#but half of it is in a different language

[catscraftsandcommentary]

Source material is comics, which a) there's a lot of them b) a bunch of different people wrote them c) plotlines keep getting rewritten/edited/etc, so as far as I can tell, it's like if you took the top 50 AO3 fics in a given fandom and declared them canon.

That said, here are the major characters in Batman/Bat-family: if anyone who's actually READ the comics wants to correct me, feel free

Bruce Wayne (Batman): a megabillionaire who was orphaned as a child, raised by his parents' butler, and eventually chose to study lots of different fighting techniques so he could fight crime. Usually has A Thing against using guns and killing people. Also has A Thing about bat puns/names and adopting/mentoring every orphan or sad looking child he meets.

Thomas and Martha Wayne: Bruce's parents. They're killed by a mugger in front of Bruce when he's a kid, and after their death, their hometown of Gotham goes through a SERIOUS decline.

Alfred Pennyworth: the Phil Coulson of DCU. Looks like just a mild-mannered British butler...until you threaten his family. Then you realize that he's actually the badass who taught Batman everything he knows. Including high society manners and deflecting unwanted attention. When in doubt? Listen to Alfred.

Richard "Dick" Grayson (1st Robin, Nightwing): the first orphan that Bruce brought home, Dick's parents were circus acrobats. He's the 1st Robin (child sidekick) to Batman, and when he grows up, he moves to Gotham's sister city Bludhaven to rehab that, using the new name Nightwing.

Jason Todd (2nd Robin, Red Hood): an orphan from the streets, he gets adopted while...trying to steal the tires off the Batmobile (Batman's fancy ass car-tank hybrid). I think. Eventually he is captured and killed by the Joker (Batman's most important enemy), but because it's comics, he doesn't stay dead. Afaik, he has an on-again, off-again relationship with the Batfamily after his resurrection.

Tim Drake (3rd Robin, Red Robin): a child prodigy and the son of absent socialite parents, Tim becomes Robin #3 after Jason's death when Tim tells the Batfam that Batman *needs* a Robin.

Damian Wayne (5th Robin): son of Bruce/Batman and Talia al Ghul (daughter of R'as al Ghul, who leads the League of Assassins). He's hidden and raised by his mother to be the heir of both Batman and R'as. He's half spoiled brat, half bloodthirsty child assassin, and all headache.

James Gordon (detective, police commissioner): Batman's ally/contact in Gotham's police department; his daughter Stephanie becomes the first Batgirl

Stephanie Gordon (Batgirl, Oracle): works with Batman as Batgirl, but is eventually shot and paralyzed by the Joker (NOT while working). Went on to become the IT expert (info gathering, hacking, mission coordinating, etc) under the name Oracle. Sometimes dates Dick Grayson and/or recovers from paralysis after surgery.

Cassandra Cain (2nd Batgirl): daughter of two assassins, SEVERELY neglected childhood, she was raised without language and learned to interpret body language as almost a superpower. But she's mute and has very poor social skills. Evetually adopted by Batman as his only daughter.

Stephanie Brown (Spoiler, 4th Robin, Batgirl): daughter of a minor villain, she dons a costume to "spoil" his plots and discovers a taste for heroing. Briefly works as Robin after Tim Drake...gets injured? Dies? Idk.

Lucius Fox: Bruce's master inventor/tech devemoper at Wayne Interprises

Clark Kent (Superman): an alien from the planet Krypton, he's adopted as a baby by Ma and Pa Kent (small town farm couple) and becomes a reporter for the Daily Planet newspaper in Metropolis. He marries Lois Lane (a coworker) and has son Jon (Superboy). He's Batman's ally and a founding member of the Justice League.

Diana of Themyscira (Wonder Woman): princess of the Amazons, she's an ambassador of her people to the wider world and a founding member of the Justice League.

...I relied heavily on wikipedia for this. It seems like everytime I run into a new name, I look up just enough to get a working understanding "who is this, how do they connect," and then I keep reading.

AU where the Justice League forms like usual, except Batman maintained his “totally a myth” status and has in fact been active for years before the JL forms. He’s very cautious about trusting them, but still joins, and the others sort of accepts that as long as they trust that Batman has a really hard time with trust, it will all work out in its own weird way

Then, one day, in the middle of a JL mission, the League gets in a tight spot. Out of nowhere, this blue and black blur swoops in and saves everyone’s ass. Maybe breaking some shackles that were proving very difficult, maybe disarm a bomb that the League was just a hair’s breadth too slow to reach without help, but whatever happens, the shadowy figure pauses just long enough to say, “Hey, Batman, you know you there are these things called cellphones now and you can just call sometimes, it doesn’t have to be this dramatic?” and bounds away after shouting ‘let’s do brunch! Bring your new friends!’

Batman is mortified.

No one lets it go.

The entire rest of the mission, the whole League is asking so many questions. Who was that? Do you know him? How do you know him? What’s going on? I didn’t know there was a vigilante in this area?? They don’t let up until he talks.

“That was Nightwing.” Batman is mumbling. The JL forces him to bring them to the Brunch. Brunch happens to be in a run-down apartment on the edge of a bad neighborhood, at five in the morning, in costume. Nightwing introduces himself as Batman’s lovechild with justice.

“I did not realize Batman had a child,” Martian Manhunter says, calmly enough that no one’s sure if he’s accidentally plucking a really loud thought out of the air or if he’s trying to make a joke.

Nightwing stares for a moment falling over laughing. He doesn’t get up. Batman starts trying to apply anti-Joker venom but Nightwing just kicks him and laughs until he cries. He keeps trying to wipe his eyes and his mask keeps getting in the way, so he asks everyone to leave so he can please get a hold of himself

He is still laughing when they leave. Everyone is confused. Batman is furious.  Nightwing manages to breathe long enough to say, “We’re just so glad you’re socializing now, Batman.”

Superman turns to look at Batman very slowly. “…’we’?”

Keep reading

[leechqnsgirl]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆ cause you're my iron man, and I love you 3000

notes: based off of this ask, this is kinda different from the actual ask I'm sorry 😭

-- you and niki have an argument.

or

-- the one where you both miss each other but don't know how to say it

niki x fem!reader | wc: 2.9k | angst, comfort, idol au | masterlist | warnings: language, crying, kissing, reader's a college student

****

the past two weeks have just been weird.

conversations between the two of you used to come natural.

it was almost like drinking water between the two of you. and its crazy to think of where you two are now.

it's hard to even fit your sleeping schedules today.

he's out all day and you're out for half of it.

the other half you don't get to breathe.

you're putting up with it because you knew this was the cost to be able to graduate with the degree that you want.

he hasn't even been staying many nights at your place anymore. you'd gotten the same text from him every night around seven pm for a week.

-sorry I can't come over tonight, don't wait up for me!

but the second week came and he stopped texting in all.

it stung a bit. because even though that message would bring your mood down. it was still from him. it was something from him.

sometimes you'd text him a good morning, he'd reply hours later with a good night.

it just felt like you were chasing after the shadow of him, you could see him there but he would inevitably be unreachable, and you were beginning to sense your legs giving out.

niki wasn't doing any better than you.

his face was drained of his natural color, he had bags under his eyes from the nights he lied awake in bed, fighting his thoughts.

it was never easy for him to speak on his feelings, never easy to be the first to do something.

his thoughts were eating him alive. no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't reach out first.

he hated how he felt. he hated himself. he hated that he stopped texting you, stopped calling, stopped coming by.

your apartment was a thirty minute drive from his dorm. he doesn't know what's holding him back.

the boys had noticed this change in him, but nobody asked him about it. they knew he'd just brush it off. he'd tell them it's nothing.

so they didn't push. they stayed quiet. despite the soundless whispers they'd share between each other at night about him.

niki knew.

how could he not? he noticed everything.

it wasn't until the end of the two week mark that jake walked up to him.

they finished practice and the plan was to shower then head over to the recording room.

everyone left, and jake was about to follow after but his hand slipped from the handle.

the door shut abruptly, the noise catching niki’s attention, making him turn his head towards the door.

"hyung?" niki called out, jake dropped the bag that was hanging off his shoulder.

he walked over to where niki was sitting against the mirrored walls.

he copied his position, sitting criss-crossed in front of him.

"just," he sighed, "just say it, niki." jake's eyebrows furrowed, "what's going on?"

niki bit his tongue. jake didn't even ask what's wrong. he asked what was going on. and that was enough of a difference to make his eyes sting.

"I'm an asshole." niki whispered. "I-I don't even know what to do to fix what I did." niki felt a hand on his knee. it was warm against his cold skin, even though he was still sweaty from practice.

"I can help, or i'll try to. just tell me."

niki's head finally raised, his red eyes that were heavy from fatigue finally meeting jakes.

"I don't even know how it started. we were fine like three weeks ago. I was holding her before bed, and she'd wake me up. we'd get ready for the day together," he sniffled, "a-and then I just started getting really busy with our comeback and I was canceling a lot on her. and the days I was finally free she'd cancel on me because of finals seasons. it was just back and forth from there." niki rubbed his left eye with his index finger. jake saw that it was wet when he lowered his hand from his face.

"I stopped texting her everyday because I felt embarrassed. I mean, I'm her boyfriend. the whole point of me is to be there for her. she shouldn't even have to call out my name for me to be next to her."

jake let out a quiet breath. niki breathed in a heavy one.

"I really fucked up. and I can't even bring myself to talk to her. every chance that I get to, I just pull back. I don't know whats fucking wrong with me." he let out a sob now, his hands coming up to rest on his head.

jake pulled his hands away from his head, grabbing his shoulders.

"nothing is wrong with you. okay?" niki tilted his head. "you're just going through a bump in the road. a very large bump. but one nonetheless. and you know the thing about bumps?" niki shook his head. "they end. they're there, and they're a pain in the ass but they end."

jake saw the tears in his eyes fall down, his nose red.

"go over to her apartment right now. I'll tell everyone you weren't feeling well. I want you to go over to her empty handed and talk. even if the thought of it is nauseating." niki gulps, but he nods his head.

jake pulled him into his arms, just holding him there. he could feel niki trembling. the poor boy went nearly a month with no touch, no contact.

niki pulled away, looking at jake's face for a few seconds.

"thank you."

--

the drive to your apartment was daunting.

the whole thirty-two minutes he was on the verge of either sobbing or throwing up.

so when he finally parked his car in front of the building, he rubbed a hand over his face and pulled his hoodie over his head.

he made his way up to your room number. a heavy breath made its way out of his body.

he knocked three times then stopped.

looking at his phone, it was 6:13.

he doesn't know if you're home right now. he doesn't even know if you're home.

soon enough, the door swung open.

"riki?"

his heart broke at your voice.

you couldn't believe that he was standing in front of you.

your thoughts were nonstop but your mind was empty.

you thought seeing him would make you sad, upset.

but really, it just made you angry.

you brought him inside. not wanting your nosy neighbors to get an ear of whatever was going to happen.

"what are you doing here." you asked flatly.

you could see his lips turn downwards.

"y/n-" he stopped himself when he saw your face.

you looked so....disappointed, angry, upset, annoyed, and everything in between. the look was enough to make all his emotions resurface.

no words were coming out of his mouth and that somehow worsened it all for him.

"I know you didn't drive all the way here after three weeks to guilt trip me, riki." you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"no.." he mumbled, gazing at the ground.

"god, I'm so sorry. I don't even know how to start." he licked his lips, "I was so-, god, so wrong and selfish and I shouldn't have ghosted you. I'm supposed to be there with you and I failed. I left y-you alone because I was afraid. and you know what? I still am." his voice broke towards the end.

your face softened a bit. just a bit.

"that doesn't make up for any of this, riki." your voice was firm, your hands moved to gesture between you two.

"I know." he sounded so broken, "and it's my fault, I should've talked with you, I shouldn't have kept everything inside." "but you did."

he felt powerless. like no matter what he would say, or do, wouldn't be enough.

"y/n, please. it was so hard, baby. I swear it." he felt a lump form in his throat. "I couldn't sleep well, I didn't wanna eat. I missed you. so much. and it fucking killed me knowing I could have fixed everything earlier. it was just so hard. it felt like the past three weeks, everything bad in my life was piling up. it's been so hard."

he took a step closer to you.

"I love you. I love you. I love you and everything about you. I missed all of you too." his hands balled into fists on his sides, he felt like he had to physically stop himself from touching you. he didn't know if he had your permission just yet.

"I missed how you'd hold me, how you'd wake me up, how it was you I'd come home to." he knew he probably looked and sounded pathetic. but at this point? he didn't care.

when you saw niki cry, that was it for you. you couldn't help but get watery eyes too.

he never cried, not in front of you at least.

its been two years of you two dating and he's never actually cried in front of you.

"riki-" he shook his head. "please don't call me that." his eyes looked at you, they were red, a bit puffy and held such a weight to them.

he always told you how much he hated hearing his full name from you.

"I-I know i shouldn't have done all of this. and i know i keep saying how i shouldnt have or what i should've done but, please. can i get another chance?"

you sighed, the whole facade you were hoping of keeping up came crumbling down.

you couldn't stay mad at him, maybe upset, but not mad. and you didn't want to yell at him.

"okay.." you walked up to right in front of him, not making any contact yet. "but we're still gonna talk later."

he nodded his head, biting on his lower lip.

"it isn't just your fault, its mine a bit too." he shook his head at your words. "n-no, baby. its all me. really."

you brought a hand up to his cheek. you felt your heart break when he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

how did you go nearly a month without this man? and how did he nearly go a month without you?

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his body. his warmth. the way his shoulders shook slightly against yours and the crook of your neck got wet from his face was enough to really break you.

having him in your arms like this, you couldn't deny the fact that you didn't miss him anymore.

niki kept his voice quiet, still muttering a string of "I'm sorry"s into your body.

you brought a hand up to rest on the back of his head, your fingers tangling into his hair as you pulled closer to your body.

"I missed you too, baby. I missed you so much. i'm sorry."

the feeling of your hand in his hair and the emotion he felt from your words calmed him down. shaky breaths leaving him now.

ten minutes, ten solid minutes of the two of you sitting in each other arms passed when you said the first word.

"niki, baby?" you called out softly, you heard him reply with a hum. "let's eat, yeah? I know you're probably hungry." he pulled away from you, but kept a hand on your sleeve. he nodded his head, following you as you walked into your kitchen.

you had some leftover food from yesterday, and so you began heating those up.

the whole time you could feel him watching him. like he wanted to say something but he couldn't bring himself to say it. and whenever your eyes would look at him, his would stray away. gazing at the ground as he played with the drawstrings of his hoodie.

niki doesn't think he's ever felt so welcomely unwelcome.

he knew you were okay with him being there, in your own space, but something was still eating at him, telling him he shouldn't even be allowed to have the luxury of sitting down and eating with you.

he was quiet, standing by the entrance of the kitchen and watching you.

the same kitchen you two would make your morning coffees together and bake silly recipes you found online.

it's crazy how fast things can change.

"riki?" you called out. "yeah?" he looked at you with glossy eyes. "come on, let's go sit."

the first thing he noticed when you two sat at your dinner table was the food.

you'd purposefully given him a much larger portion than your own plate.

he reached over the table for your hands, placing a kiss to both of them.

"thank you." he whispered, holding onto your hands tightly.

the whole dinner was silent, you both finished and brought your dishes to the kitchen. he washed and you dried.

that feeling settled into niki again.

"can I stay over....?" he asked when you two finished cleaning.

did he really think you were going to say no?

"of course you can, you wanna freshen up? I'll just be out here." you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing up and down. he nodded his head, walking away.

niki went into your room, you had a cabinet full of his clothes because of how often he'd stay over.

he picked out some for himself and went into the bathroom.

you still had his toothbrush, his face wash, his shampoo. everything was still there.

maybe he was in his head too much.

twenty minutes passed from then until he came out, he seemed calmer. his face looked like it too.

niki saw you working on the couch, laptop in your lap as you typed away to whatever assignment you were doing.

he took a seat next to you, his leg bouncing as he decided what he should say. or do.

before he even knew it, you were closing your laptop and facing him.

you laid your head on his chest, snuggling into him. niki felt his heartbeat speed up, he was pretty sure you could hear it.

"I'll always love you. no matter what." you reassured, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

his breath hitched, and his cheeks tinted with a light pink. niki was always a bit sensitive there. the lack of physical contact and sensitivity made him catch your kiss off guard.

he cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around your waist.

your face was resting softly, there didn't seem to be any trace of your previous emotions.

your eyes were heavy with sleep, cheeks bare from any makeup, and your lips,

god your lips.

he missed them. he missed how they felt, how warm they were. he missed the feeling of them on his own.

he didn't even realize he had a hand tracing over your face. he pulled his hand back quickly.

he couldn't be the first one to touch you. not after everything. you have to set the boundaries and he'll follow.

"why'd you move your hand?" his eyes widened. "u-um, I didn't know if you'd want me to...um, touch you again." his voice was so small, not even in volume but just in its emotion.

"you really think that I don't want you to? now?" he shrugged his shoulders weakly.

you got up, moving to straddle his lap, placing both your hands on his face.

"baby," you looked into his eyes, gaze never wavering. "i'm your girlfriend, niki. I want you to hold me and touch me." your thumb rubbing circles into his face.

he nodded his head, placing his shaky hands on your waist. he breathed out from his nose, his eyes closing and his head falling onto your shoulder.

