#clumsy reader

[heldbybarnes]

In Case of Fire, Blame Her

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: Language, mild injury, accidental explosion (oops), chaotic energy, fluff so thick you’ll get a cavity.

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The first time you stapled your own hand to a mission file, Tony Stark banned you from touching office supplies for two weeks. The second time, which involved a malfunctioning toaster, a flamethrower prototype, and a perfectly innocent bagel, you were almost escorted off the compound by the fire department.

“Is she okay?” Sam whispered to Natasha, watching from the hallway as you tried—and failed—to walk through automatic doors that hadn’t opened yet.

“She tricked the doctor so bad, I don’t know how she even passed a psych eval,” Natasha muttered back, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“I heard she once asked a Hydra agent if they wanted a Capri Sun mid-fight,” Sam said.

“That one’s true,” Steve added, voice low and deeply confused. “She handed it to him. He took it. They both just… drank in silence for a minute.”

“…Why hasn’t Bucky killed her yet?” Bruce asked, utterly baffled.

“He’s so calm with her,” Clint added. “It’s unsettling.”

And Bucky? Bucky just stood in the doorway with his arms folded and a small, contented smile on his face.

Because that was you. His little whirlwind. Chaotic. Clumsy. Utterly unhinged.

And he loved every second of it.

“Bucky, baby, you might want to come look at this,” you called sweetly from the garage.

The last time you’d used that exact tone, he’d walked in to find a robot vacuum trying to eat your sock while you were wearing it, a spilled jar of peanut butter on the floor, and you sobbing because you’d “betrayed your foot.”

He stepped into the garage with reasonable caution.

“What did you do?” he asked calmly.

You were standing in front of a very dead-looking motorcycle, grease on your nose, hair tied up with… was that a zip tie?

“I was trying to ‘soup it up,’” you said with finger quotes. “You know. Like Vin Diesel.”

“…You don’t know how engines work.”

“Exactly! I was learning! But then I touched this thingy and the wires sparked and now it smells like a marshmallow.”

The bike gave a sad clunk sound before billowing smoke.

You grinned up at him, sheepish and glowing. “Surprise?”

Bucky sighed, walked over, kissed your greasy forehead, and said, “You’re not allowed near anything with an engine again without supervision.”

“Okay, but what if I was the supervision?”

“No.”

At breakfast the next day, you walked into the kitchen with unmatched socks, sleep hair that defied physics, and a toaster under your arm.

You slammed it down proudly in front of the team.

“I fixed it!” you announced.

“No,” Bucky said immediately, standing to intercept whatever chaos was about to happen.

“Babe, trust me,” you said, hand to heart. “I rewired it using science and a little bit of hope.”

“That’s what you said about the Roomba that learned how to scream.”

“That was artificial intelligence gone too far, not my fault.”

Bucky very gently removed the toaster from your grip, handed you a plate of waffles, and said, “Sit down and eat before you set the fire alarm off again.”

Sam watched with wide eyes. “He’s so patient. It’s unnatural.”

The compound was full of chaos daily—missions, training, interrogations. But your kind of chaos? It was its own breed.

Like the time you brought home a baby goat because “he looked like he needed a mentor.” You named him Gary. Bucky helped you build him a tiny barn in your shared room.

Or the time you tried to dye your hair and somehow turned it—and Bucky’s beard—purple.

He’d just blinked at the mirror and said, “Well, guess we’re a matching set now.”

The rest of the team had started placing bets on how long it would take before Bucky cracked.

But he never did.

Not even when you burned a hole through your tactical gear by “testing the flamethrower glove backwards.”

Not when you broke three fingers trying to open a stubborn pickle jar by smashing it against the wall.

Not when you tried to learn archery and accidentally shot a flaming arrow into Tony’s wine cellar.

One day, you wandered into the living room holding a pair of scissors, a juice box, and a kitten.

No one knew where you got any of those things.

“Bucky,” you said, tugging at his sleeve, “can we get a trampoline?”

Natasha leaned toward Steve. “Do not let her have a trampoline. She will attempt flight.”

You blinked at Nat. “I literally already did. Last week. Off the couch. I wore the Captain America helmet and everything.”

“Why do you own that?” Steve asked, already regretting the question.

“To feel safe.”

Bucky was already pulling you gently away from the scissors and kitten, murmuring, “We’ll talk about the trampoline, doll.”

The second you left the room, Steve muttered, “She’s gonna kill him one day.”

But Bucky just wrapped an arm around you and kissed your temple. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s build a pillow fort instead.”

You gasped. “With fairy lights?!”

“Of course.”

Later that night, the two of you were tangled in that fort—blankets everywhere, your head on his chest, popcorn bowl half-empty between you.

“Why do you put up with me?” you asked suddenly, chin resting on his chest.

Bucky blinked, turning to face you, metal fingers playing lazily with your hair.

“Put up with you?” he echoed.

“I mean… I almost burned down the armory. Twice. I broke Steve’s shield holder thingy. I got banned from three vending machines this month. Everyone probably thinks I’m a walking hazard.”

Bucky smiled, soft and warm, like you’d just said the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

“Sweetheart,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You bring life into every room you walk into. You’re unpredictable and bright and fearless in a way most people only wish they could be. You make me laugh. You make me feel alive.”

You blinked up at him, eyes wide and shiny.

He continued, “I spent so long with silence in my head. Violence. Routine. You crash through all of that. Like a wrecking ball.”

“Like Miley Cyrus?”

“Exactly like Miley Cyrus.”

You snorted, and he kissed the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t love you despite the chaos,” he whispered. “I love you because of it.”

The next morning, the fire alarm went off.

Again.

“I JUST WANTED TO TRY FRENCH TOAST,” you screamed over the wailing siren.

Bucky calmly walked in, lifted the smoking pan from the burner, and handed you a glass of juice.

“Drink this. I’ll make the toast.”

You pouted. “Was it that bad?”

“You buttered the pan with caramel sauce.”

“Oh. That explains the flame part.”

Tony stormed into the kitchen, hair singed. “How the HELL is she still alive?”

“She has nine lives,” Bucky said with a grin, kissing your cheek. “And she’s all mine.”

Later That Week

You fell down the stairs (again). The whole flight this time.

The team rushed in—Steve looking ready to call a medic, Nat pulling out a field kit, Sam shaking his head like of course she did.

But you popped up at the bottom of the stairs, hair a mess, socks on the wrong feet, holding up a thumbs-up.

“I’m okay! My butt broke the fall!”

Steve groaned into his hands. “I give up.”

And Bucky?

Bucky walked over, helped you up gently, brushed your hair back, and said, “Did you finally learn to wear grippy socks?”

“...no.”

He just kissed your nose.

One night, during movie night, you curled up on Bucky’s lap, a blanket burrito around you. The rest of the team was in varying states of exhaustion, watching you through tired eyes.

You turned to Bucky mid-film and whispered, “I love you more than cheese.”

Clint coughed. “That’s a serious declaration.”

Bucky smiled, looked down at you, and whispered, “I love you more than silence.”

Everyone went quiet.

Even Tony didn’t have a comeback.

You blinked, then whispered, “We’re getting married. Immediately.”

He chuckled, arms wrapping tighter around you. “I already bought the ring, baby.”

They still don’t understand how you’re alive.

They still whisper about your psych eval.

They still stare every time you run head-first into trouble and come back grinning like a maniac with soot in your hair and bruises on your knees.

But Bucky?

Bucky’s never loved anything more.

Because some people bring peace.

But you?

You bring joy—feral, messy, beautiful joy.

And in a world that tried to break him a thousand ways, that’s the only kind of healing that ever really stuck.

[biscuits-and-gracie]

Trip and Fall in Love

summary: marcus can't understand how on earth this girl is supposed to be an assassin. characters: marcus lopez. clumsy! reader. warnings: none. word count: 1.2k

Marcus thought King’s Dominion couldn’t surprise him anymore.

He thought he’d seen it all - the goths, the punks, the cartel kids, the actual royalty of the criminal underworld. Every brand of psycho you could imagine sharpening knives in the hallways.

But then you burst into his life - literally.

