, free from coercion, about that beforehand. You deserve to have your feelings considered and cared for. Sex is supposed to be fun. To reiterate op, sex is not supposed to be something you tolerate.

As someone who was in a highly abusive relationship for nearly a decade, please, for your own sake, don't sacrifice your wants and needs for another. Happiness and satisfaction is out there and you deserve to find it, whatever form that takes for you.

sex is not supposed to be about what you can tolerate!!!!! sex is supposed to be about what you genuinely want and enjoy!!!!! and if you’re traumatized and/or not straight, believe me, I know it’s not that simple to figure out what it is that you actually want and enjoy.

you’re not a bad person if you do something that you don’t particularly enjoy because, for example, it makes your partner happy, but always remember: you have no obligation to engage in sexual activities that you don’t fully like and enjoy. 

and you don’t ever, ever need to justify that - if your partner has an issue with “It makes me kind of uncomfortable” or “I don’t really like it”, then that person does not deserve a moment of your time, in or outside of the bedroom. you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone; you don’t have to meet anyone’s standards of acceptable vs. unacceptable activity (or lack thereof); you don’t have to force yourself to be comfortable with something because of any perceived political connotations of performing or refusing that act.

saying yes because you feel guilty about saying no is not consent. saying yes because you’re scared of what will happen if you say no is not consent. saying yes because you figure you might as well just endure it is not consent. sex ed on here and elsewhere doesn’t give a single shit about traumatized people and I wish someone had told me all of this a lot sooner. 

[daydreamingtomatos]

[pomegranatears]

Kinda want to cum but also don't want to do it myself😭

[bbyxdarlinnnn]

i’m a lover girl who just happens to be a kinky freak