"right," he mumbled.

he relaxed himself again, focusing on the way your body felt against his.

he doesnt think he could even express in words how much pain he was in for the past weeks.

hed gotten so used to everything from you.

when he'd get a hug from his members, it didn't feel the same as yours. it didn't hold the same satisfying heaviness as yours did.

he'd never tell you, but over at his dorm you left a hoodie behind.

every night he fall asleep with it, and every morning he'd wake up early enough to hide it before one of the boys saw.

but he didn't know that he did a bad job at that. he didn't know that jungwon was always the one to wake up the earliest and peek into everyone's rooms.

and he didn't know that jungwon had texted you countless times, asking when's the next time you'd come over. just to be completely dodged by your replies.

and you'd never tell him, but he had a cologne of his that he left over at your place once. and you'd spray it on one of your pillows, holding it when you'd fall asleep.

"I'm tired, ki..." you mumbled against him, adjusting your head against his chest.

he bit back a smile, one caused purely because of the cuteness he saw from you.

"let's sleep, then." he said quietly, holding onto you as he laid down on the couch. your body on top of his.

he closed his eyes when he heard your voice again.

"ki?"

"yeah?"

"you'll be here...when I wake up. right?"

he interlocked his hand with yours. squeezing gently.

"yeah. I will." he promised, bringing your hand up as he placed a kiss on it. 

[femininefreyanyctophile]

in germany there was a questionnaire made in the state of north rhine westfalia (our mosg populous) which asked about 5,4 thousand people about their identities and in total 3,5% of participants indentified as trans*male and 2,8% as trans*female, but most of all, 7,1% identified as non-binary, along with 4,8% that identified as non-binary and trans* and 0,2% as inter* and trans*. so in total, there were not only 25% more trans*men participating in the study, but the majority of non cis people are made up by non-binary people with a total of 12,1%. so even in other western countries with a high-esque acceptance of queerness and socially liberal orientations, there are more trans*men than -women and most of all almost half of non-cis people identify as non-binary. i am pretty sure that the majority of trans people being transfeminine is often a sign of a more patriarchal society in which people assigned male are more freely able to choose their genders but people assigned female have a harder time doing so, but thats just a theory of mine. full agree with this post.

(if you are wondering about all the asterisks:

in "woke" german language it has become a symbol for denoting a word that is a combination of 2 genders, as our nouns are all gendered, so as an example worker, "der Arbeiter" (m) and "die Arbeiterin" (f) together make "der/die Arbeiter*in" (meaning both without having to say "der Arbeiter oder die Arbeiterin" (the worker (m) and the worker (f)). From that a general form of using asterisks to imply words that can be interpreted in different ways, and the asterisk has become a kind of an inclusion marker. in the case of trans*, this means that it can be interpreted to mean trans, transgender aswell as transsexual or other labels meaning the same. i chose to translate the words like this directly to keep the original meaning more clear.)

tumblr is so america centric its crazy. shut up about "trans men dont have struggles because people ignore them". just admit you live in a place where theres not many out trans men and mascs, especially in conservative areas. consider that those trans men and mascs might be trapped in the mormon church which is famously misogynistic. you live in hell with no guaranteed abortion access and a dictator, perhaps youd understand transmasculine theory if they werent forced to be house wives because of the extremist christian cults the rest of us are horrified by. i go outside and theres visibly trans people everywhere. is there really a lack of or ignorance of any group of trans people? or are they being sent to conversion therapy?

[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

[inlovewithladies]

Bimbo abby anderson headcanons

@r3starttt gave me the idea and if u see this ilysm THANK YOU if this is cringe im sorry :p

GENERAL

definately popular coz her dads a pretty well known surgeon (with well known surgeon money)

keeps her natural haircolor but has bleach blonde highlights

FAKE TRAMP STAMP coz her dad would kill her if she got a real one

started going to the gym out of boredom and to hang out with manny but ended up really liking it and boom shes buff as shit

uses way too much body spray like if shes walking by and you catch a whiff your gonna be coughing up pure vanilla for the next ten minutes

hates science, loves sports, settles for kinesiology

i know for a fact shes on the volleyball or wrestling team

i feel like shed love jeans with designs on the booty like apple bottoms

keeps her nails relatively short and paints them often, she likes trying out different colors

comically large waterbottle for practice

probably had an astrology phase but left coz she couldnt get anything correct

'oh i cant rlly hang tonight cause uh.. mercury's in gatorade. or something'

will enthusiastically carry 12 bags of groceries for manny's old dad. or any older person IN A RELATIONSHIP

totally clingy, like 27 texts before lunch.

texts grammatically correct but with bountiful emojis.

"miss you lots, baby 💔" if you cant see eachother

despite her muscular frame shed love to be the small spoon, makes her feel safe

needs reassurance a lot. especially if you have been busy

"you still love me, right babe?"

love languages are gift giving and physical touch

loves to flex her muscularity on you. literally flexing unnecessarily, picking you up, whatever makes you flustered

i feel like shed be a sucker for matching outfits or like couple co-ords

cries when shes angry so if ur arguing youll catch her wiping at her eyes while yelling at you or while your yelling at her.

when you try to apologise after an argument she'll act like shes not accepting it for a solid five minutes before giving in

but if shes the one who needs to apologise shed wait for a few hours to a day before climbing into bed with you, laying her head on your chest and mumbling a soft "m' sorry" before threading your fingers together

will ask for your opinion on what lipstick she should wear only to pick her usual one

probably made you one of those lipstick kiss collared shirts after seeing it on tiktok

you have matching half heart necklaces idgaf

NSFW

almost always comes back from the gym horny. all sweaty and flushed, she'll throw down her bag and ask to ride you cause 'her legs got a good pump'

moans like a fucking pornstar. youve had some problems with the neighbors but she physically cant quiet down

when shes eating you out she likes to play super dumb, teasing you when you tell her to focus on your clit.

"you want me to lick your clit? well wheres that??" she'll keep teasing till you pull her hair and shove her head onto it

either a top or a dominant bottom, if shes tired and lets you use the strap on her, she's having you do it on her terms

loves praise tho

"hows my pussy feel hmm? say im your good girl- cmon"

coaxes praises out of you between moans and mewls

likes to scissor while you both have ur panties on as foreplay

absolutely hates realistic straps, give my girl a pink or purple dick and shes happy

owns a double dildo

she loves mirror sex, whether shes watching you or herself shes super into it.

like she'll have a full body mirror in front of the bed while you eat her out from behind

BOUNTIFUL NUDES

you recieve a photo of her small tits bare except for the X shaped pasties obscuring her nipples during a lecture

insanely skilled with her tongue when she isnt teasing you, little flutters on your clit while two thick fingers pump inside your wet cunt.

moans into your pussy like shes about to reach her climax, this only serves as a vibrator and makes you cum faster

the tiniest degradation kink. like if your 'topping' and shes kinda fucked out.

"dumb girls like you are only good for fucking, right? say it" she'll nod, her eyes already rolled to the back of her head. "mmh! y-yea, thats m..me!"

AFTERCARE

shes so giggly after sex

"you good? yeah me too. lets take a selfie!"

if it was super messy she'll let you get up and take a shower with you. but usually if you try to get up she genuinely will not let you, pressing her whole bodyweight onto you

has snacks in her bedside drawer specifically for this.

falls asleep soundly pressed into your chest, pressing a little kiss to your collarbone with a little "i love you" before drifting off into a peaceful slumber

[mareastrorum]

This is only half a thought so far, but maybe other people want to chime in.

I’m doing Watch Machina (currently at episode 15) and Nein Again (currently at episode 21) while I also keep up with current Critical Role content (Age of Umbra episode 4) and something that bothers me a little is Matt’s current method of narration.

In C1, Matt’s style is very informal with regard to the narration. There’s little added drama via his tone, pace, or choice of words. “Toothy maw” became a meme pretty quickly, but the point of every description was to efficiently set the scene so the players could start their RP and choose what to do. There wasn’t as much precision with his descriptions, and of course that is a talent that takes a long time to hone when you’re describing lots of different things over the course of several hours. However, the narration was far less formal and calculated than his NPC dialogue, so (in combination with voice acting) it was very easy to determine when Matt was in character or not. It wasn’t a bad thing; Matt’s very casual narration and formal dialogue leading up to the Chroma Conclave’s attack on Emon was excellent because it was so sudden, leading the players and the audience to experience the exact same shock the NPCs would have. It’s not a bad way to narrate. If anything, it made the heartfelt moments so poignant, especially at the end of the campaign. That description of snow drops would not have been nearly as impactful if Matt had narrated that way all the time.

In C2, Matt started getting more descriptive and slowed down his narration to match. As Aabria would put it, he “paints a word picture” and includes more environmental storytelling for the setting itself, not just things for the characters to expressly interact with. I think this is part of what led to the Nein interacting with the set dressing more: Matt mentioned it, so it must be important! This led to some fun hijinks as time went on, and it gave Wildemount a different feeling than Tal’dorei. I couldn’t tell you that Emon had a particular vibe to it other than it being a big city, but howdy do we know that Berleben is full of nosy, bored people in a smelly swamp, and we sure know that Zadash is a bustling city with stark class segregation while Nicodranas is a beautiful trade hub with a mixture of different cultures. I think part of that may have come from working on the source books (they have similar language for the plot hooks and location entries). However, that method of narration was mostly limited to first descriptions of a new place or events (“cutscenes” like the attack in Zadash). Within a scene, Matt was still fairly casual in his discussions with the players.

But currently in Age of Umbra, and with a good chunk of C3, Matt’s narration is far more deliberate. There is a consistently slower pace compared to earlier campaigns, usually only speeding up in combat. Part of that may be for production purposes (easier for transcriptions and closed captioning), but it also impacts the pacing of the game itself. There’s also that presence of a new character: the narrator himself has a voice, and that is now part of the story. It’s extremely noticeable when the cast gets Matt to “break character” as the narrator to only be a DM. It requires a baseline level of formality for that to happen, and Matt committed to it in nearly every scene, regardless of the context of the scene. While that doesn’t feel all that strange for Age of Umbra (it fits well with the soulsborne style of game), it does make me realize that it’s part of why C3 felt incongruous. Like, sorry about the dead horse, but I was expecting C3 to be pulpy, which very much benefits from the narration style of C1 rather than the formal narration style Matt prefers currently. Punchy, informal narration sets a player expectation of “you’re here to get something done and I’ll tell you if it works,” while the current style instead lends itself to “you’re part of my story and this is the tone.” The former is great for fast-paced roleplay and the latter is suited to unhurried storytelling—which wouldn’t feel as mismatched if C3 hadn’t been a story where the PCs needed to prevent a second calamity within the course of a few weeks.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that this was a mistake. Matt clearly enjoys how he narrates currently, and every DM is entitled to their preference. However, I think there’s a lesson in here that varying the narration style to match the purpose of the scene and story would benefit the players and the audience.

To be fair here, Matt is not the only DM who doesn’t mix it up very often. Brennan Lee Mulligan (Dimension 20) is far closer to the C1 style of fast, informal narration with very limited, specific instances where he would slow down for drama; there is no “narrator” character in his players’ story. D20 has a far more casual tone to its seasons than CR does in its campaigns. Luis Carazo (Tales Unrolled) narrates similarly to Matt, with a focus on instilling an emotional reaction for the players to deal with, and the players collaboratively join Luis as the narrator for their own characters; it’s a back and forth where the DM and players contribute to that additional presence. Tales Unrolled is on the opposite end of the spectrum from D20, with a clear feeling that it is a storytelling experience.

Again, choosing one narration style over another isn’t necessarily a flaw. However, I think varied narration is a tool that most DMs underutilize. If used carefully, adjusting narration styles within sessions on the fly could enhance the experience of an Actual Play campaign for everyone involved. It could be used as a signal to the players for what type of scene this will be or when a scene is shifting. It could also signal to performers in a show for pacing within an episode (hijinks are over, time for some drama; time to cool down from the tension).

But, as always, it’s easier to point stuff out like this than it is to do it in practice.

[wayeasier]

COUNT TO TWENTY-TWO — part nine

⋆˙⟡ robert (bob) reynolds x reader (thunderbolts*)

summary: New roommate is a new start. But a good one. He's someone who you needed and you're someone who he needed. From one roommate it turns into something else, into five more roommates. But not in your apartment, thankfully. But in a completely different state.

warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, mention of kissing (nothing major), thunderbolts* spoilers (obviously)

author's note: english is not my native language, so i apologize for any grammatical errors / mistakes in my writing (if there are any!)

author's note 2: this was waaaay to domestic that i forgot i was writing about people who literally kill people for their job ... avengers core woohoo!!

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN | PART EIGHT | PART NINE ...

It had been about a month and a half since everything changed. Since your life had been thrown on a different path than you ever thought it would go. Since your name was not just spoken by the ones who experimented on you or who you worked for. Now your name is spoken loudly. Publicly. Printed on newspapers, in small text and also in big text. As a part of them.

As a part of the New Avengers.

Your face had been on screens. You don't even know how they got some of those pictures from when you fought on different missions from ages before. Then came the other images from missions that really no one should’ve had access to. They came from missions that were buried in restricted files, footage no one should’ve had access to. Footage that had cost people their lives too. Grainy stills from missions you were on in different countries all over the world, the ones you did alone, and the ones you did under Valentina's name.

You were already sick of it.

Your name, Twenty-Two, was stretched bold across headlines in nearly every newspaper.

You were a real mystery to sell. They didn't know much about you. It was exactly what they were looking for. A blank canvas to sketch on firstly and then paint in blood. Someone to make up theories and conspiracies for. The world stared at you and wrote about you like you were some kind of a new weapon for the country on display. Not a person. Not a living creature. Just the one to save everyone.

You tried reading the stories and articles at first. Just one, then two, and by the third, you couldn’t do it anymore. You stopped reading the articles completely after the third one. It was all... just too much. The stories were fake, made-up theories on how you and the others got your names to be picked out as members of the new team. Fiction picking up the missing bits. One claiming another theory and the other claiming another. It was all speculations and theories. They wrote about your past like they knew you.

It was tiring.

So tiring.

Every article had a different answer for any question that people asked. And none of them were true.

None of them asked if you had a choice. If you had a choice in saying anything before joining this team. None of them imagined you might have wanted to say no. You couldn't really.

You became the one to save everyone. You were apparently not the one who might need a saving.

That was it. A chaos. It was an absolute chaos.

A loud one.

But the only quiet part was that had Bob had moved into your apartment. It was the safest, quiet part of this whole chaos of the announcement of the New Avengers. It was the total opposite of it. It was a sweet escape from this never-ending nightmare.

He hadn’t brought anything with him. He didn't bring a single thing when he moved in with you. Not even a spare pair of socks, nothing.

He only had the blue crewneck with long sleeves that clung to his frame like a comforter, then those caramel corduroy pants that hung comfortably on his legs, and a pair of old beaten-up Nikes. That was all.

Your apartment was simple and small. It had never been meant for two people, really. When he stepped into your apartment for the first time, it looked like he was almost in an unfamiliar territory where someone would jump at him from any side in a matter of a second. Each of his footsteps were so careful, that it looked like he was almost scared that he's gonna break the floor by just walking on top of it.

Unfortunately, there was no toothbrush in your bathroom for him, just one of yours and one toothpaste. You never needed a second toothbrush, because you never really had someone so close to you that they would need a toothbrush even at your place. Nobody stayed there apart from you. No friends to have their stuff there, no sleepovers organized there, or whatever. It was everything just for one person. Everywhere you looked it was just a singular piece. It was one person's life.

Well, until now.

Just the day after you both arrived at your apartment, you bought him a toothbrush and left it by the sink right next to yours. It was almost laughable how your toothbrush was grey and his was yellow. Matching the colours of your suits from before.

He didn't bring anything with him.

But somehow, he still managed to bring everything.

"Did you get the mail from yesterday?" Bob walked into your kitchen like it was his own palace, his brown curls stubbornly sticking to every side like they refused to be tamed. A few of them were stuck on his forehead from sweat too. He wasn't in a combat suit with the signature blue and gold colours, which he wore as Sentry. He wasn't in hospital clothes what he had back in Utah's vault, he wasn't wearing those clothes from his nightmare either.

He was in something else entirely.

He was wearing a pair of brown or black colored sweats that hung loosely and comfortably. The colour of the sweats changed with each lighting. The color was very unclear even when he had bought them. He just liked the material. On top, he was wearing a shirt, that he had insisted on getting from a second-hand store rather than a normal store in a shopping mall close by. You tried to get him a new, clean shirt from a store, but he insisted so stubbornly that it was better getting it from an old second-hand store that was two streets down from your apartment. It was an old grey faded shirt with some fishing club from Louisiana. It had a cool logo, you could both agree on that. But it was ugly. And it fit him strangely well, almost like it was already his before he bought it.

"I thought you did!" you said to him as you cleaned the dishes you used for breakfast. You turned your head slightly over your shoulder to look at the man in your kitchen and then back to your work in your kitchen sink.

"Well. You always take the mail, so I thought you would take it now too," he muttered from where he was standing in the doorway of your kitchen.

"But it was your mail. You ordered those books," you said softly as you put the last plate on the counter beside you, cleaning the last droplets of water from it with an old and used towel. Your sleeves are pushed up to your elbows so as not to get wet. You were also not wearing the grey tactical suit with your vest and weapons. There wasn't a belt on your waist with many weapons strapped to it, and there wasn't a gun holster on your thigh.