It was his second week at King’s, and he was still getting his bearings. Memorizing which hallways were safe, which teachers might actually kill you for being late, which kids you absolutely didn’t want to owe favors to.

He was rounding the corner by the poison lab, head down, mind full of survival strategies-

-and then you smashed into him, hard enough to knock both of you sprawling.

"Shit!" he hissed, landing flat on his ass, his books skittering across the cracked tile floor.

You landed face-first beside him with a strangled little oof, your own bag exploding open, notebooks, pens, and a suspicious number of crumpled gum wrappers spilling everywhere.

Marcus blinked at you, stunned.

You groaned into the floorboards. "Ow. That was not stealthy."

He stared as you pushed yourself up, rubbing your forehead and squinting at him.

You didn’t look like you belonged here.

You were... bright. Not in a colorful way - you still wore the black uniform, black blazer, black converse that were a little scuffed up - but in a way that glowed out from the inside. Your eyes were too wide, too curious. You smiled too easily, like you hadn’t realized yet that doing that around here was basically waving a neon Target Me sign.

"You okay?" Marcus asked warily, gathering his books.

You grinned sheepishly. "I think I broke physics. Or my nose. One of those."

He blinked. Was this girl seriously making jokes right now?

You scrambled to collect your stuff, knocking over another kid’s pile of books in the process. The guy snarled and stomped off, muttering curses in Russian.

Marcus shook his head, amazed. "You’re gonna get eaten alive."

"Yeah, probably," you chirped, stuffing loose papers back into your bag with zero organization. "But hey, maybe I’ll trip and fall on someone important before they can stab me. Like, as a defense mechanism."

He couldn't help it - he laughed. Actually laughed, full and surprised, the sound bouncing off the cracked walls.

You lit up at that, beaming like you’d just won a prize.

"I’m Y/N," you said, sticking out your hand, smudged with ink and something that suspiciously looked like blood.

He stared at it for a second before shaking it cautiously.

"Marcus," he said.

You grinned wider. "Nice to meet you, Marcus. You wanna be my bodyguard?"

He snorted. "What makes you think I won't be the one you need protecting from?"

You shrugged, slinging your bag over your shoulder and nearly decapitating yourself with the strap. "I dunno. You laughed. That’s gotta mean something."

He watched you for a second longer - this chaotic, smiling, walking disaster of a person - and for the first time since he’d arrived at King’s Dominion, he didn’t feel the crushing weight of survival pressing so hard against his ribs.

Maybe it was the insanity of it. Maybe it was the fact that you clearly had no fucking idea what you were doing.

Or maybe it was just... you.

Either way, he found himself grinning, despite every better instinct.

"Yeah," he said, falling into step beside you as you headed for class. "Maybe I’ll keep you alive. Just to see what kind of mess you get into next."

You bumped into him again - completely by accident - and Marcus just laughed.

He had no idea what he was signing up for.

But somehow, he knew even then:

You were going to wreck his whole life.

And he was going to let you.

Later that day, Marcus found Billy and Lex hanging out at the graveyard, passing a blunt back and forth like it was any other apocalypse afternoon.

He needed answers. Fast.

He spotted them and jogged over, ignoring the way Lex immediately smirked when he saw Marcus’s face.

"You look like you just saw a ghost," Lex said, plucking the blunt from Billy and taking a lazy drag.

"Worse," Marcus muttered. "I met someone."

Billy perked up instantly. "Oh shit. What’s his name?"

Marcus shot him a look. "It’s a girl."

Lex made an exaggerated gagging noise. "That’s even worse."

Billy elbowed him, grinning. "Nah, man, let the poor dude talk. Maybe it's true love. Or, like, mutually assured destruction." He turned to Marcus with a gleam in his eye. "Spill it. Who’s the girl?"

Marcus ran a hand through his messy hair, pacing a little. "I don’t know her name. Well - I know her name’s Y/N. I just—" He paused, trying to find words. "She crashed into me. Like, full-on body slam. And then she tried to apologize by knocking over another kid's shit and almost broke her own neck with her bag."

Lex snorted smoke through his nose. "Sounds about right."

"And she asked me to be her bodyguard," Marcus added, voice climbing with disbelief.

Lex and Billy stared at him for a beat - then burst out laughing.

"Bodyguard?" Lex howled, doubling over. "Oh, my god, she’s gonna get you killed faster than anything at this school ever could!"

Billy wiped tears from his eyes, wheezing. "Bro. You found the human version of a banana peel."

Marcus folded his arms, scowling. "Seriously. Who is she? Why is she even here? She’s... she’s like a walking horror scene waiting to happen."

Billy shrugged, still grinning. "New recruit. Word is, her parents are small-time mobsters. Got caught up in some turf war in Jersey."

Lex chimed in, "They wanted to send her somewhere to ‘harden her up.’" He waggled his eyebrows. "Real good plan. Send a chick who trips over air to the deadliest school on earth."

Marcus stared at them.

"They sent her here to become an assassin?" he repeated, disbelieving.

Billy patted his shoulder solemnly. "The American Dream, man."

Lex smirked, nudging him. "You’re so screwed. You’re already soft for her, aren't you?"

Marcus opened his mouth to argue - but hesitated.

Because the truth was?

You had knocked into him like a wrecking ball. You had smiled at him like he wasn’t just another piece of meat in King’s Dominion’s grinder. And he had found himself wondering, even through all the chaos, what it would be like to actually have someone - something - to finally care about.

He clenched his jaw, ignoring the heat rising in his cheeks.

"I’m not soft," he muttered.

Lex and Billy immediately whooped, jeering like drunk pirates.

"He’s so soft!" Lex crowed. "Little marshmallow Marcus, gonna trip and fall in love with the girl who can’t even walk straight!"

Billy leaned in, grinning. "Better start practicing your first aid, bro. You’re gonna need it."

Marcus rolled his eyes, flipping them off - but inside, he knew it was already too late.

He was doomed.

And when he glanced across the graveyard and saw you laughing at something Petra said - backpack half unzipped, shoelace trailing, absolutely oblivious - Marcus felt a stupid, helpless grin tug at his mouth.

Yeah, he thought grimly. I’m so fucked.

[kitkait-writes]

Hi!!! I wanted to know how you think the dateables would react to the homeowner kicking or stubbing their toe on them as they walk through the house? Like Able, Dasha, Chairemi, Betty, Wallace, Dorian, and Dunk (on the dumbbell rack). I end up stubbing my toe often and it makes me so nauseous😭

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶ chairemi, betty, dunk x reader who stubs their toe

contains ;; gn reader, headcanons, some slight hurt/comfort

a/n :: i didn’t write for all of them bc i haven’t finished all the routes yet, but once i do i will make a part two!!

a/n 2 :: im pretty sure the dateables can move around the house (don’t quote me on that) but i also went w my own ideas on some details of how they are for this sake-

The objects aren’t right where their objects are at all times. They get to move around and things too! But, that doesn’t mean they can’t feel every time the clumsy houseowner gets stabbed in the side by Able or practically sees the afterlife when their toe hits Betty’s legs. But no matter that they feel it, they’re more concerned for you. Every time it happened, it seemed like you were gonna give up on life.

Chairemi loves performing, no matter the circumstances! Audience or no audience, other actors or not, and even when she feels the human’s hip harshly hit the side of the arm chair in the living room. She’s a busy woman and the show must go on though! But, she honestly can’t help but worry a bit when it happens for the 8th time that week. Morning, night, or noon; Chairemi feels a bump to her side which can catch her off guard.

When you got the dateviators, you’d remembered just how often you bump or hit the objects around you and, to be honest, felt pretty bad. (They all forgave you of course). And when you met Chairemi and became her scene partner, you’d made sure to apologize, which she happily accepted! Don’t worry though, the clumsiness did not stop, considering the fact you just bumped into the background pieces and fell to the floor.

Again, the show must go on! Well, after she takes you over to Farya- Celia and Florence can wait of course!

Having you be Betty’s beloved is definitely a test for her. Despite her human looks with the dateviators, that doesn’t dull down the sharp bed frame. She was surprised you’d never just completely fallen over from it, to be honest. She’s cared for you for years though, clumsiness or no clumsiness.