Obviously, you weren't wearing that suit at home. But it was still weird for Bob, he only saw you in your suit, fighting. With blood on your face and palms. He saw you dying too. He hadn't forgotten how he saw you laying on that floor. Otherwise, he'd only really known you like that.

But now you were in your kitchen, sleeves of an old loose white, but now more of an off-white that matched the colour of an old parchment, rolled up at your elbows. A pair of sweats that had paint stains on your knees.

It was all so different. You both were so different from when you were last in New York or Utah. You were both remnants of lives that were made for violence. And yet, here you both were.

“I’ll call them later, so we can pick up the mail back. I don’t understand why they just can't leave it by the door…” you muttered with a long sigh as you wiped your hands on your sweats, the fabric darkening slightly at the knees where it had already been stained with some paint. Then you turned to face Bob.

He was still there in the doorway. He was also barefoot, his feet peeking from underneath the confusingly colored sweats.

“You don’t have to call,” he said, his hand rising up to move a few curls that fell in front of his left eye, “I can go pick it up... If you’re tired or—"

"No, no. You're fine. I can give them a call," you waved your hand at him and leaned your back against the sink, you felt a wet sensation at your lower back at your shirt got a little bit wet from the still-wet edge of the sink.

Bob gave a small nod in response, and for a long moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, staring at each other across the kitchen like you were both lost in thought.

Then you exhaled loudly, almost like it took the whole breath out of you. You dragged both of your hands up to cover your face entirely, "god, I hate this,” you mumbled into your palms, voice muffled, "I don’t do this. This isn’t me.”

You stayed like that for a moment. You felt it. Something warm brushing against your wrist just a few seconds after. It was Bob stepping closer to you, his hand wrapping gently around your wrist as he softly pulled one of your hands away from hiding your face.

“I know,” he said softly with that quiet voice of his, "it's not me either.”

You let him guide your hand down, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, "I haven’t done this in… in so long,” you admitted quietly, your eyes dropping to your hand in his palm, "Bob, this isn’t who I am. I fight. I hurt people. I kill people. I don’t stay in a fucking apartment doing absolutely nothing.”

"You don't order books online," he softly said with a small smile. You chuckled and nodded a few times, "yeah. I don't order books online."

"I don't know how to be... like this," you said, motioning vaguely around with your other hand that he is not holding. It all felt so foreign to you somehow. Even if it was your own life, your own house. It felt like it wasn't your actual life, almost like you took it from someone else.

“We can figure it out,” he said with a shrug of his shoulder, his thumb grazing over the skin of your wrist. You both stood still, both staring into each other's eyes.

Then, so slowly, his head lowered. His lips hovered just above yours, close enough that you felt the warmth of his breath from his nose brush over your own nose. He stayed like that for a few seconds, a moment that stretched the silence like a gum. Then he dipped even lower, a little bit more.

His lips then met yours.

It was not rushed, it wasn't hungry. It was soft. It was still. There was no desperation behind it, no need of moving. Both of your eyes drifted shut at the contact of your two lips meeting. Eyelashes fluttering closed against the skin of your cheeks.

It was just lips against lips. Your lips against his.

His forehead then came to rest gently against yours when both of your lips parted after a moment. Neither of you spoke for a while, there wasn't a need to fill in the gap with words. Silence said everything. He breathed out and it fanned on your nose. As if there was a calling, you both opened your eyes at the same time.

"That was nice," he said softly, his forehead still against yours. The curls softly brushing against your forehead like leaves from a tree.

"Really nice," you said back to him and his forehead pulled off yours. But he didn’t move away completely, his chest was still pressed gently against yours. You didn't even notice but his other hand dropped your wrist and fingers were now just dancing around yours. You both stayed quiet after that, just standing close to each other. You didn’t speak, and neither did he. There was no need. It was quiet.

Until it wasn’t.

A sharp, violent sound that was almost identical to a bomb going off shattered the calm quietness. You both jumped apart, your bodies flinching back from each other as your heads snapped towards where the sound came from. Your hand darted to your thigh before remembering you’re not wearing a gun holster at home.

But it wasn’t a bomb. Not really.

Just an old radio by the kitchen doorway.

The old, nearly non-functioning radio had a bad habit of turning itself on at the worst times ever with a sound you'd never expect a radio to make. It always sounded like it was about to explode. It jumped to life with the sound of an atomic bomb going off in your apartment and then it moved into some radio station that it picked up.

Bob exhales a sharp breath through his nose at the scene, "that's at least the tenth time since I moved in," he muttered staring at the old radio like it was a beast.

You groaned, putting your forehead against his chest, "I hate that thing. I need to throw it out."

“You said that last time,” he replied with a chuckle, “and the time before and before and before..." his voice was soft and teasing.

"It ruined a nice moment!" your lips moved against the fabric of his shirt as you spoke. The words came out muffled, your face still pressed against him, forehead resting on his chest. You listened to the faint music crackling from the old radio.

"Maybe it started a new one," then suddenly, his hands slid to your hips, fingers wrapping gently around them through the fabric of your old loose shirt. Before you could ask what he was doing, his hips began to sway slowly from side to side, pulling you along with him. His hips swaying in a smooth manner as if he had done it many times before.

He was dancing.

You laughed into his shirt at the movement, "what are you doing?” you asked, your voice still muffled but the amusement could be heard even from the other room.

He guided you away from the sink from where you were leaning against it. The both of you stepping carefully around in the small kitchen in your apartment. His movements were slow and exaggerated, hips swaying with a rhythm that you'd never expect him to pull out. It was so unexpected of him. When you lifted your head to look at him, he was already staring down at you with a grin that stretched from one ear to another. Grinning mischievously.

“Bob, what are you doing?” you repeated, this time smiling up at him as you both swayed to the rhythm that was coming from the old radio by the doorway.

“Dancing,” he said simply, his tone innocent, almost confused by the question, his hands softly grabbing at your hips as you both sway. He gave the lightest squeeze as the two of you moved in unison on the floor of your kitchen.

"What even is this song?" you let out another soft, quiet laugh, shaking your head. As you said that, you slid your arms up around his neck, fingers lacing together at the back of his neck. His curls tickling at your fingertips. The two of you stood in the middle of the kitchen, slowly swaying together from side to side.

Bob let out a funny gasp and then chuckled, "you don’t know Elton John?” he asked teasingly. He leaned forward, lips pressing to your temple again, his lips staying there.

"Oh. Of course, I know—" you started to say to him, but he chuckled against your temple and cut you off.

"Really?" he asked with a grin that you felt on your temple, "what's the song then, hm?"

You paused, listening to the song that was softly playing from the old, half-broken radio by the doorway as you both swayed like you were on a dance floor. You frowned and started to say, "okay, I don't really—"

"Harmony," he cut you off as he whispered against your skin, his breath warming the spot on your temple again, "it's one of my favourites, really."

"That's nice to know," you murmured, your fingers grazing a few peeking curls on the nape of his neck, the brown hairs curling around your fingers like little ribbons.

The radio crackled again, switching briefly to a weird buzzing, but loud static noise before settling back into the quieter, soft melody of Elton John's Harmony.

“Remind me to throw away that thing,” you muttered as you looked to your side at the old radio.

Bob laughed softly, his thumb brushing slowly and softly some shapes on your hip, "absolutely not. It’s the reason we’re dancing!"

His hand slipped from your hip to your back slowly, pulling you slightly closer to him, your chest against his comfortably. He then rested his chin against the side of your head, the both of you still swaying to Harmony that was playing from the radio softly. You closed your eyes and let yourself be moved by the gentle sways of your bodies to the melody of one of his favourite songs. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment too. But then they opened, his eyes drifting to something just behind you near the kitchen sink where you were before.

His eyes flickered to the window just above the kitchen sink. His brows furrowed slightly as he looked at the windowsill where there was propped up a small frame. It had a faded dark wood frame and inside it were not photographs, but two small and similar cards. Two cards pressed side by side behind the glass of the small frame.

The first card was his. His card from the attic. The two ghosts sitting next to each other. He remembered it so clearly that he almost thinks that he's making it up. It's the only thing he remembers from when he was stuck with the Void. The attic. When you were both sitting on the worn-out old rug, next to each other with your knees touching and holding hands, just like the ghosts on his card were.

And the second card. The second card was yours. The same, two ghosts were on it again. But this time, they were not sitting. They looked like they were dancing. Their tiny little arms reaching out for each other, like they were dancing together just like the two of you were doing now.

Bob stared at it. His gaze was glued to the small card in the frame. For this entire moment, the soft music fell away from his ears almost like he had gone deaf. Because this moment right now. This was the moment that was on the card. It was like some part of the universe knew that this would happen too. That this would become real. That those two missing ghosts would find each other and dance like they had been looking for each other for their entire lifetime.

As if destiny had already sketched the moment you were living now, long before either of you could even name it. Even imagine it.

It was almost like a destiny for him and you.

Two ghosts dancing.

Just like you two were now.

Bob didn’t speak, he didn’t want to break the comfortable silence between the two of you while you danced to the soft melody of Elton John from the old radio in the kitchen. He just closed his eyes again, his hand gently rubbing your back in smooth manners, his fingertips moving over your back like he was scared to touch you. Ghosting over the curve of your spine.

"Is it bad..." he said, lips brushing against your hairline by your temple, “that this… might be just enough for me right now?”

“No,” you whispered back to him, a small smile coming up onto your lips, "no, it’s not bad at all.”

“I’m glad you found me,” he said simply, his fingers ghosting over your back and slowly moving between your shoulder blades and then back down.

"I didn’t,” you replied softly, still swaying from side to side, "we found each other.”

The radio rattled again with a sudden sound that once again resembled a small explosion. Both of you flinched instinctively at the sudden sound from by the doorway.

You let out a breathy chuckle through your nose, your head falling forward against his chest as your shoulders shook with quiet laughter. Bob laughed too, his shoulders shaking against yours, and he looked sideways at the old thing that turned itself off. The song cutting itself off. There wasn't any other sound coming from the radio, no static or anything. Silence filled the kitchen.

But you didn't stop. You both stayed right there, wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying from side to side. With no music playing.

You sighed softly against him, "I guess that old thing did not like Elton much."

Bob smiled above you, "yeah,” he murmured softly, "but I’m not done dancing yet."

Neither were you. So you kept going. Two ghosts swaying to nothing but the love in the air.

And that's how most of the days went. Just the two of you at home. No missions, no blood or fighting in your spare time. No orders from Valentina. Well, for now. There weren't any plans for the days, there didn't need to be any. You never talked about what was next. You also really did not talk about what Valentina was planning for the future. How the New Avengers would affect you two. How it would affect this peace you have.

About how long this peace would actually last.

You spent your time doing the most random things to fill the in-between time. Even the silence was good. It was comforting.

Sometimes it went differently, though.

"Where were you?" his voice came out just as you unlocked the front door and entered your apartment. He sounded scared, almost hurt.

You closed the door with your foot, the sole of your boot against the door as it clicked shut. The brown paper box cradled in your arms, heavy but manageable.

Bob was standing just a few steps away, in the doorway of your hallway. He was barefoot and his hair was still stubbornly sticking to the sides, his curls on his nape nearly making fun of him as they didn't sit the way he wanted them to.

His eyes are locked onto yours. He looks quite nervous. You blinked at him, confused for a moment, "I just went to pick up the mail,” you said softly, voice slightly breathless from carrying the box. All the way home, even getting up the stairs to your apartment, "they finally returned it. After the fourth call!"

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink, "oh... You didn’t leave a note,” he said, quieter now, almost like he was embarrassed, “I—I woke up and you were just gone.”

You furrowed your brows, stepping further inside and placing the box down gently on the floor beside where his shoes were kicked off by the door, "oh. I must have forgotten."

"I couldn’t find you. You weren’t home. I thought—” his voice cracked just slightly, his steps moving slightly forward towards you but then he stopped like he didn't know if he really wanted to step forward to you.

You blinked at him, your eyes softening, you walked over to him, "Bob…”

“I know it’s stupid,” he muttered quickly, eyes still not meeting yours, rather interested in the brown box on the floor, "I know. It’s just... After everything. I woke up and the place was too quiet and you were just gone. You were not in the bed, nor in the kitchen. You just weren't there. My brain doesn’t immediately go to the thought that you went to get mail. It goes to the worst scenario possible. Every time."

"I saw you die once. You know how that feels?" He lifted his gaze up and met yours. Your chest ached at the way he said it.

"You died that day. If it wasn't for... If it wasn't for...For Voi—for him. You wouldn't be there. You were dead," you swallowed hard at his words, and nodded. You reached forward slowly, placing a gentle hand against his cheek and Bob leaned into it instantly like it was his own place.

"That image just... just doesn't disappear from my mind," he spoke, leaning his cheek gently into your palm, “that image. It is just there. All the time and then I wake up and—” he swallowed hard.

“I just… I can’t lose you again,” he murmured, those blue skies of his that he held in his eyes falling upon yours, "I know you don’t really die. But it still feels like you did since that. Since I saw you die. It destroyed me..."

You leaned forward, letting your hand fall gently from his cheek to over his shoulder and your other one sneaked that way too. You pulled him into a hug, your bodies closing the space between you like two magnets, “I thought you were gone,” he whispered into your hair as he returned the hug, his own arms wrapping around your frame.

“I’m not,” you whispered back softly, your cheek pressed against him, "and I won’t be.”

You were both still learning. To live. To feel. To have someone else. To have someone else who fills that empty space, a void, inside you that needed to be filled ages ago. The missing piece that you were looking for.

That's also how the days went. Just minutes ago, the world had nearly told him that you were gone. But then the bad moment passed like a wave in the sea. The fear was quickly replaced by something else.

The box sat on the counter next to him. Bubble-wrap littering on the floor, the one he said he's gonna clean up after. You were sitting on the counter, your head resting against the wooden cabinet frame behind you. Bob was next to you, his hip leaning against the edge of the sink. Close enough that your knees brushed against his arm every so often when he shifted to unwrap another book of his. He was carefully unwrapping the bubble wrap from each book that he picked up from the box you brought in.

He unwrapped another book, the bubble wrap falling on the floor once again. You watched as he looked at the book, the minimalistic cover catching your attention. Your eyes flickered to the corner of the cover where the title sat in small, black lettering.

“The Creative Act: A Way of Being," you read it out loud. Bob paused, the book still in his hands as you spoke the title. He then looked up at you, his blue eyes meeting yours.

"Yeah..." he said softly and looked back down at the book in his hands. You leaned forward again, your knee grazing against his arm in return.

"It looked... I don't know. I thought it might help or something. I wanted it," he said quietly, looking down at the cover of the book. He looked over at you and then back down.

You hummed and he set the book aside, pulling out another book from the box. Your heart nearly dropped. Your eyes fell upon the name that clutched at something buried deep inside your chest.

Svetoslav Starijski.

You didn't speak, you just looked down at the book in his hands. He didn't say anything either. He just looked at the cover again, then he looked back up at you.

"I remembered our conversation in the attic... When I told you where I found my card," he said softly, his fingers dragging over the letters on the cover of the book, his eyes up on your face, "it was in this book."

You didn't speak, you didn't move.

"It's in Sokovian," he said quietly, his arm brushing against your leg again as he spoke. His eyes flickered back down at the book as you didn't speak at all. He was starting to grow embarrassed. He looked back up at you.

He started talking faster, stumbling over his own words, "I thought you’d like to read it. If you don’t, it’s totally fine... I just—I don’t understand Sokovian, so I thou—”

But you didn’t let him ramble anymore. So, you leaned in. You reached for him by his shoulders and turned him around. His head snapped to yours and you kissed him. His words died in an instant.

Your hand slid to his shoulder to graze the soft edge of his jaw as you pulled him closer. You felt his hand grab at your waist, his finger softly moving over your shirt.

You spoke softly against his lips, "I’m glad you got it. I wanted to read it since you told me about it. He was the only one who showed me kindness back in Sokovia.”

You then pulled away from him, his eyes fluttering back open and so did yours. His hand slipped from your waist and he leaned back against the edge of the sink. He put the book on the small pile of books he had already unwrapped.

"Last one," he reached down for the next book, lifting it from the box where the last books laid. Bob started to chuckle, shaking his head as he held the last book up with a grin spreading on his face, "I have no idea who thought this was a good idea, but it’s definitely... something!"

You leaned over his shoulder, curious at why he's laughing, "what are you laughing at—oh..."

You leaned closer, eyes scanning the front cover of the book. No, it was a magazine. He ordered a magazine. It was a Rolling Stone magazine.

The iconic Queen II album cover was there on the front cover of the magazine. But only, instead of Freddie Mercury and the band, it was your faces.

Yelena stood to your right, Bucky and John on the left, Ava in the back, and Alexei as Freddie, striking that signature pose from the cover.

You laughed harder, your head falling against Bob’s shoulder, "what the fuck is this?” you gasped out in between the chuckles that were leaving your mouth.

"You're a New Avenger and also a rockstar? Oh wow," Bob muttered between his chuckles, staring down at the magazine in his hands.

"I mean, we could use a little less chaos and a little more music," you chuckled against his shoulder, staring at the ridiculous front cover of the magazine in his hands.

And that was the last day you spent together like that.

The magazine sat open on the counter long after the laughter died down. You read a few articles from there but it was too ridiculous to even continue. As you sat close on your bed, talking about so many different topics, a ring of your phone came in.

It was a few minutes past midnight, you were on your bed with Bob sitting against the headboard and you at the end of the bed with one leg hanging off. You weren't sleeping yet, but Bob looked like he was going to fall asleep in a moment, his eyelids fluttering ever so slightly. Eyes heavy.

Nobody ever calls you, and you don't use your phone nearly at all. You don't have any contacts saved apart from a restaurant a few blocks away that you usually order food from. You didn't move to get the ringing phone and just continued talking to nearly half-asleep Bob.

The ringing eased after you didn't pick up. But then it came back again. The ringing didn’t stop. So, you knew something was wrong or someone was desperately trying to get hold of this phone number just past midnight.

You groaned and jumped off the edge of your bed. Just as your feet touched the floor and you turned your back, Bob let his head fall back against the headboard with a very tired sigh, closing his eyes to rest. You crossed your bedroom to the kitchen where the phone sat on the counter nearby.

Unknown Number. The caller ID hidden.

You squinted at it, but answered the very urgent-looking call, "hello?”

“Finally!” the voice belonged unmistakably to Valentina, "I’ve been trying to reach you. Don’t hang up on me.”

"As I said, I’ll be contacting you soon as the tower is reconstructed. It’s time. I expect you in New York this Friday. So, today. Flight is booked. I know where you and Robert are," she spoke smoothly like she was reciting the lines from a book.

You muttered under your breath at her words, "that's kind of weird..."

“You’re an Avenger now. I know everything about you, Twenty-Two,” she purred smoothly into the speaker, "and I know that you’ve been all lovey-dovey with Robert too. I’m not stupid," her voice snapped at you from the smooth manner she used before. You swallowed at that, glancing over your shoulder towards your bedroom door, where Bob was resting against the headboard of your now-shared bed.

“Pack your essentials and your suit too. You’ll be getting a new one, but I need your measurements. Also, don’t forget Robert. He is coming too. I’ll send you details later today. The flight is tonight. Don't forget."

You nodded a few times, but realized she couldn't see you. You swallowed again, "okay..."

"Okay. Bye! Say hello to Robert from me too," she said for the last and the line went dead, a repeating beep sounding out to mark that your call ended.

You dropped the phone back onto the counter where it was before. Watching the phone as the screen dimmed back to darkness after the call ended. You exhaled lowly, still standing in the kitchen like you were preparing for something new. Then, the same way you came in, you went out. Walking back to your bedroom where you were just moments before.

Bob was still there, propped against the headboard, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling steadily. He must have fallen asleep already as you took the short call. But the moment you sat down on the edge of the bed, his body shifted and his eyelids fluttered open. The blue skies met yours as you sat on the edge near his feet.

"Who was that?" he asked, his eyes half-lidded as he spoke out, tiredness lacing his words like a little additional feeling. His curls were slightly flattened on one side from where he was leaning against the headboard.

You turned to face him, “Valentina,” you said irritated.

"She knows where we are. Flight is booked for today and she wants both of us back in New York," you admitted to the curly-headed, tired man in your bed.

He looked at you with that gaze of his that could hold your whole world, "oh… back at the Tower?” he asked, his head tilting and falling against his shoulder.

You nodded at him, looking down at your hands in your lap, "I need to bring my suit and probably other stuff too... She's replacing it.”

Bob slowly sat up, shifting over the covers and over the whole bed to sit at the edge just beside you. His weight was making the mattress dip slightly. His shoulder brushed yours as he settled onto his knees, while your legs hung off the soft edge of your shared bed.

“I’m kind of going to miss… this,” you said eventually after a moment of comfortable silence. You then motioned around the room and then at him. Bob exhaled through his nose and smiled softly at you and leaned closer as if he didn't quite hear you right, "but I’m going with you.”

“I know,” you whispered quietly, "but it’s going to be different. You know that too.”

Just as those words left your lips, you let your head fall gently onto his shoulder, your ear pressing against the top of it. For a moment, you both just stayed just like that. Unmoving.

“Remember when we first met in the vault?” Bob asked quietly. You smiled, eyes fluttering shut, imagining the first interaction you had with the man who was now in your apartment and sitting on your bed. You nodded against his shoulder.

“We were all pointing our guns at you.”

A soft laugh escaped right from his chest and he shook his head at the memory. You felt his shoulder move beneath your cheek as he let the laugh escape him. Then his arm slid across your back, curling so gently around your shoulders. Almost like he was still unsure about making movement around you.

“You were shot in the shoulder,” Bob remembered, “I didn’t even know you then… and yet I was already so interested in you.”

You both stayed like that for a long while. Comfortably curled together, your head gently pressed against the soft fabric of his shirt just over his shoulders while his arm held you from behind. Neither of you said anything else and just sat in a silence that could ease every tremor in your life.

Eventually, you shifted from the sitting position. Bob followed your movements and later you found yourselves just at the correct position on the bed, laying together to fall into your resting for the night.

A flicker of a moment flew by like a small dove and you both had drifted off into a dream somewhere far away in your sleep. Sleeping like you carried the world on your shoulders.

The night went by and you were already awake. Morning came like the blink of an eye.

Bob was still asleep on the other side of the bed when you woke up. His arm hung off the edge of the side of the bed that he was laying on. His lips were slightly parted and his cheek was smushed against the duvet. His curls, stubborn as ever, had fallen across the pillow in a way that looked like they were sketching out some planned painting.

You always woke up first.

So, you started packing. Quietly.

You packed only what Valentina had said. The essentials.

Just your suit, a few sets of clothes that looked fine to wear in the late Avengers' tower, your toothbrush along with a half-empty toothpaste, documents that you were sure Valentina already has copies of without your allowance, a book that Bob bought you, the one in Sokovian by Svetoslav. You paused at that, your thumb brushing over the Sokovian title. Then you added a few more items that you don't want to leave behind. It all fit easily into your old duffel bag. After you put everything inside, there was still space for many more items that you did not even have or plan on taking.

And Bob's looked almost painfully the same.

You had bought that black duffel bag for him a few weeks after he had first moved into your apartment with you. He never owned much, and he didn't bring anything with him.

You folded each of his new clothes, which you had bought together when he moved in, carefully into his duffel bag. That fishing club shirt laid on top of all things, that cool logo with a fish staring up at you from the folded pile of his clothes inside. Then his yellow toothbrush and of course, all the books he ordered. Apart from the Rolling Stone magazine, that won't be going anywhere. That ridiculous cover still haunting your mind.

Everything he owned fit neatly inside that duffel bag.

You placed both of the bags up at the foot door.

And Bob was still asleep, he slept as a log.

The day passed without much to be said about it. Bob finally emerged from the bedroom sometime around noon. He stumbled out of the bedroom like some sort of a hibernating animal being coaxed out of its den after a good sleep. His eyes were still half-lidded, a faint sheet of sweat lingering forehead from underneath his fallen hair. He was warm too. Warmth radiating off him.

His curls were chaos. Literal chaos. They stuck in every direction, others were plastered to his temples like a badly placed wig and others were still stuck to his sweaty forehead. The sleep-warmed Bob shuffled barefoot across the colder floor from the bedroom to the kitchen like he was learning to walk.

You didn’t say anything at first, just gave him a small glance as you stirred the takeout soup you ordered from the single contact that you have saved in your phone. The good restaurant a few blocks away. You had two soup containers. One for him, one for you.

You slid the other one across the counter just as the sleepy man arrived beside you. He blinked down at the soup and then back up at you. He leaned against the counter that you were sitting on top of. Then his eyes flickered next to the soup that you were stirring.

A gun.

His brows lifted up as he took in the object on the kitchen counter. It didn't look threatening. It was just odd seeing a gun on a kitchen countertop.

“Why is there a gun?” he asked, voice hoarse from the sleep. Despite the question he asked, he picked up the spoon and dipped it into the warm container-bowl of soup.

You didn’t even look up from where you were swirling your own spoon slowly in your soup, "I was getting bored,” you replied simply, "so... I cleaned stuff.”

He took another slow sip of soup, "okay,” he mumbled softly, and sipped at the warm soup, "that’s one way to pass the time,” he said quietly into his spoon.

He glanced back down at the gun again, then at the stack of two packed duffel bags by the front door of your apartment. Reality was beginning to settle and it was pulling at his chest.

He finished the soup slowly, in quiet and careful sips. You did the same. Both of you enjoying the warmth of the soup.

“I liked it here,” Bob said suddenly, without looking at you. His eyes on the window above the kitchen sink, "I know it was just temporary... I knew that. But I liked it. I liked waking up in this apartment... with you."

You looked up from your empty container-bowl at him, "I liked seeing you in that ugly fishing shirt,” you said, voice soft with humour lingering at the edge.

"It's not ugly!" he protested, his eyes snapping to yours from the window, "but also... thanks for packing for me,” he added after a moment, "I hope you packed that fishing shirt. I like it."

You glanced at him with a smirk, “don't get used to it, though... And yes, I packed it."

He let out a soft laugh at that. Your phone then buzzed against the counter it was on top of. You looked over at it, already guessing who it was. Or already knowing who it was. That same unknown number. Hidden ID.

You reached for it and opened the message notification. Two files were attached just like Valentina had said. Flight details. You tapped one open but didn’t bother reading through it. You only needed to see the time. It was written in red and underlined in a bigger font than the other text written there.

Nine PM tonight. Just in a few hours.

You turned your head to Bob, “the flight is at nine,” you said to him, dropping the phone back on the counter. The device rattled as it hit the top of the counter.

Bob gave a small nod and in the blink of an eye, he leaned away from the counter and walked straight to the window by the kitchen sink. You watched him reach up to the windowsill and pick up something you had not packed into your bags.

That frame.

With those two cards inside.

With two ghosts.

“This,” Bob said, holding the frame up with a small grin placed on his face, "is coming with us.”

And before you could reply or protest against his words, he was already jogging down the hallway out of the kitchen. His bare feet padded on the floor. He kneeled by the two duffel bags and opened his own. You heard the faint rustle of the zipper being undone again for at least the hundredth time this day.

When Bob returned a few moments later, the frame safely tucked away in his duffel bag that was coming with him to New York, he didn’t say anything at first. You were both quiet for a while, enjoying each other's company like you wanted to savour it this time. Like it may be your last.

When the sun began to slowly set behind its horizon, you knew it was the best time to move. To head to the next chapter.

You were sitting on the edge of your bed, staring absently out of the window to your right. Everything was done. Bags were zipped and in front of the front door, two pairs of shoes by the door waiting for you two. Bob came to stand in the doorway of the bedroom when he noticed the quietness in the apartment. He leaned his shoulder against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, watching you like you were some painting in a museum.

You looked up at him after you noticed the faint shadow on the floor, "do you think it’ll be weird?”

“New York?” he asked softly, still leaning against the doorway.

“No. The Tower..." you replied weakly, looking up to him, "just... I used to work alone. I used to go on missions just by myself and now, suddenly, I'm going to be on a team. And it's just—" you trailed off because you had so much to say that you couldn't spill it out all at once.

"Y-Yeah. It won't be weird. It will be different," he said, leaning himself off the doorway, but still standing there.

"Ah... We should probably get ready," you said, staring at him for a moment before you spoke.

And then a few minutes later you were standing by the door with the duffel bag thrown over your shoulder. Bob was already out, standing like a confused teenager outside. His head was low and his arms were over his chest. You turned the lights in the hallway off behind you and locked the front door with one last single glance over your shoulder to take in the sight of your apartment. Your key turns the lock with a finality.

You read the message from Valentina again. You're glad you did because you'd be spending a good amount of money on a taxi to the airport. You had a drive arranged by her. There was a black car parked just down the street, unmarked but unmistakably meant for you. You didn’t need to tell the driver where you were going. You were driven straight to the airport, right on time.

The flight was quiet just like the drive to the airport was.

You took the spot by the window, the same seat you had on the flight from New York months ago. The flight wasn’t long. It was just around two hours. At first, you stayed awake while Bob drifted off. He leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, lips parted just slightly, but then his head fell once again onto your shoulder.

Then you were the one to let yourself drift off into a dream. Maybe even a nightmare if you could call it that.

You were back in Oregon. You knew that place very well. You remembered it very well. You were peeking around the corner of the building you were in. Quiet and careful like always.

When you turned and they were there. Four of them. Four alerted and armed security guards. They were already on you before you could even process the scene in front of you. A hand closed around your neck and their rifle slammed into your stomach. You gasped out at the pain and hit your elbow into the security guard behind you.

Your vision blurred and your arms burned as you tried to pry off the security guards from behind you. But then you noticed someone in front of you.

John.

You saw the muzzle flash before the sound reached you. A perfect shot. Straight between your eyes. Right into your forehead and then you dropped down.

When it felt like an actual end, the world shifted again. The dream hadn’t finished, but it didn’t need to because you knew well how it ended. It was a memory, not a dream.

You were alive.

When you woke up, Bob was awake now. Staring down at you where you two somehow held hands, you didn't even notice that you started holding hands at some point during the flight.

When the plane's wheels hit the ground, you were off to leave. Both of you with the two duffel bags over your shoulders. Bob followed you down the narrow aisle of the plane straight towards the exit.

By the time you stepped into the airport's terminal, the sky was completely dark. There was supposed to be a car waiting for you outside. And there was one. It was not hard not to spot. Black and completely identical to the one you were in a few hours earlier.

The Tower loomed above you against the dark night sky of New York City. You stood at the base of it, just in front of the large glass doors. Your old duffel bag slung over your shoulder as you stared up at the height of the building.

Next to you, Bob stood in bigger awe. His curls by his temples were flattened slightly from the flight when he slept and his mouth hung open. His eyes trailed all the way up, following the towering piece of the building in front of him. The emblem on the top of the tower had changed. It was no longer the proud symbol of the original Avengers.

You sighed out and finally looked in front of you where the doors awaited you. Your fingers curling around the strap over your shoulder. You started walking towards it and Bob followed without a word, falling in beside you as he quickly jogged up to catch up.

As you approached the doors, they parted automatically almost like they were expecting you.

And standing just beyond them was Valentina Allegra de Fontaine.

Wearing her immaculately professional, tailored suit jacket with a skirt. Her shoulders were straight just as her whole posture. Smiling with that sly smile of hers.

“It is so lovely to see you,” she drawled out the words, “Twenty-Two. Robert."

She looked you both up and down. Looking at the two people in plain clothes, duffel bags slung over their shoulders, "you look like tourists,” she remarked with a grimace. You didn't bother to respond and just stared at her.

“Come on in,” she said as she turned around on her high-heels, "the others are already here… well... apart from Walker and Barnes."

She didn’t wait for you to respond. She was already walking off, her heels echoing on the floor. You nodded to Bob and then the both of you followed her inside.

"It looks cool," Bob muttered softly under his breath as you followed Valentina closely. Bob was standing close, his shoulder brushing yours, his duffel bag gripped loosely in his hand. Now off his shoulder.

You didn’t answer him. You were too busy watching Valentina’s silhouette glide through the reception of the Tower like she owned the entire world.

“There are rooms assigned to you both,” Valentina said without turning around, heading to the elevator that you have once stood in when you were on your way to save Bob a few months back, “you can... do whatever, but I want you in the briefing room tomorrow morning.”

You didn’t disagree or protest and just nodded. The elevator took you up a good number of floors up to the top of the Tower. That wasn't even the first day. You couldn't call it a first day, it was just the day you came to sleep at the late Avengers' tower.

The actual first day was atrocious.

There was no other word for it.

Everything felt stiff and wrong for so many reasons. From the moment you stepped out of your new room on the highest floor you've ever been on. It was all so bad. The people; your supposed teammates, looked like strangers who didn't even understand the English language. It's like they were changed during those two months that you all were gone. Like it wasn't even the people you met in the vault back in Utah. No one smiled. No one said good morning. No one even looked at each other for longer than a second. It was all so awkward.

Alexei was the only one talking. Or trying to talk. He was making terrible jokes, commenting on everything he laid his eyes on, and asking the most bizarre questions known to a person.

That first day. That first day was terrible. You didn't do anything. You've done absolutely nothing.

Bob stayed close to you most of it. Maybe because he was just as uncomfortable as you were. You spoke only with Bob. He was near you every single time, like he had nowhere else to go.

You also haven't even spoken with John. He was quiet. He was too quiet. It was all too awkward. Almost weird.

But things got better. Achingly slowly.

A few days in, something started to shift. Something was starting to change. Not just in you, but in everyone else too.

It changed during the training you had on the schedule. Valentina stomped her feet that you were not quite working out as heroes should during those few months and sent you all off into the training room like you were kids on the playground.

At first, it was just you and Yelena.

She was there in the early morning. You paused in the doorway when you were about to enter, catching sight of her. She was standing on the mat. She wasn't wearing her fighting suit, the one she wore in the vault. Just a pair of leggings and a tank top. She glanced at you and then turned back to where she was looking at the weights on the floor.

You stepped onto the mat anyway. Neither of you said anything, but she glanced back up and kept her gaze on you. Now not caring about the weights that she was picking out.

Then, finally, she broke the silence, "want to try out your reflexes?” she asked you, her body angled towards you.

A smile tugged at your lips. You were just glad to hear her talk.

“Only if you still have it in you,” you teased the blonde woman, which pulled out a grin from her.

She didn’t waste time and the next moment she was launching herself at you with a swift punch aimed straight at your face. You barely ducked in time, it was so unexpected.