In this case, the dateviators certainly help. Despite having to do it a lot, at least now she can warn you before your little toe hits the metal leg. Most of the time, at least. If it happens anyway however, don’t fret. You can collapse on your bed and whine as long as you need while she strokes your hair. And despite the circumstances, this is one of Betty’s favorite forms of intimacy and closeness with you.

Dunk didn’t see you often. At all. He’s still waiting for your “inner athlete” to kick in! But, everytime he did see you, he could practically share your pain when your knee hit the metal of the dumbbell rack. He’d be watching you whine and jump around as he winced himself. This time he’s just glad you didn’t slip on the yoga mat… again.

Meeting you again was a blast when you got the dateviators! Encouraging you to try new stuff, find your thing! But, it wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Playing football? It hits you square in the chest and he rushes over to check on you. Badminton? The birdie hit you in the eye! Even yoga, your foot slipped and you fell flat on your back. Every hangout becomes a trip to Farya pretty quick. Maybe his goal shouldn’t be to find your inner athlete, but to teach you balance and awareness of your surroundings.

BONUS :: Farya!

Farya, of course, loves her job. A paper cut can easily become a bacterial playground and it’s her goal to stop that! And, whether for the best or worst(she can’t tell), she sees you practically daily. Sometimes accompanied by someone else, sometimes by yourself. How many bruises and warnings can you get though before it stops happening? Oh well. At the very least, it’s nice to sit next to you as your stomach slowly stops feeling like it’s turning rapidly.

Hope you enjoyed!! I’ll write the others after I finish their routes and things :3

[cyberkitty1]

RAFE X CLUMSY READER

a/n: you guys are being FED TONIGHT RAHHHH

rafe didn’t even flinch when he heard the crash from the kitchen. he just sighed, getting off the couch, and made his way toward the sound.

she was standing in the middle of the mess, wide-eyed and holding a broom like she had no idea what to do with it. broken glass glittered on the tile floor around her.

“before you say anything,” she started, pointing at him, “it was already slippery in here.”

“you spilled something didn’t you?” he asked crossing his arms.

“…maybe,” she mumbled, looking down at the floor like it might save her. “but honestly, who puts a glass pitcher on the edge of the counter? that feels like a trap.”

“you put it there,” he deadpanned, but there was no trace of heat in his voice.

she gave him a sheepish smile, shrugging. “okay, but still.”

he shook his head, grabbing the broom from her hands and starting to sweep. “you’re lucky i love you, you know that?”

“you say that like you wouldn’t be totally bored without me,” she teased, hopping up on the counter to stay out of the way. except, in true her fashion, she bumped her elbow on the cabinet and nearly knocked over yet another another glass.

“jesus christ,” rafe muttered, catching it before it could fall. “you’re a walking disaster.”

she grinned, swinging her feet. “yeah, but i’m your disaster.”

he rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but let the small smile tag at his lips. “yeah, yeah. just stay up there and don’t break anything else, okay?”

“no promises,” she chirped, leaning over to rest her chin in her hands as she watched him clean up her mess.

and rafe? he couldn’t even be mad. disaster or not, she was his favorite part every day.

[azialways]

The Killer Chat Lis with a very clumsy partner?

Falling for you!

oooh boy, as a very clumsy person, hell yes!

okay cw: spoilers to LIs routes, real names, brief descriptions of injuries,

goreboy (Ronin Beaufort):

makes fun of you RELENTLESSLY! will never let you live a specific moment he enjoys down. Will remind you all the time of your more embarrassing injuries or falls.

Will take good care of your injuries, but will tease you and bully you while doing it.

Will say things like “watch your step” or “Don’t die while you’re out” if you ever leave to go out on your own

If he ever trips or falls, he will always say “I pulled a _____”

laughs at you before helping

warns people to look out because there’s a falling hazard next to him.

Says you could’ve been an easy kill if he didn’t love you.

has pulled you out of oncoming traffic, it’s habit at this point

Angel (Maria De La Rosa)

would be very concerned at first, but gets used to it with time

treats your injuries well, will close up any wounds herself.

she will always have some sort of hold on you, making sure to catch you if you fall.

watches out to make sure you don’t run into something, or trip.

will call you a dork

scolds you and tells you to be more careful, but when you remind her that’s part of your charm, she agrees.

worries about you going places on your own, will want texts from you every step of the way to make sure you don’t die

safety proofs everything in her place

hitmeuppp (Misaki Katsuo)

They are equally as clumsy, so you have both fallen together.

Calls you a dork and a silly goose all the time

Every time you fall they always make the joke “falling for me already?”

Has no idea what they’re doing when it comes to treating injuries, so they have def called Angel or V to learn.

They will laugh at you before helping you

Clings on to you, and holds you tight so you don’t fall.

They have def cling too hard and made you trip.

Will tie your shoes for you if they notice they come undone.

K9 (Valentin Viljoen)

Used to think there was something neurologically wrong with you, so he took you to doctors, only to figure out you’re just clumsy.

Always walks with his arm around you, holding you in place.

“my love you must be more careful”

medically trained, so he will care for you like a royal. he knows his stuff.

has quick reflexes, so can grab you before you fall.

he got used to it, and now doesn’t even bother trying to fix it.

insists on walking down stairs first, and up stairs behind you.

will watch for anything you could trip on and warn you.

gets extremely hyper vigilant about things because he doesn’t want you to get hurt.

forces you to get checked out if things seem off with you.

[milaisreading]

Sae acts cold, arrogant, and egoistic but when the reader is around him he turns into a soft and gentle simp for her.

🌱🩷: Someone asked me to do a one shot of that one post I made abt Sae simping for Isagi's sister. So I might as well write it like this! Hope u like it!

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

"Sis, can we get these? Mom won't mind, right?" Yoichi wondered, pointing at the box of chocolate that he was holding. (Y/n) looked away from the list Iyo gave her earlier and at the item her brother was holding.

"Hmm I don't know. Didn't you have enough sweets already?"

"Please. I didn't indulge in them for months. Blue Lock is torture." Yoichi pleaded with her for a good minute until (Y/n) ended up sighing and nodding her head.

"Fine. Put it in." She said, showing him the basket.

"Thanks, sis. You are the best!" Yoichi cheered, causing (Y/n) to blush a little.

"Ahh~ me? No, I am not. Don't flatter me too much." She laughed a little, not noticing someone looking at them.

"Ah... You two are here?" (Y/n) and Yoichi jumped in surprise and turned to look at the familiar figure.

"Sae-san? What are you doing here?" (Y/n) wondered as Yoichi raised an eyebrow at that as well.

"Mom wanted us to visit some family friends here in Saitama. I just grew bored of her picking what to buy as a present." Sae shrugged, causing (Y/n) to laugh a little.

"Ah~ it's not easy to pick gifts."

"Wait, is Rin here, too?" Yoichi raised an eyebrow, earning a nod from Sae.

"Yeah. A few isles down." He pointed and Yoichi took off there. The two older siblings stayed rooted to their spots, blinking at each other for a moment.

"So... You are back from Spain." (Y/n) said, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Obviously."

"Hahaha..." The girl laughed nervously at his harsh tone.

"Oh! Looks! Uhm... beans... my mom wanted some..." (Y/n) said as she noticed the cans and went to pick up a few, which wasn'tthe best idea as they were high up and she hhad to tip toe. Sae stared at her back silently.

'Why is he so cold? And what am I going to do with beans?!' She thought while sweating.

'So adorable.' He thought. He was interrupted by a sudden crash being heard to his left.

"What..." He muttered and looked back, only to find that some guy had tripped and the things he was holding fell on the ground.

'Such an idiot. How can one be so stupid to trip on nothing? Losers all around-'

"Ow!" Sae turned to look back at (Y/n), who had fallen on the ground with a can of beans next to her. The boy's heart stopped beating for a moment as he noticed her frown.

'So adorable! She is so cute.' Sae felt his cheeks dust a bright pink as he observed her face.

'That frown... literally could give anyone diabetes.' Sae thought when a boy around their age approached her, extending his hand out in the process

"Miss, are you alright? Let me help you up-"

Before the guy could finish, Sae was already there, hand grabbing onto (Y/n)'s.

"I will help you. Mind your business." The boy looked at Sae and flinched as he noticed the glare.