Then it began. She came at you with force, all hard punches of her fists thrown. But you weren’t easy either, you didn't let yourself down. You dodged each punch of hers, kicking with your legs rather than your fists.

Her hand flew to your shoulder as she jumped at you. You caught her mid-kick she was planning on doing to you. Instead of backing off and dodging the kick, you surged forward quickly. You wrapped your arms tightly around her thigh that was in the air and with one quick motion you threw her on the mat. Her body flew and she let out a loud, pained, and surprised grunt when she hit the mat under herself hard.

She groaned, sprawled flat on her back, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared up at you from her laying position. You leaned over her, laughing at the blonde woman below. She stared at you like she couldn’t believe you actually did that. Almost like she didn't expect something like that from you.

“…Okay,” she muttered. You offered her your hand and she swiftly took it. You were still chuckling, but it was quickly cut when you were suddenly flying over your own body onto your back.

Yelena pulled your arm and threw you over. Now she was the one chuckling. She stood above you, her hands on her hips with a grin that could light up the whole world. You layed there, staring up at her, stunned like ever.

“What a cheater you are,” you gasped out from your laying position on the mat. Letting the smile jump onto your lips. Yelena started laughing, not chuckling like you. Loud and cheerful. She was completely laughing out loud, the sound echoing off the training room's walls.

And somehow, laying on your back, sore and mildly betrayed by Yelena's very unfair antics of getting you down, you couldn’t help but laugh with her.

"It's seven in the morning! Quiet down your laughter!" came an annoyed voice from the doorway of the training room.

John Walker stood there with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed like the noise had really physically hurt him. Behind him, two others appeared. Bucky and Ava were coming into the training room.

You turned your head from where you were still sprawled on the mat, catching the three new people in the room.

“Shut up, Walker!” Yelena called through her laughter, not even looking back at him, still staring at your laying form on the mat, "It is nine, not seven!"

"That's the same," John grumbled like a mad bear, dragging himself further into the training room as Yelena reached down and helped you to your feet again. You were still breathless, still half-laughing as you finally stood beside her.

"Throw each other on the floor until you start laughing. Great activity for nine in the morning," John mumbled under his breath.

Ava trailed behind John slowly, raising a brow at the scene on the mat where you and Yelena were. You and Yelena exchanged glances at John's words. Both of you still trying to catch your breath from the sparring. It was fun, you had to admit.

"Well," the blonde woman said, still grinning at you, "at least I now know that you're good at dodging punches."

You grinned back at her, "and now I know that you cheat."

From there, it was like you were all replaced. From that day you all stayed. You talked, joked, and laughed. It was all genuine. The days weren't full of an awkward silence anymore. You were no longer strangers who were forced to share a space and live together. You were sharing the moments in that shared space. You were starting to be something else. Someone else.

And it all felt normal.

Well. It felt normal until Valentina came in with her all-sweet tone of her voice and told you she already has missions for you planned. And that she has the new suits done and prepared for you all.

"So, what do you think?" Valentina smiled at you as she pointed at the suit that hung on the hanger in one of the hundreds of rooms in the Tower.

"I don't like it."

"What—What is there not to like?" Valentina's head snapped at you and then at the suit. Unbelieving your statement, trying to find anything bad-looking on the suit.

"It's too... I don't know. It's not me. It doesn't look like what I used to wear," you stared at the grey suit in front of you.

It wasn't that dark shade of grey that you had before. It was now a very light grey, nothing you could hide in. There wasn't a tactical vest either. It only had pockets on the front of the suit. It looked almost too plain. Like it wasn't meant for a fight, but more for the pictures.

"That’s the point, Twenty-Two. The people need heroes. You can't be walking around like a military soldier that scares people," Valentina stared at the suit and then back at you, her arms coming to rest on her hips almost like she was flooded with disappointment.

“This isn’t a runway, Valentina,” you said, voice lower now. “I don’t need to look like a fetishized hero figure. I need something that I can fight in," you groaned as you glanced at the woman and then again at the suit hanging in front of you.

Valentina let out the loudest sigh you’d ever heard from her. It was so dramatic that it may even have made a cut into something theatrical, "okay! Fine,” she muttered annoyingly, "I knew you’d say that, I knew it. Of course, you'd be like this."

She spun on her heels and walked around you, "had this one made just in case, okay? Just in case you decided to be difficult. And of course, you were..."

She disappeared around the corner just behind you and you heard her heels clicking against the floor and she was also muttering something under her breath.

Then you heard her make a weird noise and then Valentina stepped back into the room from behind the corner she had gone around a moment before. And your breath was caught at the sight. Like it was nearly pulled out of you.

She was carrying something completely different from that ugly piece of suit that hung behind you. Something entirely different, something that you would actually wear. Something almost too familiar.

That deep grey tactical fabric hung in her arms. That tactical black vest with pockets in the same exact place your pockets were before sat just as well where your chest was. The perfectly designed new-looking thigh holster for your gun etched on the suit's thigh. The holster had been upgraded too. But it was literally the same.

It was an exact replica. But better looking.

“I had it made just in case you rejected the other one,” she added, waving her hand towards the suit still hanging behind you, "figured you’d be stubborn..."

You stared at the fabric for a long moment. Your eyes were tracing every single detail on it like you were staring at a piece of yourself. You moved forward and took it off her hands, touching the dark grey fabric.

"I like this one."

"Well, I'm very fucking glad," Valentina snapped at you with a long drawled-out sigh. She didn’t wait for a reply from you and instead, she just turned around towards the suit still hanging behind you. She ripped it off the hanger and groaned at the touch of the fabric on her fingers, "it looked so nice!"

She stomped off around the corner again, her heels clicking on the floor with her hurried steps. You heard the sound of fabric hitting a wall behind that corner, she must have just thrown it somewhere there.

“It looked so nice!” she repeated under her breath, as she threw that piece away. Then she barked like an annoyed dog from behind the wall, "and please. Try it on!”

You exhaled a breath and glanced down at the familiar but newer-looking piece of a suit in your hands. You heard Valentina's steps fade as she walked deeper into the hallway behind that corner of the room.

So, you pulled your shirt right over your head and set it over a chair nearby. Then came pants and your shoes. Then you pulled on the material over your body and clicked the tactical belt into place on your hips. The vest settled nicely against your chest and sat so well that it felt like home to you. Everything was exactly where it used to be.

Valentina’s voice rang out from somewhere behind that corner, "I swear to god, if you’re still not satisfied with that suit, I’m going to—”

She appeared from behind that corner of the room and just as her eyes landed on you, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her mouth shut up like she forgot how to speak.

You exhaled through your nose and put your hands on your hips, staring at the woman, "what?"

"I can't say you look bad, because you really don't look bad. It looks nice," Valentina nodded and looked you up and down. She stepped closer but still observing you from afar. You raised an eyebrow at that, "that was supposed to be a compliment?”

"Take it or leave it," she stopped closer in front of you and reached out to adjust the strap on your vest, fidgeting with a buckle that didn’t need fixing. You let her, even though you both knew the suit was already perfect the way it was sitting on you.

Valentina gave a quick nod, smoothing the front of your suit, "okay, it’s nice. Don’t ruin it on the first day,” she said with that fake smile of hers, before turning on her heel and striding away from the room.

You turned around slowly, the feeling of newness in your boots catching at your movement. You caught your reflection in the mirror just where the other suit hung a few minutes before. The suit on you was just like you imagined.

Then the footsteps sounded back. Valentina was returning. Most likely.

You groaned, eyes rolling into an annoyed eyeroll. You turned around, starting to say with frustration, “yes, I told you I like—” but then you froze, your words dying in your throat.

Bob stood there from behind that corner.

His eyes flickered on your suit, taking it all in. He shuffled closer and then he spoke, "you… uh… you look nice,” stammering out, "really nice. Like really nice."

"You're not Valentina," you stared at the brown-curled man in front of you.

"Nope," he said without taking his eyes off you. He then blinked a few times and laughed under his breath like he forgot what he was doing, "I, uh… I was coming to ask something but…”

He trailed off like he was unsure of what he actually wanted to say. You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head at him.

“But?” you asked the man.

“You look… really nice,” he said again, smiling at you with that soft smile of his, "I mean... Not—not that you don’t usually—"

You smiled at him and turned towards the mirror once again, "thanks, Bob... I look good in my fighting clothes?" you let your smile turn into a grin.

Behind you, Bob cleared his throat, "yeah. You do. Um... That’s all I came to say. Just that..."

You turned back slowly, arms folding over your tactical vest which was against your chest over your suit, "you sure?”

Bob nodded at that, but his eyes kept searching for something on your face. Looking for something lost. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t know what.

He looked back down at your suit again and then he looked back down at his attire, "I can’t go on missions yet,” he said lowly, "I tried something. But I can’t be like that… not without him.”

There was no need to ask Bob who him was. You knew. Everyone knew. The name was not needed. That part, which lived deep inside him and seeks to be let out at Bob's worst.

The Void.

His eyes flickered over the room, but at the same time, they always fell upon your suit that you were wearing. But then they dropped back to the floor, like he was embarrassed by not being what everyone expected of him. What Valentina expected of him. Like he was ashamed of what he wasn't.

“I know,” you said quietly to him, "no one is asking you to be... him right now. You just need to be you."

He took a step forward. It was painfully slow and it seemed almost too hesitant. Bob's eyes lifted again and those two sky- colored orbs met yours.

“I don’t know how to be just me anymore,” he admitted softly, "I still think about... what I've done. Who I have was back there..." he let out a breath that was quite a laugh but also quite wasn't, "yeah, well… I think Valentina doesn't even want me here. She would prefer him to be there rather than me...”

You stepped toward him now, "but I prefer you," you smiled up at the curly-headed man as you took a closer step to him.

Slowly he then mirrored your movement, closing the small gap between the two of you. He dipped his head low, so close it felt like he might just peck you on the lips, but instead Bob froze like time had been stopped.

You reached up slowly, brushing a lost curls of his hair from his forehead that dropped just by his eye. He tilted his head slightly, the curl falling back down where it was.

"You look like… like you again," he said softly, those eyes gazing at you like the sea.

“Did I not look like me before?" you teased him and pushed the curl away once again, but as stubborn as he is, the curl fell back.

"That's not—I meant—" Bob’s gaze dropped from you but then it was quickly lifted back up to meet yours, "I met you in that suit, but it’s—” He paused, the words catching in his throat like he didn't plan out his own sentence.

“Oh, I know what you meant," you teased the man with a grin that stretched at your lips, "I'm just messing with you."

Then came another voice.

"Guys, did you see the new suits? Look at my—Ew, what the fuck?"

Your hand dropped slowly from where it had just brushed away Bob's curl away. His cheeks were getting painted with that soft pink shade, embarrassment falling onto him. You both stepped back, breaking the closeness as Ava appeared in the doorway.

“Anyway, kiss all you want, I don’t care,” Ava said with a smirk at the two of you, waving her hand between you and Bob, “but first, look at the material of this!” she jabbed her finger at her own suit that she was wearing.

Bob shifted awkwardly, taking a small step back and lowering his gaze to the floor He was very clearly much embarrassed to be caught in such a close moment.

You snorted, watching her gesture violently to the textured fabric, "it looks nice on you, Ava."

"I know!"

Those past months have all been so different from each other. Those months have really reshaped your whole life. Your whole future. It was all so different from what you had expected from your future. Of what were you thinking about. But it wasn't a bad difference. It wasn't good either. It brought its good sides and bad sides with it. Some days brought hope and joy, others frustration and disappointment. It was a new chapter in your own book. A chapter you haven't read yet.

But you know that you're ready for that new chapter.

Ready for whatever awaits you in the future. Missions would come. There will be challenges to face and people to protect. Until then, you have to wait and follow the path. Moving forward, but it won't be just about you. You won't be alone this time. There will be others too. Others who are going to stay there with you. They're allies, companions, camaraderies... They're everything that you didn't have before.

It won't be just you. You won't be walking this path that awaits you alone this time.

hope you liked this! if yes, comments and feedback are very appreciated! <3

elton john is now canon in the mcu from now on.......

also i love love love u guys! thank you for giving my fanfiction any of your spare attention and readingthe chapters! around 4k hits on ao3 and over hundreds of notes on tumblr (insane to me) i'm so grateful it means the whole world to me <3

TAGLIST: @qardasngan , @one17 , @ren-ni , @werewolfgirl1995 , @mysticdelusionengineer , @lauryn2theelectricboogaloo , @mewmew222 , @badbishsblog , @lovely-foxes-exe , @funkyfable , @melvin333 , @sunflower-0180 , @witch-of-letters , @articel1967 , @kazamys , @ch-3-rry , @blackstabbath6

[shysuccubusstuff]

Helping Hand

Content: Non proof-reader; Android! Caleb + Overstimulation + Fake cum + Size difference + Dacryphilia + Praise kink + Aftercare

Summary: You chose to buy one of those new androids in the market, after all, with the little time you had, it was logical for you to get one! But after your birthday party, you can't help but feel like something has changed within Caleb...

Note: I'm finally done with exams but now my brain is dry... On another note, I have to keep on writing my novel! It has nothing to do with my usual work here, but I really should keep on writing cause I have so much ideas for cool characters! Wish I could draw them... I hope people get the ideas of how Android! Caleb lower half works...

Note 2: I just put some fake nails and writing has become so difficult... Had to use two pens towards the end...

Android! Caleb who opens his eyes and encounters your face. He was programmed to be cold, always following the orders of the person who bought him. At least, that was what he had learnt, as you soon rebooted his whole system, changing his personality to a softer and more "human" one. He is still quite confused, why would he need to have a personality for serving a human? Still, he couldn't help but feel a strange rush of electricity run through his system, maybe he had a strange type of malfunction?

Android! Caleb who becomes accustomed to taking care of you. He is always close to you, always waiting by the door of the house a few minutes before your arrival, food still warm and waiting for you to eat, the house completely in order from him cleaning it... Gosh, you could even feel all the tension leaving your body as soon as you entered your house. You allowed him to carry you to the bathroom, head resting against his soft chest as you let him undress you, letting your clothes carefully folded as he helped you get inside the lukewarm bath.

Android! Caleb who becomes your only caretaker. It took him less than a few days to get completely used to your body language, knowing exactly what you wanted, when you wanted it and even how you wanted it. He was basically reading your mind, always one step ahead, letting you rest your exhausted body on his bigger body, his soft hands caressing your hair as his mechanic heart kept pumping the blue liquid all over his system. You knew you shouldn't get so attached to him, but how were you supposed to stop yourself from it when he knew you like the palm of his hand?...

Android! Caleb who receives a strange update. It had recently been your birthday, so you decided to make a small party, nothing big, really. You invited a few of your friends from work, together with some other friends from when you were still studying, organising a small party at your house for all of you to drink and have fun while watching some low-quality films. It was around 3:00 when you started to feel your eyelids dropping, with your friends too focused on the climax of the film for them to notice, you chose to simply fall asleep in the cozy sofa, surely someone would wake you up sooner or later, right?

Android! Caleb who becomes much more... domestic. You didn't notice the first few days, still unaware of the strange update your friends had added as a "gift" for you. Yes, it was a bit strange for Caleb to always greet you with a hug and a kiss on your forehead, but hey, maybe it was something that they had added in one of the millions of updates Caleb had, maybe some client had complained about them being too stiff? Whatever, it wasn't as if you were particularly concerned about it, in fact, you did like it a bit...

Android! Caleb who finally puts his update to good use. It was late at night when you suddenly felt the urge to do it. It wasn't something particularly strange, with you being alone most of the time and all the stuff you liked reading and listening... What was strange was the moment the door to your bedroom was knocked. You quickly hid your naked lower half with the sheets trying your best to get your phone to hide the content you were seeing. "Caleb?" You whispered, heart beating rapidly in fear of having been discovered by him. "Pips? I'm sorry for disturbing you so late at night, but my systems have warned me that my owner, that is you, is currently in need of my assistance." You furrowed your brows, slightly confused about what was he even implying, still, you knew Caleb was unable to cause any harm to you, so you simply sighed, letting him enter without much thought. "So what was wrong, Caleb?" Caleb smiled, sitting close to you and petting your hear with his rough hands. "My system told me you needed my help, do you need it? I have been upgraded with the latest system, allowing me to help you in this kind of delicate activity." Still confused, you simply nodded, after all, the system tended to be right. As soon as you did so, Caleb removed the sheets that were covering your body, his huge hands lifting your legs with ease, getting them closer to your face, just enough for your slick pussy to be in front of his face.

"Caleb! Just-- Just what are you doing?" You tried your best to get him to let go of your ankles, squirming around with not much luck, with Caleb still retaining his sweet smile.

"I'm fulfilling my new tasks, you allowed me to do so." Caleb's arm moved, changing his grip on your thigs to keeping your body in position with just his arm. "Now, no more moving, pips, I need you to remain calm so I can help you appropietly." Caleb's tongue stick out, this time looking slightly longer than usual, his right hand making his way to your entrance as his mouth got closer to your clit.

"Wa--Wait a second! I'm pretty sure this was NOT included when I bought your model--!" Caleb stopped for a second, his expressions remaining as sweet as always.

"It wasn't. Your friends added it to my program in hopes of making you happier, they explained it to me and I agreed. I believed it would truly help you destress. I hope I will actually ." Caleb moved closer, spreading soft kisses all over your lower tummy, making a small path towards your pussy. At the same time, his hands started to glide towards your entrance, teasing it with his fingers by simply gliding up and down on it but never actually inserting them, simply coating his fingers with your lewd fluids. "Let me know if you feel any discomfort." Caleb's mouth slowly got closer, wet kisses being left around your clit as a way to tease your sensitivity, being unable to not smile after seeing your back arch from the sudden touch. Following the set procedure, Caleb slowly entered one of his fingers, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue and making you cling to the sheets, soft whimpers leaving your mouth even despite you tried to cover your mouth with your hands as a way to avoid letting even more shameful sounds escape. Suddenly, one of Caleb's hands moved, grabbing your wrists with ease and pinning them on top of your head. "I need to hear you so I can know exactly what you need." Caleb moved, his face now facing yours before diving himself into a deep kiss, his right hand still playing with your clit, making short circles around it regardless of your poor attempts of squirming away.

"Ca... Caleb! Too much-- it's too much!" You whispered, chest puffing up and down as you tried to recover from Caleb's kiss.

"My name is not the safe word, you should probably know that." Caleb suddenly switched positions, letting your back rest against his chest, his legs tangled around yours to avoid letting you try to close your legs, his lips kissing yours as he moved one of his hands to your chest, playing with your nipple as the other hand kept slowly moving inside you, searching for that sweet spot until you let a whimper escape you. "This must be your g-spot, right? Gotta make sure you enjoy this." Caleb kissed your face, peppering soft kisses all over your face as he slowly introduced another of his digits, his fingers constantly hitting that spot even as you kept trying to move away from him, with Caleb simply laughing softly against your ear, pushing his fingers even deeper inside. "You're so cute... Humans always react so vividly to the stimuli..." You could't help but feel embarrased, with Caleb's mocking tone reverberating inside your head as he kept forcing you to cum around his fingers, using his other hand to pinch and twist your nipples with just enough force.

It had been over 20 minutes since your sweet torture had begun, with Caleb moving and hitting the exact place you were craving, forcing you to close your eyes from the overstimulation. "Caleb~... That's enough... I don't think I can cum more..." Your voice sounded now raspy from all your whines and moans, with Caleb obviously ignoring them, simply cooing you.

"That's alright, then we can finally move to the main course, right?" Caleb finally let you move a bit, getting up and removing his trousers, leaving them on your chair before returning to the bed. "Let me syncronise my tools, alright?" Suddenly, Caleb's lower half changed from the usual plain surface to the shape of an erect cock, his . "Let me just..." Caleb got on top of you, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, moving his hand to grab his cock and starting to rub it against your entrance, letting some of his self-lubricating fluid just for extra caution. "I'll do it slowly, open wide now, pips." You took a deep breath as Caleb's cock entered you, softly biting against his shoulder as a way to stay calm. "Such a good girl... Just a bit more." And you could simply whine, your insides already feeling as if they were about to tear as Caleb finally bottomed out. "So good for me..." Caleb caressed your cheek, kissing your forehead as he started to move, barely moving a few centimeters before pushing back in, nails digging on his back as he kept pressing his body against yours. "Just a bit more... It will feel so good in just a few minutes..." Caleb pressed your mouths together, sucking on your tongue before starting to french kiss you, a strand of saliva connecting you both the moment the kiss ended.

As the minutes passed, you were finally able to get used to his size, the slight discomfort changing into pure pleasure, making your eyes roll back each time he rubbed that spot. "You feel so nice wrapped around me... Let me help you a bit baby." Caleb lifted your body with ease, laying your body on your front before moving back on top of you, his cock entering you, the pressure of his weight making you bite on the pillow that was close to you, whinning as Caleb's hand made light pressure on your lower stomach, just enough for you to start feeling his length even more, each thrust making your walls wrap around his cock, the system of Caleb slowly getting overheated each time you clenched around him. "Be careful... My system may get a bit overwhelmed if you keep clinging so much to me..." That was of course easier said than done, after all, it had been such a long time since you had been able to feel so good... Still, you tried your best, taking a deep breath and hugging your pillow, a few tears falling down your cheeks as you felt your mind slowly slipping away.

"Too big... You're crushing me~..." You whined, the heat radiating from Caleb mixed with the feeling of having your insides scrambled being enough to make your head feel overwhelmed. Regardless of that, Caleb kept going, his hips bumping against your ass each time he forced his whole length inside you, his hands petting your hair whole he whispered soft praises against your ear.

"So good... Cum all around me pips, show me just how much you're enjoying this..." Caleb's raspy voice echoed inside your mind, the embarrasment of having your own android seen you so fucked dumb suddenly leaving, letting you only focus on how much you wanted Caleb to praise you... So of course you did just as he asked, your gummy walls pulsing around his cock as you felt a warm liquid filling you up, forcing you to cum for who knows what time, toes curling as you felt Caleb increasing his rhythm at the same time you came, then slowing down as he felt your breath become even heavier.

After letting you recover your breath for a few minutes, you felt Caleb lifting you up from the bed, carrying to the bathroom with ease and letting you rest inside the warm bathtub and using a soft towel to scrub you, removing all the sweat together with the mixture of his cum and all your fluids. He then left for a few minutes, returning with a huge towel, wrapping your whole body around it before taking his sweet time drying it. After that, all you could remember was te warm embrace of Caleb, mixed with the fresh smell of a new set of heet together with the citrusy smell that emanated from him.

[bitteriekitten]

yeehaw. (1/2)

synopsis — save a horse, ride a cowboy or whatever it is that they're saying out there in the wild west. OR the l&ds boys as cowboys. (1/2)

contents — fem!reader, fluff, terrible attempts at writing crack ??????, weak attempts at banter el oh el, reader has a dad who runs a ranch and she works at the ranch alongside the l&ds boys, vague descriptions of ranch life (all source material i have for the ranch lifestyle are all from the cowboy romances i've read. sry), farmhand!xavier, livestock veterinarian!zayne, (brief descriptions of) riding instructor!rafayel, sweaty stinky and shirtless l&ds cowboys, swearing, suggestive content and language, and probably so many more that i've overlooked. lmk if i missed anything !!!

featuring — xavier, zayne, & rafayel (separate fics)

notes — if infold comes out with a cowboy AU multibanner best believe i'm spending half of my life savings just to get all of them 😍 but fr, this was rly fun to make!! i've been referring to the cowboy romances that i read during my hiatus to write this, so i apologize if this isn't an exact replica of the cowboy lifestyle. u can catch sylus and caleb in part 2 <3 i had to separate them bc their AUs are different from what i cooked up for xav zayne and raf (hint: they're bull-riders eheheheh). feedback is most appreciated and if u have any more requests (or jus want to scream abt l&ds with me), you can drop them down in my ask box - no matter how unhinged or wholeseome they may be <3

check out my other stuff here ❤️‍🔥

you stumbled out of your room yawning, startled awake by multiple loud crashes down at the ranch, which was conveniently right outside your window. laughter sounded outside, followed right after by something being dropped and some colorful swearing. you vaguely remembered snoring through your father telling you that he had hired some extra hands, three or so men he’d met at a bar in town. so you couldn’t really be mad at them for being rowdy so early in the morning – they were cowboys. plus it was so early in the morning, you didn't have the energy yet to be pissed. “looks like the princess is finally awake.” your father called from the dining table. he quickly poured orange juice in an empty glass for you. “i don’t wanna hear anything about how fuckin’ loud they are down at the ranch. you should’ve been used to waking up early by now anyway.” “i wasn’t going to.” you said with an eye roll, but thanked him for the orange juice anyway. you then stepped outside, haphazardly putting on shoes to go around the back to see what the new help were doing.

Xavier stuck out like a sore thumb at the ranch, with his light hair and youthful face, but he was definitely still a sight for sore eyes out on the field. when he wasn't handling the livestock, he was moving around bales of hay and other heavy equipment, his biceps bulging and his jaw tense from the effort.

you'd spot him out on the field wearing nothing but grimy jeans, a white hat, a pair of boots, and a pair of leather gloves as he moved a new shipment of hay. it was why you were grateful for a window by your bed; you had full free access to ogle at anything and everything he did out there.

but it was also why you hated it. xavier somehow knew when you'd be watching him, like it was instinctual for him (or you were just staring too much that it bordered on creepiness). he'd catch your eye through the window just as he hauled another bale into the back of his truck, and smile when you'd quickly turn away in embarrassment.

he was a hit with the kids and the chickens, handling them their milk and feed in record time and effectively shutting them up for the next five hours. the horses were a different story with xavier, though. you often had to help him out with them, as they sometimes get a bit picky on who gets to feed and generally care for them.

you couldn't help but find it hilarious that both xavier and the horses flinch whenever they see and come into any kind of contact with each other. he's had a few extremely close calls with their back legs, but they eventually managed to warm up enough for xavier to finally begin sensitivity training for them.

speaking of sensitivity training, you were surprised to spot him outside your home about to knock on your door.

"xavier?" you called, opening the door for him before he could rap his fist on the wood.

"hey, y/n." xavier greeted you as he placed his hand over at the top of your doorframe, leaning over you with his entire height. you gulped at how he was basically towering over you, his shadow covering most of your figure.

"do you think i can borrow your dresses for the horses?" he asked, in the same tone he would use when he would ask for a basket of eggs.

you blanched, taken aback from his request as your flustered state immediately broke. "um. i don't think my dresses will fit the horses." you replied with an eyebrow raised.

"no, it's for me." xavier quickly reassured you, pointing to himself, but it did little to actually reassure you. "i'm starting to do sensitivity training on the new horses we're fostering, and i forgot to bring my usual stuff from my apartment." he said.

you scoffed at his ridiculousness, and how serious he was taking his ridiculousness. "uh... i don't think my dresses will fit you either." you replied, this time with a chuckle you couldn't hold back. your eyes flitted over his figure subconsciously, and he caught you in the act with a smirk.

"how would you know that, y/n?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, his hat tilting along with the movement.

your cheeks burned in embarrassment and you turned away from him, avoiding his eyes that were suddenly very interested in you. "what color did you want that dress, xavier?" you asked instead, walking to your bedroom with him following behind with a chuckle.

xavier in a bright yellow dress over his jeans that barely zipped up his back still managed to look good. he also decided to ditch his hat for one of your ribbon headbands, and also snatched up your father's old new year's glasses from 2006. you held back a laugh behind the palm of your hand as you watched him, wanting to keep it professional for his sake at least.

armed with a folding umbrella, xavier stood by one of the brown horses, who refused to make eye contact with him. he quickly tightened his grip around the rope holding the horse, then clicked open the umbrella, to which the horse flinched back and pulling xavier with him.

you couldn't hold back your laugh when xavier stumbled at the force of the horse's movements. he looked back at you with a grin of his own.

"enjoying yourself, y/n?" he asked.

"very much so," you replied, still laughing.

it continued on for several hours, with xavier getting up to anything just to startle the poor horse. there truly was no wrong way to go about desensitizing a horse - dropping things accidentally and mixing up words managed to work anyway.

by the end of the session, the horse still flinched at the slightest of sudden sounds and movement, but it was less violent now - that's a win in xavier's book. you retired back to your front porch with a book and a pitcher of iced tea after xavier's antics got boring by the 30-minute mark.

you snorted when the cowboy walked up your porch still in your dress and other accessories in hand. he had his hat on this time instead of your headband, which contrasted greatly against the yellow dress he still had on. the dress had dirt on the edges of the skirt and mud splatters over the torso, which also splattered over the side of his neck.

it was infuriating how he still managed to look so fucking good.

"you're doing the laundry for that one." you told him instead, laughing loudly as he approached you. he took your half-empty glass of iced tea and drank all of it in one go.

"i think i managed to zip this thing up completely after i crawled in between shane's legs." xavier said as he poured himself another glass.

you snorted, "why'd you give the horse a human name?"

xavier shrugged, "he looked like a shane."

you laughed again, and xavier smiled to himself as he finished drinking up his second glass of iced tea. he set down the glass back on its coaster and turned his back to you, "can you unzip me? i cant reach the zipper now that it's zipped all the way up."

you laughed as your hands reach up to undo the zipper. it only zipped up to his lower back, right below where his hard chest couldn't be squeezed into the fabric. but miraculously it managed to zip all the way up.

"never thought i'd be the one unzipping my dress from another person." you joked. xavier turned his head to you with a raised eyebrow and one corner of his lips upturned into a smirk.

"oh? did you want me to unzip your dress for you, then?" he teased as the zipper finally opened up enough for him to take his arms out of the dress's sleeves.

"i- xavier!" you exclaimed, face slowly heating up again like he did earlier in the day.

you stared at his glistening back as he stepped out of the dress through the skirt. xavier turned to face you this time, folding your dress neatly into one hand. his head tilted to the side and a deceivingly innocent smile appeared on his face as he held out his hand for you to take.

"come on. show me where you do your laundry." he said, back to his innocent antics like he didn't just give you a heart attack.

Zayne looked like he should be the last person working at a ranch. he showed up like he stumbled upon the wrong place at the wrong time, his eyes unsure and uneasy.

but then your father quickly steered him to the heavily pregnant goat inside the barn, whose leg was sprained after it got knocked over during the night. zayne quickly got to work to bandaging up the poor mom, managing to get its leg healed and working in no time.

you often just stood by the veterinarian in astonishment, just watching zayne work his magic onto the other livestock. he was probably the only rancher you've seen who never gets plucked at by the chickens, or be head-butted by the goats, or have the horses flinch away from his touch. you've had your fair share of veterinarians at the ranch, but they were never as young and efficient (and honestly, handsome) as he was.

when he wasn't out checking up on the livestock, zayne was moving around bales of hay and heavy equipment. you didn't know why you were surprised that a man as handsome and capable as zayne had a toned body of his own - walking around the ranch with just a oil-stained wife-beater, muddy jeans, and a pair of worn down boots.

zayne was quiet, kept to himself most of the time, and did his job quickly and orderly. he was practically every rancher's wet dream in terms of being responsible. you had to give it to him for being passionate about his work; it was clear as day that your father loved having him out at the field.

safe to say, you had grown a little fond of the stoic doctor, despite his apparent disinterest in you. he only ever spared you hums and nods of acknowledgement whenever you'd assist him, and preferred to reply to you in monosyllabic sentences.

it was hilarious to think that this was literally all you had to gain your silly crush on him - just assisting him whenever he needed it and being at arm's length from him.

still, it was enough for you to have your cheeks flushing whenever you saw him, or stand beside him as he worked. because at least you had something to look forward to when waking up for another grueling day at the field. you've long accepted that he will never realistically be interested in you at all, and that everything between the two of you was to be kept strictly professional.

but if you were being honest with yourself, a tiny bit of hope was still clinging onto the tendrils of your heart - that maybe, maybe he feels the same way as you do.

it was the little things he did; it might as well be a figment of your imagination with how seldom it happens. but you know that his eyes following you from across the barn means something, or that the way his hand guides you out of the way from a fussy horse isn't just a thing he does all the time. you know, deep down in your heart, there's something there.

however, each time it happens, as you lay down on your bed every night, staring up at your ceiling in the dark, you remind yourself once more - everything between the two of you was to be kept strictly professional.

but it was on a friday evening that you and zayne were alone out on the field. the little bonfire he made crackled and popped, mixing in with the sounds of the quiet night at the countryside. you walked out of the house with candied fruits and iced tea, a small reward for the hard work done for the day. zayne accepted the fruit enthusiastically - he seemed to have a sweet tooth.

"any plans for the weekend, dr. zayne?" you asked. zayne shook his head and sipped on his iced tea.

"no - i'd rather be here." he replied.

"ah..." you nodded, a little embarrassed at how quickly he shot down your attempt in small talk. "...well, me too. the bar down town's a little grungy, anyway." you said, a feeble crack at filling up the silence between the both of you.

zayne hummed and nodded, taking another sip of his drink. "i'd rather be here with you."

the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you tried to process his words, his voice, his everything. you turned to him, unsure of what to say - what to do, "wh- what?"

zayne, to your horror, looked completely serious. what a bad time to remember that he rarely ever joked around, especially with you. "i like your company, y/n." he said, a hint of a smile on his lips. "i'd rather stay here in the quiet with you after a long day of work than to go anywhere else for the weekend."

your heartbeat quickening, you tried to think of something to say, something smart or witty to reply to his sudden confession. but you were helplessly blanking out. "o-oh. um... i wasn't expecting you to say that."

zayne cocked his head to the side, still keeping his gaze on you. "what did you expect me to say, y/n?"

you shrug with a singular shoulder, squirming helplessly underneath his gaze. "i dunno - that you're busy. or have to work overnight." literally anything else that doesn't make me hope that i have a chance for you.

"i managed to finish the day's work in record time, and i don't like working outside my work hours." zayne replied matter-of-factly, adjusting the watch on his wrist. "and that's because of your help. you help me maintain my work that i don't see the need to work overtime. at this rate, you must be sick of seeing me."

"what? no, i don't." you replied in shock.

"really?" zayne asked, his lips forming a wide smile this time. "you're by my side almost 24/7 down at the ranch at work. wouldn't you be appalled that i still want to spend my time with you after work?"

you scoffed in disbelief, frazzled by his sudden confessions coming at you from all sides. you avoid his eyes, still intently staring at you, burning holes into your skin at this point. "i'm more surprised that you want to see me all the time." you said softly.