"S-sorry."He said back as he quickly backed away.

"That was so weird." (Y/n) muttered.

"Yeah, weird." Sae said, going back to his usual stoic face as (Y/n) got up.

"Thank you,Sae-san. Sorry for embarrassing you like this-"

"You didn't. Accidents happen." The words and much softer tone from Sae startled (Y/n) a little.

"Uh... are you sure?" She asked nervously.

"Of course. Come on now. We need to look for our brothers." Sae hummed as he dragged her away.

'Her hands are so soft.' Sae thought as he looked down at the hand he was holding.

'Why is he glaring at my hand?!' She gulped in fear.

A week later...

'This is so awkward....' (Y/n) thought as she looked out of the window, trying to distract herself by looking at the snow falling. Now, why would she be distracting herself? Easy answer! Sae Itoshi was sitting right across from her, staring/glaring into her soul.

'Oh! He is probably mad that Yoichi still didn't agree on joining Re Al! Ahhh, poor me!' She cried inwardly.

'Ahh~ she looks even cuter today! (F/c) definitely suits her! My adorable angel! How can someone so clumsy be so graceful?' Sae put his had over his chest. Heartbeat on an all time increase.

"Here you go, sir, miss. Ice tea and hot chocolate. Enjoy." A waitress said, putting down the beverages.

"Ah! Thank you." (Y/n) smiled at the woman as Sae nodded his head.

'That smile! Nobody compares to it-'

"Ouch!"

"Are you alright?" Sae turned to the couple sitting to his right,curious as to what happened.

"Yeah, it's just that I burned my tongue on the coffee. I wasn't aware how hot it was." The man answered, clearly embarrassing by it.

'Can't these people think for themselves?! It's coffee! A hot beverage, of course it will be hot-'

"Aww, hot hot hot." (Y/n) silently chanted, putting her hot chocolate away. Sae, alarmed, turned to look at her.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah... I just burned my tongue on my hot chocolate." She laughed a little with a flushed face. Sae blinked at her for a moment.

'Ahh! Her cheeks look so adorable! It's alright, (Y/n). Let me help you! She is so cute, I could never be mad at her. It's the hot chocolate's fault anyways. Why was it so hot?' Sae glared at the beverage as he handed her his ice tea.

"Take a little bit of it. The cold will help your tongue."

(Y/n) blinked at it for a minute.

"But it's yours-"

"I don't care, drink it." Sae demanded.

"Ok." She said back, taking the cup and taking a few sips.

'You will be dealt with.' The pro-player thought, glaring at the abandoned hot chocolate.

"So... today's meet up wasn't about Yoichi?" (Y/n) wondered as both her and Sae walked down the street. The boy nodded for what felt like the 10th time. Usually, he would feel annoyed if he had to repeat himself, but that wasn't the case here.

'It's my fault, I should have been more clearer with my answers.' He thought, even if he said 9 times a clear 'no.'

"Oh... Then why did you invite me-" The girl cut herself off as she slipped on the ice. Closing her eyes, she was prepared to hit the ground, but instead felt two arms wrap themselves around her.

"Whew! That was close, are you hurt?" Sae thought, feeling his anxiety spike a little. Opening her eyes, (Y/n) looked up at him and shook her head.

"N-no, I am fine. Don't worry."

Sae nodded his head, keeping his arms still wrapped around her as they stood there in silence for a moment.

"Y-you can let go of me now." The girl said in embarrassment, and Sae was about to agree when something hit him.

'What if she slips again and falls for real?! What if someone pushes her to the ground?! What if she hits herself?! No! I can't let that happen!' The boy nodded to himself.

"What are you doing?!" (Y/n) exclaimed as Sae lifted her up into his arms as started carrying her.

"Just making sure."

"S-sure?! For what? S-Sae-san, this is embarrassing." (Y/n) said as her face turned a dark red.

'So adorable!!' Sae thought, ignoring the confused stares of the people around them.

'She is so soft~' He sighed, looking down at her dreamily.

[gatitties]

Smithereens

─Crusaders x reader [Stardust Crusaders]

─Summary: Everything you touch seems to be doomed to be torn to shreds, your clumsiness doesn't help matters, but the journey can't stop.

─Warnings: none

─ Luck follows you but you are faster.

─ Your hands seem to want to grab something at the least opportune moment, and of all the things that can happen, you always end up breaking what you touch.

─ You really think that one day you will break someone's bone by touching them.

─ Regardless of whether you have a stand or not, you end up breaking things.

─ The boys will be stressed seeing you break something in the middle of something important and attract the enemy's attention.

─ You're playing with Jotaro's patience, if you weren't a valuable member he would have kicked your ass for breaking some of his things.

─ Joseph won't stop making fun of you for that, this man will cry with laughter whenever you smash something, even if it's just a cookie.

─ Surely he tried more than once to throw you at an enemy in the hope that you would break them somehow.

─ Probably the only ones worried about your clumsiness are Avdol and Kakyoin, sometime you will break some part of your body yourself, in fact, your skin is already covered in bruises from crashing into furniture or objects.

─ Polnareff is in the middle, he makes fun of you and worries, he could use you as a wall if a stone goes towards him but he will help you if he sees that you step on your own pants.

─ Iggy stays far enough away from you, he won't even bother attacking you when he's in a bad mood, he knows he'll lose if you hold him.

─ They are definitely not putting their lives in your hands, at least, not if you have to hold them, they prefer to rest on the ground than in your hands.

─ Were you a destroyer of worlds in another life?

─ The good part is that you always have funny stories to tell about moments that were uncomfortable but now funny, you lighten the tension of the trip in these small breaks.

─ Jotaro scolds you a lot because before you can do anything you're already apologizing, it's not like it's your fault that the objects seem to come to life in your hands and self-immolate.

─ You're going to start using your feet to grab things as your problems continue.

─ Although it's just a joke, Polnareff will surely support you with the idea of using your feet instead of your hands.

─ They wonder if you can magically rebuild something that is already broken if you touch it, obviously it doesn't happen.

─ Kakyoin jokes that after the trip you will form a demolition company.

─ Be prepared for a lot of bets on what will be the first thing you break when you arrive at a hotel.

─ Sometimes you even apologize to enemies because you broke something of theirs that was unnecessary to determine the victory of the battle.

─ Joseph seriously thinks that if you die you will cause an explosion that will destroy everything around you.

─ But despite everything, they are happy to have you as a companion, despite your clumsiness and your unwanted destruction, you were reliable, determined and gave moments worth remembering in this adventure.

[hotwritergf]

I don't want to bother you, but can you please do one for Eddie where reader is really clumsy? Like, she trips on her on foot, loses balance and falls even when just standing still, always has bruises all over her body because she is simply an air-head and ends up hitting her face on a closed door, her knee on the corner of the table and falling in all the stupidest ways possible.

Bambi. Clumsy!Reader x Eddie Munson. Fluff. Blurb.

(You’re never bothering me. I love writing your requests! I hope this is okay!<3)

“You okay there Bambi? You’re walking like you’re on wheels, need a hand?” Eddie teases, chuckling as you clasp your arm around his. He’s not the strongest of guys but his arm does offer you support. You’re clumsy, always have been. Your dad used to say you ran before you learnt how to walk, that you’d never really been able to stand upright on your own two feet without wobbling. He wasn’t wrong. Your parents had gotten you tested for dyspraxia, but the test results came back negative. Put simply, you were just a klutz, in medical terms? You’re just a little unbalanced.

“I know, I know.” You sigh, lifting your pants up to your thighs, letting the air brush against your shins. “Look at my legs Teddy, three new ones and a grazed knee” Muttering the last of your words under your breath, ‘three new ones’ refers to the three bruises scattered across your right shin. Eddie has a tendency to draw lines around your bruised skin and make the blue-yellowish stains look like Saturn, sometimes drawing smiley faces of the Nirvana logo.

He peered down, analysing the new shiners. “Seriously, you gotta be more careful. We’ve spoken about this before, eyes where you’re going, not where you were.” He exaggerated, speaking in a sing-song tone as he chuckles again. “Remember that time you ran face first into the glass door when we were kids? You split your lip and I cried because you were bleeding. Wayne had to deal with you bleeding on carpet and I was in hysterics because I was so sure you were gonna die. From a split lip no less.” Eddie’s mouth twitches up into a smirk as he begins to let out a full belly laugh. He screws his face up, as bubbly giggles escape him lips from reminiscing, “yeah, Wayne said you felt the pain for me cus I didn’t shed a single tear.” You confessed, joining Eddie in the melody of laughter.

“What can I say? I’m weak for a damsel in distress.” Eddie tilts his head and bows theatrically, standing up and opening the top cupboard. He places his box full of first aid supplies from the medicine cupboard onto the floor, opening up the first aid kit. “Let’s get this graze cleaned up shall we? Can’t leave it, will get infected and puss will spurt out. Will be so gross.” He speaks, pouring antiseptic liquid onto a clean rag. “Okay! Okay, I know.” You chime in, clearly disturbed by the imagery. “Just be gentle Eds, please.” You pout a little, hiding behind your hands.

“You know me Bambi, I have magic hands. I’m practically your personal nurse.” Eddie joked, gently patting the rag over your grazed skin being sure to wipe out any dirt and debris. “Hands of an old woman more like.” You tease, stifling your giggles from behind your hands, not wanting to see your wound.

“If you say so, but so you know. I’ll always be here to patch you up. Our little klutz.” He smiles, beaming from ear to ear. Choosing to ignore your cheeky comment, because “you’ve been in the wars.” He gently slaps a band aid over your kneecap and rubs his palm over it to make sure it sticks to you properly. Eddie leans over and pries your hands apart so he can see your face properly. “All done. You’re all fixed up.” He sighs, rubbing his hand over your cheek.

“Thanks Eds, good time to mention I’ve decided to take up ice skating?” You giggle, watching his face drop into the most shocked expression you’ve ever seen. “Kidding!” You tease, throwing yourself at his chest and starting to wrestle each other on Wayne’s living room floor. You are always gonna be looked after by Eddie, your chosen big brother.

[dearstvckyx]

───────────────────────

Bucky Barnes x Clumsy!Roommate

───────────────────────

Imagine moving in with Bucky Barnes, and he quickly realizes you might just be the clumsiest person he’s ever met…

───────────────────────

It all started the day Bucky moved in with his new roommate, you. At first, he’d thought you were just a little absent-minded, but after the fifth (maybe sixth?) time he watched you trip over your own two feet while carrying a bowl of cereal, he started to catch on. You were the clumsiest person he’d ever met. And for Bucky Barnes, who’s lived nearly a century, that’s saying something.

You’re reading a recipe on your phone in the kitchen, brow furrowed, when Bucky feels that familiar prickle at the back of his neck. He doesn’t even have to look up from his book to know what’s about to happen.

“Hey, don’t turn around too fast,” he says without looking up.

“What do you mean—” And before you can finish, you knock your elbow into the spice rack, sending an avalanche of glass bottles toward the floor.

Somehow, Bucky is already there, catching the bottles before they shatter everywhere. You blink at him, wide-eyed. “How…?”

Bucky smirks. “Spider-sense.”

It becomes a bit of a running joke. Every time you drop a knife, trip over a cable, or nearly knock a pan off the stove, Bucky’s there. Like magic, he’s always just in the right spot to keep you from taking yourself out. He even starts calling you “Disaster Darling” under his breath.

One morning, you’re reaching for the top shelf, and he calls from the other room, “Don’t even think about it.” Sure enough, you wobble on tiptoes, but before you tip over, he’s there with a hand on your waist, steadying you.

“You always know, don’t you?” you ask, half-laughing, half-amazed.

“Darlin’, at this point, I’ve got your schedule memorized. 8 AM: trip over your own feet. Noon: almost set something on fire in the kitchen. 3 PM: stub your toe on the coffee table.”

You give him a playful shove. “That’s ridiculous!”

He shrugs, grinning. “Hey, don’t blame me if I know my roommate a little too well.”

He tries to act cool, but secretly? He loves being there to catch you every time. It makes him feel like he’s part of something normal, something real. And maybe one day, when he catches you for the hundredth time, his hand steady on your waist, he’ll let his fingers linger just a little longer. Maybe he’ll pull you close, just close enough for you to feel his heartbeat racing.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll realize that being your safety net was the best fall he ever took.

───────────────────────

Incident 1

You: reaches for something on the top shelf

Bucky: without even looking up “Careful.”

You: pauses mid-reach “I’m fine, Bucky. I’ve totally got this!”

Bucky: gets up and walks behind you, steadying you “You said that last time, and then I had to catch you and the spices before they seasoned our floor.”

───────────────────────

Incident 2

You’re in the kitchen, trying to make pancakes.

Bucky: walking in with a sigh “Alright, what’s burning?”

You: quickly turns “Nothing! I swear!”

Bucky: smirks, watching you almost drop the spatula from the freight of him coming into the kitchen “Sure, sure. Disaster Darling strikes again.”

You: “I am not that clumsy!”

Bucky: “Right, last week you didn’t trip over your own feet getting off the couch?”

You: mumbling “…that was different.”

Bucky: crosses his arms, laughing softly “Uh-huh.”

───────────────────────

Incident 3

One day, you’re reaching for something in the cabinet again.

Bucky: from the other room “Don’t even think about it!”

You: “How did you…?”

Bucky: appears in the doorway with that knowing smirk “I just know.”

It goes on like this. Every time you trip, stumble, or knock something over, he’s there. Sometimes he doesn’t even need to look. It’s like he has his own personal “you’re about to do something clumsy” radar. Sort of like a spider sense but a Bucky sense.

───────────────────────

Bonus

There’s this one time you almost fall off a ladder trying to hang up a picture.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, Bucky’s caught you by the waist, holding you steady. And maybe he’s holding you a little longer than he should, but you don’t seem to mind, leaning back with that flustered little smile.

Bucky: clears his throat, looking away “Try not to fall so much, alright?”

You: softly laugh “Guess I’m lucky I have you.”

And in that moment Bucky realizes he loves your clumsiness, he loves protecting you…

[etheyll]

hi could you do bruce wayne x clumsy reader? nothing in particular just do what you think is best!

bruce wayne content how could i say no?? i hope you enjoy anon <3

warnings: none unedited 927 words bruce wayne x clumsy! reader

bruce always has to be careful with you. he is usually a rather graceful man. he's had plenty of practice with batman, and despite how bulky he is, he can usually be pretty quiet and light on his feet. meeting you turns his whole world around.

you're boisterous. you're loud. you're energetic. it is one of the things bruce likes most about you. you are probably one of the most alive people he has ever met, and he likes it. he likes not brooding when he is around you. he likes the distraction you offer.

you have no idea he's batman. he really plans to keep it that way. but he can't help but worry about you. you're the clumsiest person he's ever met. tripping over your own feet, bumping into doorframes. and honestly, he's scared to leave you on your own.

it's one of the reasons he can't tell you who he is. it's better this way to keep you safe.

tonight, you're on bruce's arm at a gala. a famous goodwill bruce wayne party. the dress you wear is a soft red, hugging you so tightly you think you might pop. but bruce likes it. he makes that clear with one hand on the small of your back, thumb brushing along any exposed skin. it sends goosebumps crawling down your spine.

he's guiding you around party-goers, and you're stumbling along, your heels causing you great grief. "can't even walk straight, dear?" he whispers to you in a voice only meant for you. his arm wraps around you completely, and you're basically floating along with him now, barely walking at all.

one of your hands grasps onto the back of his suit jacket, legs skimming the ground. bruce twirls you so you're in front of him, one arm remaining wrapped around your back securely while the other searches for your hand. you're confused until you hear a camera snap and shutter behind you.

bruce was always one for appearances.

and then he is dancing with you, and you are struggling to keep up. you cling to him, heels hurting your feet. a step on his foot makes bruce's hand tighten against your waist. but he doesn't comment as he spins you around. the bottom of your dress flares before going to rest against the tops of your thighs once more.