"why, do you want to see me all the time?"

you hadn't noticed that zayne had moved to sit right beside you. you flinched at the warm shoulder that bumped against yours, rendering you breathless as you faced him, your eyes finally meeting his.

no words were exchanged. you hoped your your hammering heartbeat was enough of an answer for him. no words were actually exchanged, as you were too busy leaning in to kiss him while the bonfire slowly burned out into the starry night.

Rafayel liked to show up at the ranch early in the morning. while you were still busy catching up on sleep, he's already working on a few stuff around the barn. you were often not-so-rudely woken up by some drilling and hammering down at the ranch, and more often than not it was because rafayel saw something wrong with the equipment and thought that it needed some quick fixing.

it quickly became part of your routine to cuss him out through your window.

"can't you keep that shit down?! it's ass crack o'clock!" you yelled with your eyes still struggling to open all the way. rafayel paused from hammering at the fence he just fixed and turned to you with one eye closed and a delighted grin.

"sorry that i'm trying to fix the squeaking fence you were complaining about the other day, cutie!" he replied sarcastically, then proceeded to ignore your demands to continue hammering on the wood.

it went on like that as he got around the ranch. you'd complain about how loud he was being, and he'd have a witty quip for you already locked and loaded. you did your best to have as little interaction with him at the ranch as possible, but with how often your tasks coincided with his, it was almost impossible not to run into him.

he always had that exasperating, devastatingly handsome smile on his face whenever you cross paths at the ranch. with your eyes downcast, you always tried to pretend you hadn't even noticed him, doing something on your phone or checking if you'd stepped on something as he passed by you. you'd let out a sigh of relief as he just leaves without saying anything else to you, but you don't miss the cheeky laugh that trails after you.

"honestly cutie, you're like, my favorite co-worker." rafayel declared after hauling the trash out on the back. you scoffed at his words, appalled that he'd even say that out loud. "i'm the only lunatic who's crazy enough to work the same shifts as you." you replied.

"exactly. great minds think alike, no?" rafayel winked at you, lurching your heart to your throat in surprise.

"you're a dumbass."

your father quickly got rafayel to do horseback riding lessons for visitors and tourists at the ranch - he was young and had a boyish charm to him that hollywood liked to give cowboys in their movies. children loved the friendly cowboy with the winning smile, who has a steady hand over their backs and another on the horse's reins.

but he was especially a hit with the women, who bat their eyelashes at the cowboy and squirm in delight when he tells them to hold onto the reins tighter with a firm voice. either rafayel was clueless to their blatant flirting, or he just didn't care. the amount of filth these women had spewing out their mouths was honestly laughable.

and you don't blame them at all. rafayel was indeed gorgeous, despite how infuriating he was to talk to most of the time. but you don't go around telling that kind of information to anybody else; he'd have a field day if he finds out that his "favorite co-worker" thought he had pretty eyes and soft hair that she'd like to touch.

nothing ever really comes out of the flirting, though. unlike the average cowboy, rafayel didn't care much about attracting the most amount of admirers. he's always hard at work, like he's got something to prove. he fixes leaking pipes, screws and unscrews things, and can paint murals on the back of barns like nothing. he has his eyes set on something else, it seemed.

"cutie! wait up!"

just as you were about to climb up into your truck, rafayel caught up with you. he was sweating all over, his clothes stained with oil and mud, and a part of his cheek covered in streaks of mud. he furiously wiped away the dirt on his face with a damp towel as he approached you. despite all the grime that covered him, he still managed to smell like expensive perfume.

"you stink, rafayel." you said despite that, moving away from him. rafayel gave you a little shrug and swept a hand through his hair, slicking it back with his sweat.

"some twin boys almost fell off a horse. somebody had to hold them away from the mud." he replied. he pointed to your truck with his thumb, grinning widely. "can i drive us to dinner?"

you raised an eyebrow at him, suspicious of his motives, to which he pouted and pulled out his ridiculous puppy-dog face at you. "please, y/n? i want that steak you told me to get last time i went with your dad." he pleaded.

"you want to go get steak without your boss?" you asked with a humorless laugh, turning away from him to open the door the driver's seat. "you asking me out on a date, rafayel?"

"duh." rafayel said, leaning on your truck with one arm against the side. he held out on hand and began listing down things with his fingers, "i'll pay for our meal, i'll be the best gentleman, and i'll take you home back home before 10. promise!"

you blanched at his insistence - you were truly only joking with him about the date, but whatever he's offering sounded really good. this was one of the many times he's tried to take you out somewhere, and you've only ever brushed him off every time he did so.

you glanced at rafayel's face, whose smile grew wider the more the silence stretched on. he leaned in closer, giving you a closer look at his handsome smile. you felt your resolve slowly crack away; you truly couldn't stand this cowboy...

"if you stop touching my radio, we'll get steak." you deadpanned.

"i'll skip only one song, cutie. just one, then i'll never judge your music taste again." rafayel bargained with his hands clasping together. you rolled your eyes at his ridiculousness, then tilted your head to your truck, signaling him to get in.

rafayel cheered as he quickly climbed up the driver's seat. you walked around to get to the front seat, shivering at the cold air gusting from the air-conditioning. rafayel slumped back into his seat, relieved to be away from the heat of the afternoon sun.

"your truck's soooo nice, y/n." he groaned in satisfaction, "you've got functioning air-conditioning, soft cushions, little to no scratches on the truck. you're a wonderful driver."

you snorted as you grabbed your box of CDs, looking through your selection. "if you actually know how to take care of your truck, you wouldn't be complimenting it like this." you said.

"but how else am i going to have a chance to be this close to you, cutie?" rafayel teased, sitting up straight this time and turning the truck on. dumbstruck at his response, you turned to him with your mouth agape. "are you dumb?" you asked.

rafayel shook his head. "nope, just think you're pretty."

you choked on a gasp. "rafayel!"

he laughed out loud as he put the truck in drive. "what?" he asked, pretending to look innocent.

you scoffed, "you're ridiculous."

"you like it."

you didn't respond, afraid that you'll say that you do.

taglist 𓂃۶ৎ jus tagging random users <3 hope u enjoy!!!

@berrryparfait @lioria @babypetri @hyunlixwife @zuhaeri @c9tnoos @sylusbigapples @dollyswishingwell @sixeyedgodswife @celestialforce @syxlx @dana-nite @lacejinnie @thearynn @feralkuromi @destinysrequiem @thesrtuggleisveryreal @orange-stars @mocha-the-muse @usertala @kpop-and-otome @serendididy @zephilyr @ywnzn @a-jynx @elitheidiot1 @almondtofuus @goldenroses @esspeon @froleineeeee

[kiskivmiske]

Also

Jackass (penguin)

Bastard Eel

Sneezeweed

Bladderwort

Nipplewort

Shagbark

Best of all is the implication that dragon language and human language are different and what we read is the translation from dragon to human.

Dragon: "I mean, it's a normal name. At least three dragons in my ancestry had it. But if that's too long for you, just call me Nipple!.... Why are you laughing? It doesn't mean anything weird in your language?"

Human: (trying the best not to laugh)

Dragon, half crying: "IT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING WEIRD, DOES IT?!"

Reminder that these names are valid according to the naming system of dragon tribes:

Tit (a bird)

Booby (a bird)

Sperm (a whale)

Penis (a fish, no joke called a penis fish)

Weed (plant)

Woodcock (bird)

Dickcissel (bird)

Slippery Dick (fish)

.

[mountaingutta]

Some headcanons about my favorite aliens (TFP)

Orion tease Megatronus about the shape of his helmet.

Megatronus constantly teases Ratchet about his height. One day, as revenge, Ratchet unscrewed his legs while he was asleep.

Before the war, many well-known Decepticons and Autobots were on the Senate's “elimination list.” Naturally, both Optimus and Megatron topped it.

Most bots either deactivated or completely removed their reproductive systems during the war. They did it to install new upgrades, make the frame faster, stronger, and remove an unnecessary component that was draining body energy. For some, those systems were severely damaged.

Ratchet sing serenades under Orion's window, maneuvering on the Cybertronian equivalent of a motorcycle while playing guitar.

Orion tells everyone Alpha Trion found him in a dumpster. In truth, he was discovered in an abandoned temple deep in a forest, feral and surrounded by a pack of cyber-wolves. When Ratchet asked why he keeps spreading the dumpster story, Orion replied "Jazz and Ariel find it funny" - "Because the three of you share half a processor between you"

Ratchet and Ironhide welded Jazz to the ceiling at least once.

Ratchet ran away from home to study in Iacon. He didn’t return until after he’d earned his medic’s license.

When Ratchet introduced Orion to his family as his partner, every single one of them threatened him to treat Orion well.

Miko loves learning foreign languages. In the future, she'll either become the best pilot in the world, one of the most renowned linguistics experts — or both.

She has three dads — a caring one, a crazy one, and a strict stepdad who doesn’t know he’s her dad yet.

Arcee is obsessed with anything shiny.

Ratchet used to call Orion “dolly”

During the war, Megatron put a bounty on every Autobot medic. As for Ratchet, he ordered him taken alive or, if killed, to bring him his hands.

Jack runs a food blog. At first, it was supposed to be just a fast-food blog — but Jack quickly realized he gets enough of that at work. Optimus suggested he explore traditional dishes from different countries and turn the blog into that instead. They are researching this together.

One of his followers asked why he chose that particular topic for the blog, and Jack, without thinking, said, “My dad suggested it…” Then he just "Wait! no — I meant this one dude... "

Soundwave plays a video game on the Nemesis mainframe. He has a nemesis in-game with the username “Needawrench12.3/4.” It's Raf.

During the game, Soundwave tries to use typical insults like "I'll fuck your mother". And when Raf reads this, he looks at Ratchet and writes back "Your dick won't last."

[boopiemadz]

Dear Owl, Love Sparrow.

Summary: Years ago, they were two students writing anonymous letters under the names "Sparrow" and "Owl." Through words alone, they fell for each other. Now, working side by side at the FBI, neither of them knows they’ve already loved each other once before. When fragments of their old letters turn up at crime scenes, everything comes back - and the truth changes everything.

In college, you were part of a psychology experiment - a correspondence study meant to test intimacy through anonymity. Each student was paired with a stranger from a different school. You, at Columbia University, were told you'd be paired with a student from Caltech. The project was funded by a cross-campus research grant on emotional intimacy through language. You signed your letters "Sparrow." Your partner signed his, "Owl."

The letters started formally - discussions of books, fears, dreams, and ideologies. The first letter you received was short, no more than two paragraphs. He introduced himself simply: Owl. He said he liked libraries, maps, silence, and things that made other people uncomfortable. You remember reading his letter in your dorm, beneath a lamp that barely lit the corners of your desk, and smiling for the first time in days.

You wrote back: brief at first, nervous. Told him you didn’t like the word "lonely" but often felt it. That you believed in ghosts - not supernatural ones, but emotional echoes. You talked about old poetry. About T.S. Eliot and grief. About your mom’s music collection and why you never slept with the door closed.

His reply was longer.

And from there, it took off. The letters became your ritual. Wednesday mornings were for envelopes tucked into the red campus mailbox. Saturdays were for hiding in your dorm to read his words alone. You never missed a week. It became real. It became sacred.

Owls handwriting was precise. He drew diagrams when he didn’t have the words, sketched out ideas in half-maps and graphs. His tone was painfully sincere. Sometimes fragmented. He confessed he hated the way people pitied him for being smart. That sometimes his thoughts moved too fast for his mouth. That he memorized everything and still felt like nothing stuck.

You wrote back that you felt unmoored, too. That the world often moved without your permission. That you didn’t know who you were supposed to be but felt safer telling him anyway.

You never met. Never spoke. The rules of the study forbade it. But there was something intoxicating in the not-knowing. You imagined Owl in pieces - his fingers ink-stained, maybe. His dorm filled with books. You pictured him sitting on the floor of a silent library, headphones in, scribbling thoughts he couldn't say aloud.

Then, with no warning, the letters stopped.

No goodbye. No explanation. You waited three months before you gave up.

You kept every one of his letters. Bundled by twine, in an old shoebox. You finished school. Took the FBI exam. Worked your way through the field, quiet and capable. You never forgot the mysterious stranger you found yourself falling for. You stopped waiting, but never forgot.

Years later, you’re at Quantico, sitting in a conference room across from Dr. Spencer Reid. You’ve worked with him for over a year. He’s strange. Brilliant. Guarded. But kind, in his own awkward way. You’ve always felt something around him - like you’ve known him longer than time allows.

The file on the table is grim. Three murders in Southern California. One victim posed with a cracked mirror. Another with a string of symbolic items: a chess piece, a pinecone, and a library card from Caltech’s main archives. All of them professors or scholars. All of them staged with purpose.

"There are notes," Hotch says. "Poetic phrases found written next to the bodies. None of them traceable to published work."

Garcia clicks through slides. The fourth reads: "To find truth, one must go alone into the dark." You freeze.

You wrote that. To Owl. In your sixth letter.

The room fades out for a second, the air too thin. You pull your attention back thinking, it must be a coincidence.

Later, after a long jet ride, you review the files alone in your hotel. You find another note photographed next to one of the victim’s: "Ghosts speak loudest to those who never stopped listening."

Letter twelve. Yours.

You don't sleep that night.

Over the following days, more letters appear in and around places the victims routinely visited - echoes from your past in the mouths of the dead. The phrases are too exact to be coincidental. Someone has copies of your letters. But how? And why?

At first, you try to convince yourself it’s an impossible coincidence. But when the third victim was positively identified to be one of the co-researchers on the original project, your stomach drops. Dr. Cho. Missing for two months. Presumed dead. Now confirmed.

"What kind of experiment was this again?" Morgan asks. You glance up from the screen.

"Cross-institutional letter exchange," you say. "Students were paired based on psych profiles. Asked to write for three months anonymously."

"What was the control?"

"There wasn't one. The goal was to study how anonymity affects vulnerability and connection."

Spencer tilts his head. "That sounds... familiar."

You look up sharply. "Did you do it?"

"I was at Caltech. Second year. They pulled some of us for a writing study. We had codenames. I was... Owl."

It’s like the floor disappears beneath you.

You nod, slowly, guarded. "What do you remember about your pen pal?"

He shrugs, thoughtful. "She was poetic. Sad, I think. But brilliant. We wrote about libraries and grief. The nature of memory. I burned the letters after Gideon left. Didn’t want to remember how much they meant to me, holding onto the hope we would find eachother was too painful."

He doesn't recognize you.

You excuse yourself. You go back to your hotel room and open the shoebox you had brought with you once you realized what the quotes were from.

You read them. All of them. Your own handwriting, responding to his. His quiet observations. His drawings. The dream about walking a spiraling staircase and ending in a mirror. His frustration at being told he was too much, too intense. The way you once signed a letter: "If you’re ever a ghost, haunt me gently."

Two days pass before you tell him.

Not until another body is found - with an origami bird in her hand.

You find Reid on the steps outside the precinct. He’s drinking coffee, flipping through his case-notes. "I need to tell you something," you say. He looks up. Blinks. "Okay."

You sit beside him. "I was Sparrow."

He doesn't speak for a long moment. Just stares at you. Then blinks again, slower.

"From the experiment?"

You nod.

"You're..."

"Yeah."

He sets his notebook down slowly. "Why didn’t you say anything before?"

"I didn’t know it was you at first. And then when I did, I didn’t know if you’d want to know."

He exhales, hand to his temple. "I burned them, the letters. I regret that now. But I remember some things, most things, eidetic memory..."

Your voice is smaller than you intend. "Someone’s using our letters. Just ours."

"The unsub must have accessed the electronic archive they entered every letter in, it was created to keep track of the results... he must have been one of the moderators for the project who got a little too attatched to you..." he says. "But that doesn’t explain the origami. That wasn’t in the letters."

"No," you whisper. "That was just us. I folded one into the last envelope. He- well I guess you, never responded."

He goes quiet again. "I didn’t get that one."

You look at him. "That’s why you stopped writing. He must've intercepted my last letter before it got to you."

The trap was set. You draft a new letter together. You write it by hand. He adds notes in the margins. It’s strange - working side by side with the person who once only existed as black ink on cream paper.

You sign it: "Yours, still, Sparrow."

The reply comes in a matter of hours. A bound volume of your letters, printed out, annotated in red. Obsessive. Worshipful. Violent.

Inside is a single line: "He never deserved you."

The unsub sets the stage in his response - a private library close to the precinct you were working out of. He wants you to come alone. One last letter. One final act.

You walk through the stacks like you’re underwater. Every wall echoes. Every breath feels borrowed. The unsub waits, hands gloved, holding your letters like scripture.

"You were Sparrow. You were mine."

"You never even knew me," you say.

"But I read everything. I saw you."

"You saw what I gave someone else."

"He wasted it. He burned it."

You stare him down. "I forgive him."

The signal is given. The team bursts in. Reid tackles the unsub himself.

Weeks had then passed since the chaos settled, since the unsub was caught and the shadows of your shared past briefly lifted.

Then, the package arrived.

It was unassuming, wrapped in brown paper, the edges frayed like an artifact from a forgotten time. No return address. You peeled it open with a slow reverence, your hands trembling just slightly, as if handling something sacred.

Inside lay a leather-bound notebook, worn at the edges, the supple cover faintly scented with old books and ink. You traced your fingers over its spine, a shiver rippling through your chest.

You opened the cover.

"For Sparrow, between the past and this moment."

The dedication was written in Spencer’s precise, looping handwriting. Ink slightly faded, but every word vivid as if whispered directly to you.