"eyes on me," bruce insists when he catches you trying to look down at your feet. just to make sure that you won't step on him again. but he won't have that. bruce demands your attention, and he demands your eye contact.

what you don't understand is that bruce is only trying to help you stay steady. looking at your feet will only cause much more problems. so he holds your hand tightly in his own, chin coming to rest on top of your head. "just follow my lead."

you're grateful that you aren't the only two dancing. it feels easier this way. if you mess up, you'll just keep going. bruce won't let you embarrass yourself especially in front of the camera. strong hands slide down your waist to rest on your hips, offering a small squeeze that has you stumbling. you look up at him through those pretty eyelashes that he adores, and bruce can't help but want to tease you. he offers you that small smile of his that only you can see and dips his head down to kiss the corner of your lips.

you squirm against him, a shy smile of your own appearing as you step back away from him. your insides are twisting, feeling almost as clumsy as you are in this moment. you trip as you step back, and bruce is leaning forward to catch you once more. "i didn't mean to scare you," you can tell he's teasing, so you pout.

"you're not being fair," you manage, a blush spreading steadily across your face as you nudge him with your elbow. bruce never seems shy when it comes to pda. you almost envy him for it. the truth is, you're so clumsy sometimes because he makes you shy.

you're starting to think he's doing it on purpose. like he might know just what effect he has on you. bruce dips his head down, lips brushing your neck in a way that has you tensing from head to toe. there's something about his grip that demands submission, a warning for you to not move away from him again. bruce is stable as he slowly dances you to the edge of the room. away from any lingering eyes.

only once you're a safe distance away from everyone else does he slightly incline his head. "think you can make it up the stairs without falling?" he teases, a promise in that smile of his. you open your mouth. close it again. you want to say yes but you aren't so sure that would be truthful. bruce doesn't wait for you to answer before he's pulling you along, towards the empty hallways.

he's kissing you, hands pressed against your hips, your back pressed against the wall. his lips are warm against your skin, hands calloused as they caress every curve, every dip. bruce's grin has you literally weak in the knees, and when he's pulling you towards the familiar path of his bedroom to escape this party, you trip on the carpeted floor and land on top of him with a thud and a huff.

staring up at you, bruce offers a lazy grin. "all you had to do was ask."

[introvertedbread]

What do u think Sundrop would be like where reader is really clumsy?

SUNDROP WITH A CLUMSY PARTNER! :D

A/N: MY FIRST REQUEST!! Yippee!!! >:D

warnings: none really :D

☀️: oh boy...his poor anxiety...

☀️: know he can and will make you wear knee-pads and a helmet if he has to- he's overprotective and doing his best to be a good boyfriend

☀️: holds your hand constantly!

☀️: Even if you are really clumsy- at least you're in one of the safest area's of the mega-plex! a literal daycare!

☀️: He keeps band-aids in the pockets of his pants! and of course they have cutesy designs!

☀️: "Dewdrop? would you prefer the hello-kitty band-aids or the robot ones? yeah! I like those too :D"

☀️: due to his job he often accidentally baby-talk's you and feels so ashamed

☀️: "oh my goodness! did you trip on your shoelaces?...aweh poor thing! let me get a bandai- wait."

☀️: He patches you up and while his face-plate cant move, you can still feel how embarrassed he is-

☀️: If he gets really fed up he'll straight up do what he did with Gregory (put you in one spot and guard you with every circuit of patience he has left)

☀️: any time he hears a crash, regardless of if you're even around, he will sigh deeply and go "Oh darn-it Sunshine...".

☀️: feels a bit bad if he finds out the crash didn't involve you (even if it is very unlikely)

☀️: all in all, he really loves you with all his robotic heart, even if you are a clumsy pain in his servos!

[ozzgin]

It's the official comedic trio:

Nerdy!Yandere who has fallen for your kindness and clings to you whenever the other two attempt to bully him

"Why is it so cold in here," Nerdy!Yandere remarks with a shiver, oblivious to the deadly glares he's receiving.

Clumsy!Yandere who is ridiculously upset at the fact he's no longer babied by you as much, so he constantly plots the nerd's demise

"Today's going to be your worst day, you pathetic nerd," Clumsy!Yandere threatens with an evil grin, rubbing his hands together, unaware he just sabotaged his own locker.

Lazy!Yandere who would rather just chill with you, but he doesn't want to go through the trouble of dealing with the other two losers

"I was wondering if we could go on a da-...nevermind," Lazy!Yandere mumbles begrudgingly, noticing the other two angrily steaming and scheming behind a telephone pole. What a hassle.

[bokutoko]

SO I SAW A TIKTOK ABOUT AN ATHLETE IN THE OLYMPICS WHO LOST HIS WEDDING RING IN THE RIVER DURING THE OPENING CEREMONY. . .

and i couldn’t help but think of sweet, sweet BOKUTO who doesn’t mean to lose the ring, but he’s just so clumsy. and afterwards, he’s absolutely mortified and stresses so bad that you’ll be upset with him.

granted, you are sad, but you understand it wasn’t intentional. you just nod with a soft, slightly forced smile, telling him, “it’s okay, kou. focus on the games for now. we can worry about it another time.”

but bokuto can’t seem to forgive himself…

until he gets an idea. your anniversary is coming up soon…

so when japan claims the victory against argentina and wins the gold, bokuto turns to you in the stands, watching as you happily cheer him on. he basks in the spotlight and relishes the feeling of you, his sweet wife of five years, always supporting him no matter what.

while you’ve always known bokuto to be an unpredictable human being in all your years together, nothing could prepare you for this. all the cameras pan to bokuto with his usual dazzling smile, and they zoom in on the beautiful ring, adorned with your favorite gem, as he yells out, “marry me again!”

and with a shy nod and wide smile, you feel yourself fall in love with him all over again.♡

a/n: akaashi helped him come up with this idea

masterlist | navigation

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2024.

[iheartsophie]

FALLING FOR YOU… LITERALLY | oscar piastri

^ྀི pairing: oscar piastri x clumsy! reader

^ྀི genre: FLUFF.

^ྀི context: You’ve always been clumsy—tripping over nothing, bumping into everything. Luckily, Oscar’s gotten so used to catching you that he can do it without even looking. It’s become a running joke in your relationship, but behind the teasing is a quiet kind of care: no matter how many times you fall, he’s always there to catch you. Literally.

^ྀི sophie speaks!: the votes between lando and oscar in the poll was extremely close so why not do both 💋 (requests:open)

You had long since accepted the fact that gravity had a personal vendetta against you.

You tripped over nothing on a regular basis. Uneven pavement? Instant faceplant. Carpet edge? Gone. Steps you walked up every day? Still managed to fall on the third one like it was new.

It had become such a frequent occurrence that Oscar didn’t even flinch anymore. He’d just… catch you. Like clockwork. Like it was scheduled. Like his reflexes had learned to expect it.

One time—your favorite and most embarrassing to date—you were walking through the paddock beside him. He was scrolling through his phone, casually replying to a message from Lando, when you caught your foot on the tiniest dip in the pavement.

You braced for impact.

But Oscar? He didn’t even look up. His arm shot out, fingers catching you by the crook of your elbow. With a small tug, he steadied you like it was no big deal. Like it was muscle memory.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “Did you just catch me without even looking?”

“Mmhmm,” he murmured, thumbs still typing. “Third time this week.”

“You didn’t even flinch!”

“You fall the same way every time,” he replied calmly, finally glancing over at you. “Left foot. Mild panic gasp. Arms flail. It’s honestly kind of graceful now.”

You shoved his arm playfully, cheeks burning. “I’m going to start wearing knee pads.”

He just grinned. “Might be a good idea.”

⸻

It was a running joke between you two now. The paddock had noticed too.

Lando had once dramatically offered to buy you stabilizers like you were a toddler learning to walk. Pierre claimed you were trying to invent a new sport: Freestyle Faceplanting. Even Zak Brown got in on it once, laughing as you slipped on the steps leading into hospitality and Oscar caught you by the waist with a practiced ease.

“Again?” Zak had chuckled.

“She’s consistent,” Oscar had said coolly, not even breaking stride.

You groaned. “I’m never living this down.”

⸻

At home, it wasn’t any better.

You once knocked over an entire glass of water while reaching for the remote. Oscar was across the room but still managed to catch the cup mid-air while saying, “Babe.”

“I swear I’m cursed,” you’d muttered.

“No, you’re just…” he paused, searching for a diplomatic word. “Energetic.”

You gave him a flat look. “Just say it.”

“You’re clumsy.”

You threw a pillow at him.

⸻

Despite all the teasing, you knew Oscar secretly loved it.

There was a look he gave you every time you stumbled — a mix of fondness, amusement, and “of course she did.” The way his hands were always ready to steady you. The way he instinctively reached out when you were near ledges or steps or wires or literally anything that could even remotely be a hazard.

You’d tested it once. On purpose.

You were walking through the paddock beside him. You didn’t actually trip this time — you pretended to stumble, just a little, and sure enough, his hand shot out to grab your elbow, like a reflex.

You burst into laughter. “Oscar! I wasn’t even falling!”

“Don’t play with my instincts like that,” he said, eyes narrowing. “One day you’re gonna fall for real and I’ll think you’re joking.”

“You’re like a clumsy-girlfriend-safety-net,” you grinned.

He smirked. “Someone has to be.”

⸻

The jokes continued, but so did the care.

Like the time he wordlessly switched sides with you on the sidewalk to be closer to the curb.

Or when he told the team to move a cable because “Y/N’s coming and I don’t want to spend lunch at the med tent.”

Or when he gently held your hand walking up the stairs — not like a boyfriend being sweet, but like a man who had seen you trip too many times not to intervene.

But your favorite?

It was after a particularly long day in Monaco. The race weekend had been chaotic, the streets were narrow, the press had been overwhelming, and you were exhausted. You were trying to walk beside Oscar while balancing your phone, a drink, and your pass. It was only a matter of time before you dropped something — and trip, you did. Shoes catching on the cobblestone, body lurching forward.

This time, Oscar didn’t just catch your elbow. He tugged you directly into his chest, wrapping both arms around you, steady and warm.

“Okay, that’s it,” he murmured against your hair. “I’m buying you bubble wrap.”

You giggled into his jacket. “You love it.”

“I love you,” he corrected. “The falling is just part of the package.”

You smiled, nose buried against his chest.

“Guess it’s a good thing I keep falling for you, huh?”

Oscar groaned. “That was so bad.”

“Still laughed though,” you smirked.

And with his arm around your shoulders and your balance forever in question, you walked on — tripping occasionally, sure — but always knowing he’d catch you.

Every single time.

[tellingtell5]

Mr. Blue Sky 《Clark Kent, superman x reader》

Clark Kent, Superman x femreader

Summary: The day starts out perfect, everything going Superman’s way. He’s even glowing with joy at giving his girlfriend an exclusive as Superman, but then things take a turn.

A/N: So… I watched Superman (2025). I thought I was fine with myself, that this wouldn’t turn into a new hyperfixation, but here we are. I’ve been absolutely smitten with this Superman for a couple of days now, reading some stories, and I just wanted to write something soft and sweet about him. Thank you for reading and for all the support. I hope this reaches someone. 🖤

Sun is shinin' in the sky. There ain't a cloud in sight. It's stopped rainin', everybody's in the play, And don't you know, It's a beautiful new day? Hey

The day was nearly perfect.

He’d woken up with the first rays of sunlight brushing his face, his energy recharged to its fullest. He rolled out of bed with a grin stretching from ear to ear.

Yes, this morning he’d head to the Daily Planet, but not as Clark. He’d don the suit, take a few laps around the globe to fix a couple of pressing issues, and then land at the front steps of the newsroom, ready to give an interview worthy of Superman.

Giving an exclusive to his own girlfriend hadn’t been on his bingo card for the year. But then again, you had no idea you were about to be asking questions to the man you kissed goodnight nearly every evening. To you, Clark Kent and Superman were entirely different people. The idea that they could even be related had never crossed your mind.

He was sure of that, mostly because you loved to call Clark “nerdy”, affectionately, of course. You said you liked that about him.

He smiled, involuntarily, remembering the way you'd adjusted his glasses yesterday, pushing a few unruly curls off his forehead with a quiet “hold still, Kent.”

You were such a good girl. Warm in a way that made even the sun feel second best.

"Superman! Right on time, thank you." There you were, the woman who made his always-steady, always-calm heart do those strange, looping flips inside his chest. Your face held none of the warmth you usually reserved for him. No familiar grin. Just a professional courtesy-smile, the kind you gave strangers.

Right. A stranger. Superman. Not Clarkie. He had to remind himself of that every two seconds just to stop his hand from instinctively reaching out to brush your cheek.

He nodded, still wearing that smile he'd had on since sunrise.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet my number one critic.” He folded his hands behind his back and leaned forward slightly, like he was sharing a secret.

Because the truth was, the person he loved the most was also the one who had been hardest on him, at least in print. Your articles on Superman often questioned his choices, dissected his motives, challenged his actions. Half the time he hadn’t even considered the angles you brought up.

But instead of a witty retort, your lips stayed pressed in a polite, almost tight line. Your tone was formal. He cleared his throat, surprised to find himself… uncomfortable. With you.

You gestured forward with your portfolio, murmuring a soft, “Shall we?” that barely carried above the newsroom noise. He followed without thinking, keeping a respectful distance, resisting the urge to walk beside you. Clark Kent would’ve matched your stride. Superman held back.

He felt the eyes on him. But not the familiar, teasing glances of coworkers—there was no recognition in them. Just awe, curiosity, and a touch of suspicion. The swish of his cape dragged against desks as he walked by. For the first time in his life, he felt like an intruder in his own workplace.

He nearly stopped at your desk out of habit. But then you kept going—toward a little-used conference room. He followed. You held the door open with a flick of your wrist and nodded him inside. As he brushed past you, he accidentally grazed your arm and muttered a quiet “sorry.” Your scent hit him like a freight train. His shampoo. You’d used it yesterday after showering at his place.

He barely managed to hold back a low hum of satisfaction.

The door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the sound of the newsroom.

He smiled again—soft, utterly smitten—just from seeing you back in his line of sight. You were sorting papers, focused, all business.

“You may sit, Superman,” you said, without looking up.

He blinked out of his daze. “Of course,” he murmured and moved toward the chair.

In one smooth motion that turned into a complete disaster, he sat—only to trap part of his cape beneath him. The fabric pulled taut at his neck, cutting slightly into his throat. He shot up, pulling at the cape to free it, which jostled the table hard enough to knock into the pitcher of water you’d set out. He reached to stop it and smacked knees with you under the table.

“Sorry—! I, uh, sorry—” he kept repeating as the pitcher wobbled, nearly tipped, then settled with a splash. Your papers fluttered from the breeze of his movements.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the ground would swallow him. Then he heard it: a tiny laugh.

His eyes opened slowly, one at a time.

You were smiling, just a little,and it made something unfurl in his chest.

“I’m not… usually like this,” he said.

“I should be the one apologizing,” you replied, your voice cool but amused. “Had I known you were this… large, I might’ve chosen a room with more space. I assumed you’d be about the same size as my…”

You stopped. Mid-thought. Mid-sentence.

He leaned forward slightly, waiting. Hoping. You never called him your boyfriend, not out loud. Not officially. But the way you moved, the way you curled around him in your sleep, he felt it. Still, it would’ve meant the world to hear you say it.

Instead, you shook your head and looked away, focusing on your notes.

He sat back, watching you. Watching the way your fingers moved across your pages, the way your brows furrowed in concentration. He fidgeted beneath the table, twisting his cape in his hands just to keep himself from reaching over and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Then, you opened your portfolio too fast, and several papers flew out. Instinctively, he reached to help.

And there it was.

A photograph.

Small, worn from being carried around. It had slipped between pages and tumbled out onto the table, face up. His heart stopped. It was of you and Clark, well…him. You were kissing his cheek, catching him off guard mid-laugh. His glasses were crooked. The photo was blurry from motion, but your smile? Clear as day.

He stared at it for a moment longer than he should have. You gave him the sun, every single time you smiled like that.

He handed it to you, trying not to tremble.

“You and him… is he your boyfriend?” he asked, carefully.

Your fingers took the photo back, slipping it into your folder with barely a glance.

“Something like that,” you said.

His body reacted slower than his mind.