The notebook rested on your lap, its leather cover worn soft by time and countless nights spent open on Spencer’s desk or his favorite café table. This was no longer the stranger of distant letters - these were poems written for you, the woman he worked beside every day, the woman whose presence unsettled and inspired him in equal measure.

Each page felt like a secret unfolding.

“I watch you from the edges of crowded rooms, The way you tilt your head when lost in though., A careful quiet broken only by laughter. That slips like sunlight through autumn leaves.”

You traced the words, imagining the countless moments he observed you - unnoticed, unspoken, the way he pieced together fragments of you like clues in his case files.

The poems turned inward, revealing his fears - his worries that his feelings might break the fragile balance between you.

“I fear the chasm between us, wide and deep, Built from silences and things unsaid. Yet I find myself reaching across the void, Yearning for something I cannot name.”

You could feel the tension in his words, the battle between wanting to protect himself - and wanting to let himself fall. Between the poems, his handwriting sometimes faltered, lines scratched out, rewritten, almost as if he doubted his own courage.

One poem was followed by a small drawing - a park bench beneath two sprawling oak trees, their leaves sketched with delicate strokes. You paused, heart quickening.

“If ever you find yourself lost in the crowd, Or weighed down by shadows too dense to bear, Know there is a place where the world grows still, A bench beneath oaks that hold whispered prayers.”

The imagery was unmistakable: the quiet park near the city’s edge, where you sometimes went to escape the noise and the weight of everything. You remembered those afternoons alone, the feel of rough bark beneath your fingers, the way the setting sun painted the leaves gold.

The poems grew bolder as the pages turned, each one a step closer to confession.

“I’ve fallen in love with the way you move through light, With the quiet strength that anchors storms inside. If only you knew the weight of my hope, You’d let me in, no longer denied.”

You paused again, fingers trembling slightly, heart beating unevenly as if the poems themselves were alive, pulsing with something urgent and fragile.

“I write these words in the hope they might reach you, Across the distance we pretend to keep. If you ever tire of shadows and want to find me, Look for the bench where silence and daylight meet.”

Your breath caught. The final poem was folded carefully at the back, sealed with a faint imprint of a purple Sparrow and an illistration of a red Owl.

You read it over, letting the lines settle:

“When the dusk drapes the sky in amber hues, And the world softens into whispered truths, Come find me where the oaks embrace the breeze, Where two souls may speak beyond words and pleas. I am waiting, not as a shadow or name, But as a man who has loved you just the same.”

Your fingers closed the notebook gently, your heart pounding with anticipation.

You knew where he meant. The park. The bench. Tomorrow at dusk.

The next evening, as the sky softened from gold to rose and the breeze stirred the leaves with quiet whispers, you approached the park. Your steps slowed, breath catching as your eyes fell on the familiar figure seated beneath the spreading branches of the oak.

There he was - the man whose words had cradled your heart, whose silent love had shaped so many quiet moments.

You stood frozen, the world narrowing until it was only the two of you, breath mingling with the fading light.

And then your eyes met.

Spencer stood just a few feet away, eyes fixed on you, searching for words that had taken him years to find. His voice was low, steady, carrying the weight of everything he’d held inside.

“I loved her,” he began, voice a little rough, “Sparrow. Even when I didn’t know who she was, even when it was just letters on paper. I loved her words - the way she spoke of loneliness, hope, pain... how she saw the world. Somehow, through the distance and the silence, I felt connected to her, like she was the only person who really understood what it meant to feel broken but keep going.”

He swallowed, his eyes never leaving yours. “And then... I started noticing you. Not as Sparrow. Just you. The way you looked when you were thinking about something too complicated to say out loud, the way your laughter filled a room, the way you carried your quiet strength. I realized I was falling for you.”

You felt your chest tighten as his words settled over you. His vulnerability, so rare and precious, wrapped around you like a soft shield.

“And now,” he said, taking a hesitant step closer, “here you are. Both the writing I once knew and loved, and the girl I've found myself day to day captivated by. And I love you. I love you - more than I ever thought I could love someone.”

You swallowed hard, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Your voice was quiet but certain. “I loved him too. Owl. Even before I knew you were him. I loved the way he thought, the way he cared so deeply but hid it behind numbers and facts. I thought he was unreachable, and I was scared to fall for someone I didn’t know. But I did. I fell for you - without even knowing it was you.”

Your gaze softened, and you reached out, your fingers brushing his cheek. “And now you’re here. Real, in front of me. And I love you too.”

Spencer’s breath caught, his lips parting slightly. Slowly, with the gentleness of a whispered prayer, he leaned in. Your lips met - soft at first, tentative, savoring the moment as if making sure it was real.

Then the kiss deepened, passion blooming between you, years of longing and unanswered questions melting away in the warmth of shared breath.

When you finally parted, your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the cooling air.

You smiled, with a quiet confidence of someone who’d waited a long time. “I was hoping... you'd come home with me.”

His eyes widened in surprise and delight. “I’d like that. More than anything.”

You slipped your hand into his, fingers lacing tightly with his own.

He pulled you gently into his side as you walked away from the park, the night unfolding around you like the beginning of everything you both had waited for.

A/N-

Im SO insanely proud of this dude. I feel so creative when Im usually void of original ideas :/ anyways lmk how you like this!

[kokii-omii]

Ooh I got a question, if it wasn't asked before :D

I know Twisted Wonderland is its own world with its own countries but what would be your ocs ethnicities if twst had the irl countries? (I hope what I said makes sense, english isn't my first language)

im basing some of them off of vibes but also the actual places the movies theyre from are based on

most of them are painfully white i fear, but they're all different flavors of white boy

Maddie is unfortunately British

i like to think Lucien is waisan, specifically half white half Singaporean

Pan is greek

Peyn is also greek but half french due to grandma

little mermaid is based on Denmark so Viri is danish along with leo and the twins

the emperor's new groove is based on the incan empire so there's that for Krohn and Ezmond but id also say Ezmond is Colombian and Krohn is Mexican+Filipino because i say so

Razi is confusing cuz Aladin is like a mix of several middle eastern countries and the original story being Chinese doesn't help but yk what I'll just say he's half Arab half Chinese (because he is just mao mao in my head)

[pizkwat1]

that matorans even have gender is really very strange

consider that, with scarce few exceptions -- we are talking about perhaps a half-dozen individuals among thousands of named characters -- a matoran of a given element will always be the same gender. that is, all water matoran are female, and all earth matoran are male. consider next that matorans do not reproduce sexually. now, the astute among you will already be asking "huh, then you'd expect the matorans to understand what we call biological sex as just an aspect of element. fire matoran are red, air matoran are green, water matoran have ovaries." and i henceforth present more reason why this should be the case:

all but a few of the elements are male-exclusive. of the six most prominent matoran elements during the events of bionicle, only one is female (water). what reason, then, would matorans have to use a different set of pronouns for ga-matorans than for all other matorans?

in addition to not reproducing sexually, according to bionicle's primary writer greg farshtey (although this conflicts with the work of some other writers), matorans and bionicles in general are completely aromantic. and, in fact, since they were genetically engineered, matorans have no reproductive organs whatsoever, and indeed do not seem to be at all sexually dimorphic except for their voices! whatever differences exist between a male and female matoran are negligible compared to the differences between different elements

though other species have more even gender splits than the 5:1 male:female matorans, metru nui and especially mata nui are very very isolated from other species. and, each species in the great spirit robot has their own language, which they have had 100,000 years to develop. why would the matoran language have binary gendered pronouns, and not, say, senary? why would the matorans of mata nui have any concept of binary gender, outside of maybe some obscure medical trivia about ga-matorans?

as i understand it the great beings (the creators of the great spirit robot and the matorans and other creatures inhabiting him) (who had sex and gender that worked basically how contemporary humans' does) set up male and female among bionicles to basically be a personality thing? they determined that the female personality-type was more effective at carrying out the tasks of a water or sonic matoran, and male personality-type was more effective at carrying out ice or stone tasks? but, like, that doesn't make any sense, because there's like, lots of variation in personality within each of these two gender groups to the extent this division doesn't seem to actually exist

contemporary human binary gender-signifier behaviors are either not engaged in at all by any matorans (wearing certain clothes, wearing makeup, playing europa universalis 4) or are engaged in equally by matorans of "both" genders (contact sports, sewing, cooking, fishing)

what exactly possessed them to write a fantasy universe totally divorced from our own, where not a single element of any kind of masculine-feminine dichotomy exists, and where there is a very strong hexachotomy, and just say there's a masculine-feminine binary anyway even though we can all clearly see there isn't?, and only one of the six actual genders is "feminine"???????? why not three and three?????????

i suppose the devil's advocate argument would be that, if "he" and "she" are elements of language, and the language is carried by the voice, and the primary difference signifying male versus female matorans is their voices, then it almost makes sense to have different pronouns for a different sort of voice?

Do with these what you will

[oretskov]

　　　　⸝⸝ THIS PLACE 　 WILL BURN YOU UP ⸝⸝

　fred & george never thought the charms expert they decided to befriend would be the mastermind behind their future joke shop — but it made sense. for if they were going to bring the charisma and guts to pull this off, they needed the 'brain' too.

　　　spells / future products (for www) that i've created 　 hogwarts dr !

　　⋆　　BAT'S VERY OWN INVISIBILITY CHARM ·˚

　　　　not to be confused with the already existing invisibility and disillusionment charms, this spells works a little differently. with the incantation of "luminis abscondere!", the charm works by combining the science of light refraction with the concept of hiding or vanishing — creating the effect of invisibility by manipulating light. it invokes both the bending of light and the absense of reflection to ensure no light is bouncing off the object, rendering it unseen.

　　　　how is it different? the original invisibility charm only creates a field of invisibility around the charmed object. as for the disillusionment charm, it hides the objects by causing them to blend into surroundings. bat's special charm helped with the creation of the twins' headless hats, which made the wearer's entire head invisible.

　　⋆　　WALKIE-TALKIE CHARM ·˚

　　　　by saying, "sonus cuniculi!", sound is enhanced by bending the way sound waves travel — amplifying their clarity or extending their range. it also masks sound by distorting sound waves or interfering with them to prevent them being heard at all. imagine an almost intangible, cylindrical tunnel — it starts from one's mouth and ends right by another's ear.

　　　　it inspired the magical item, extendable ears, but bat still argues that her idea is the better option. being a half-blood allows her to get the best of both worlds, for she can incorporate muggle science and technology into wizard magic.

　　⋆　　THE LOVE LANGUAGE QUILL ·˚

　　　　it's a completely functional quill, except, instead of a particular letter being written, a tiny heart will be drawn. the letter only depends on this first initial of the user's crush's name. for example, 'i am in l♡ve with ♡tis.' hearts instead of o's. subtle yet revealing, the enchanted quill helps its owner uncover hidden feelings and unspoken affections, guiding them toward who they truly care about. just don't let bat herself use it, because instead of the 'o' for oliver wood she'd be expecting, it might just be an 'f' or 'g'.

　　　　the drawbacks? not all letters of the alphabet look good when replaced with a heart. try not to use this for formal matters, for the receiver may not understand if "d♡ck" means duck, dock, deck or— yeah, you get it.

　　　　it would be sold under the wonderwitch line in weasleys' wizard wheezes. don't worry, ladies — bat handles this production line. you'd think she'd let two tall man-children make them? "why would a man be there?!" nah, these are products made for girls made by a girl. of course, this comic book nerd would name this line after wonder woman — the coolest woman ever !

　　　 　 　　　 　 　　　 　 　THE DRAFTS

　　⋆　　THE ANYWHERE-YOU-GO CHILI FLAKE SHAKER ·˚

　　　　the name could use some work, but so could the charm in itself. her current expedition is finding a way to spice her food up 'anywhere she goes'. being south asian, her spice tolerance is through the roof — and the bland, unseasoned foods of great britain barely satisfy these tastebuds.

　　　　unfortunately, gamp's law of elemental transfiguration explains that food cannot be conjured out of thin air. she could carry a speck of a chili flake everywhere she goes, though not only is that inconvenient, but multiplying pre-existing food would decrease it's nutritional properties. in simple words, the chili flakes wouldn't even be that spicy.

　　　　see how bat is stumped here?

[hanjifangirlie]

Love wanted

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Pairing: hyunminsung x fem!reader

Warnings: Use of explicit language, smut, unprotected p in v, foursome, orgasm denial, pet names (mostly babygirl), oral (f receiving), anal, getting caught.

(I think that it)

Summary: reader is playing "never have I ever" with her dorm mates,and says she hadn't made love in her life.

MDNI!(Not that u will listen but anyways)

_______________________________________

It was a rainy afternoon in Seoul. She was sitting on the couch, just scrolling through tiktok. Suddenly, you heard the door open. Your dorm mates, Hyunjin, Minho and Jisung entered the dorm, holding some grocery bags.

"Hey y/n! How are you doing?" Jisung asked happily.

"Good! What did you guys buy?"

"Eh, y'know. Ice cream, bread, coffee, and some pudding for Minho." Hyunjin answered.

"I am kinda bored. Leave the bags on the kitchen table and come sit with me."

She heard them walk to the kitchen and leave the grocery bags on the kitchen counter, before entering the living room. They sat on the couch beside her and got comfortable.

"Do you guys want to play 'never have I ever'?" Jisung asked.

"Yeah,sure."

Hyunjin spoke first. "Never have I ever, stolen my friends clothes."

They all put a finger down. Then was her turn.

"Never have I ever made love."

Hyunjin, Minho and Jisung put a finger down, but she didn't.

They all looked at her shocked. Jisung spoke first.

"What do you mean? You're not a virgin."

"Fucking and making love is not the same thing."

"That's true. It's not the same." Hyunjin said.

"Are you being serious right now? You have never made love before?" Minho was flabbergasted. (heh)

"Yeah, I've never made love before. My exes were...quite disappointing. Anyways, I'm kinda tired and sleepy, I'll head to bed."

"Okay, good night y/n." They answered. She stood up from the floor, heading to her bedroom to get your pajamas. She wore them,and walked to the common bathroom to wash her teeth and brush her hair. As you were returning to her room , she saw Minho, Hyunjin and Jisung waiting outside of the door.

"What are you guys waiting for?"

"You said that you haven't made love. We wanted to change that." Hyunjin said.

"It's not fair for you all your relationships to be fucked up." Jisung spoke second.

"So... you want to have sex with me? All together?"

"Yeah,if you are okay with it." Minho answered.

"Oh,uhm..."

"It's okay if you don't want to." Hyunjin spoke again.

"No, it's not that. I do want to...but I've never done it with more than one person.

"It's okay, it's simple. You don't have to do anything differently." Minho answered. Hyunjin was already sitting on her bed, his hand rubbing against his half hard cock. Jisung leaned in and kissed her softly, while he started running his hands up and down on her body. Minho picked her up and threw her on the bed , while Hyunjin took off his t-shirt.

Minho hovered above her, his hands roaming under her shirt, caressing her lower back. Then, she grabbed the fabric and took off the shirt, throwing it on the floor. Hyunjin stood up and did the same, as Jisung was unbuckling his belt, and unbuttoning his jeans, making them fall down. By that time, Minho had took off her bra, now teasing and sucking on her nipples. Jisung tugged two fingers on each side of her shorts, silently asking her for permission. As soon as she nodded,he immediately took them off, leaving her only in her soaked panties.

"Already so wet for me, babygirl?" He spoke in a low voice before starting licking her pussy through the wet fabric.

Hyunjin started kissing her passionately, and leaving love bites all over her collarbone, while Minho stroked his hard dick. Jisung took off her panties finally, and continued licking her soaked core. She could feel her orgasm coming, and her moans became more intense and louder.

"You close, babygirl? Hold it for me, just a little." Said Jisung.

"Ji...I...I can't...I'm super close..." she gasped.

"Just a minute,baby. Just a minute."

"Jisung. Move." Minho interrupted Jisung.

"But, hyung, I haven't got in yet." He pouted,his quokka cheeks making him look adorable.

"It's my turn now. You've been between her legs for too long." insisted Minho.

Jisung moved, and Minho got in position between her legs, rubbing his tip against her clit,and her entrance. He lined himself up, and entered. A loud moan escaped her lips, making Hyunjin shiver in desire.

His thrusts were intense,and made her feel incredible.

"Hyung, pick her up. That ass had been calling me for a while now." Hyunjin said, staring at her.

Minho picked her up just a bit, making room for Hyunjin, as he applied a bi of lube on her asshole, and entering. She cried in pleasure, the feeling of two noticeable big cocks inside her being overwhelming and perfect at the same time. In the meantime, Jisung was kissing her and eating her moans.

Suddenly,the room door opened. Chan took a look at the room.

"Well, I was looking for my charger, but you guys probably haven't seen it, so... just use protection." He said.

Hyunjin, Minho, Jisung and y/n were stunned. Chan just closed the door and went to look for his charger.

"Um.. should we continue,or..."

You looked up just to see the three guys being a mess. All three of them had cummed, making the whole bed a mess.

"Uh...I think not." Jisung said.

They all just continued laying on the wet bed, too tired to even talk, until Minho spoke.

"We should probably go shower."

They all nodded and murmued something like "yeah...".

"We should do it again sometime." Said Jisung.

_______________________________________

Disclaimer: this DOES NOT have to do with the real stray kids, this was only written for entertainment.

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Tag list: @i-narizaki @twinkoffloptropica