He’d leaned in, waiting for your answer, nervous, even. The euphoria had already burst through his veins before he truly registered what you said.

Something like that.

He collapsed against the back of the chair, the wood groaning beneath his weight as though something inside him had deflated. He couldn’t stop his face from reacting. His mouth twisted briefly, his lips pushing forward in what looked like a clumsy kiss of confusion. His brows pulled impossibly tight at the center of his forehead.

He couldn’t make sense of your words. He couldn’t process that the same woman who kept a photo of the two of you, laughing, happy, had dismissed the idea of being together so easily.

If someone asked him the same thing, he’d smile and say it clear as day: yes. He was yours.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again.

There was no safe way to ask what you meant without sounding nosy… or letting the mask slip. But then you looked up, eyes catching the confusion on his face.

He watched as you opened your mouth, like you were going to say something—maybe explain. But you closed it just as fast and turned your attention back to the scattered sheets on the table.

Without looking at him, you asked:

“What about you, Superman? Do you have someone?”

You sounded indifferent. Detached. Like the question was purely conversational. But something twisted in his gut, jealousy, maybe. Of himself. And wasn’t that just ridiculous?

“Is this off the record?” he asked, careful.

“Of course. I’m not a gossip columnist. I’m just trying to ease the tension. You seem nervous.”

He nearly blurted out that it wasn’t nerves. That what made him act this way was you. You, filling the small room with your presence, your scent in every corner, muffling his super senses. You, whose steady heartbeat was the lullaby he fell asleep to on countless nights.

But instead, he just told you the truth.

“Yes. I have someone.”

You looked surprised. Like you hadn’t expected him to actually answer. And just like that, your expression shifted—back to professional, guarded. The air changed.

“Oh. And… is she okay with all this?”

“Sorry?”

You weren’t looking through your notes anymore. You weren’t preparing for the interview. All your focus was on him—and while he usually adored when your attention was on him, now it made the hairs on his arms stand up.

You were angry. He just didn’t understand why.

“Well, yes. I think so. She’s worth the effort.”

“You think so?” you echoed, eyes narrowing slightly. “So… she doesn’t know?”

“It’s better this way,” he said, more defensively than intended.

“Better this way,” you repeated, almost to yourself. Like the words tasted wrong on your tongue. He felt exposed. Judged. But… how could you judge him? You weren’t supposed to know him. Not like that.

And then you said:

“Can I ask you something else? Off the record, again.”

He was already angry with himself, for how easily he'd slipped. For letting your questions pull at the seams of his disguise. His mind was racing, calculating, connecting the dots, wondering why you seemed so damn interested in Superman’s relationship.

“How long,” you asked, soft but sharp, “have you thought your girlfriend was stupid?”

His instinct was to respond, fast, almost automatic, but then he processed what you said. He planted his palms flat on the table, needing something solid to calm the chaos in his head.

“I—Sorry, I don’t think I heard that correctly.”

You tilted your head, lips curling in something colder than amusement.

“For someone with super hearing, that’s disappointing.”

His mouth twitched again. That same puzzled little frown. His brows hadn’t relaxed since you first minimized your relationship with him. But now he realized something else had changed.

Your breathing was louder. Not erratic—controlled, but forceful. Your nostrils flared slightly. A flush spread across your cheeks.

You were furious.

And suddenly, everything, the way you redirected the conversation, your body language, your eyes, clicked into place. He let out a slow, tired breath, his entire frame softening. Like he’d been carrying tension for too long without knowing it.

Your name slipped from his mouth, not an accusation. A plea.

“How long have you known?”

“Does it matter?”

You leaned back, crossing your arms as you mirrored his posture, putting distance between you. But the space felt like more than a few feet, it was a chasm. And despite his speed, he wasn’t sure he could cross it.

You straightened again. But this time, you looked… hurt.

You toyed with your pen, like your hands didn’t know what to do.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice, Clark?”

The name landed like a blow to the chest.

No one called him that when he wore the suit. It wasn’t just his name—it was the truth, spoken aloud like a secret stripped bare.

“God, last week I fixed that same stubborn curl again.” You pointed at his forehead.

His hand shot up to push the curl aside. Too late. Useless.

“I really think you believe I’m an idiot. How could I not notice? Same height. Same build. Same heart.”

At the mention of that heart, his own did a full somersault. He nearly staggered.

“If I hadn’t figured it out sooner, I would’ve the second I saw you in the hallway this morning.”

You leaned in now. Your voice softened, but your eyes were burning.

“There’s only one man in my life who’s ever looked at me like that, Clark. And you looked at me the same way again today.”

He blinked.

His breath caught. Something caved in behind his ribs, like a door giving way under pressure. He looked like he wanted to speak—maybe even apologize—but you raised a hand before he could say a single word.

“Don’t,” you said sharply. “Don’t say it was to protect me. Don’t you dare come out with some noble crap like ‘I just wanted you safe.’”

He flinched, not because you were wrong, but because he’d almost said it.

You pressed on, voice low but trembling: “You knew. You knew I’d figure it out eventually. And you still lied. Every single day, Clark.”

“I didn’t do it to protect you,” he said suddenly. Urgently. “That’s not—it wasn’t that.”

You faltered. He sounded so raw, like his chest had split open and the words were spilling out faster than he could shape them.

“I did it because I was scared,” he said, eyes fixed on yours. “Because I didn’t know if you’d still want to be with me once you knew. Not just me, but everything I come with. Everything I carry. I was afraid I’d lose you the second you saw the whole picture. That I’d never be able to give you a normal life. That I’d always have to leave, that I might not come back.”

That silenced you.

The heat in your chest, the stubborn burn of betrayal—it flickered, twisted into something more complicated.

Clark Kent, who faced down aliens and firestorms and god-knows-what on a daily basis, had been terrified… of you walking away.

You let out a slow breath.

His hand was still braced on the table, knuckles white. He looked smaller now, somehow, like his strength couldn’t shield him from this. And he wasn’t hiding behind the Superman voice anymore. This was just Clark. Your Clark. Messy. Afraid. Honest.

“I never wanted you to be someone else,” you said, finally. He stared. “You’re not perfect. God, you’re so far from it. You burn your toast. You forget your keys. You talk to my cat like she understands quantum physics. And you lie like someone who’s never had to before.” You smiled, barely. “But you also take care of everyone. And I mean everyone. Even when you’re breaking inside”

Those last words hung in the air like a charge. He didn’t even seem to notice his own breath hitching, how his posture straightened like something vital had just anchored him to the moment.

“It’s this, this maddening, impossibly good part of you, that’s exactly what made me fall in love with you.”

He blinked.

Fell in love.

With him.

You didn’t notice the way he went still. Or maybe you did.

He felt breathless.

He swallowed. His voice, when it came, was quiet. Fragile.

“You said you… love me.”

You met his gaze. Steady. No fear in your eyes now, just the kind of truth he’d always been afraid to reach for.

“I do.”

It landed like a miracle.

He’d flown through storms. He’d held up buildings, outpaced explosions, taken bullets to the chest, but nothing had ever struck him as hard or as beautifully as that.

“You love me,” he repeated, like he was testing the shape of it in his mouth. Holding it between his teeth like a secret he'd kept even from himself.

You gave a soft, shaky laugh.

“I just… I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say it.”

“Well,” you said, stepping closer, “maybe next time, don’t lie to your girlfriend for six months.”

He moves before he thinks.

Not fast, he’s fast, of course, but this isn’t that. This is slow, trembling, reverent. He leans in like something sacred’s pulling him forward by the ribs, because you just said you love him, and that’s all he’s ever needed, all he’s ever wanted—

But your fingers press to his chest before he reaches you.

“Easy, big guy,” you murmur, gaze flicking toward the ceiling like it’s got teeth. “The walls have eyes.”

He freezes.

Right. Right. Interview room. Security cameras. Superman costume. Full heart, no brain.

He steps back quickly, heat flaring up the back of his neck, cape tangling briefly around his leg like it’s laughing at him. He clears his throat, awkward and giant and suddenly very aware of how broad his shoulders are in this tiny room.

“Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I got a little—uh—caught up.”

You smiled at him, and for a moment Clark felt like every shield he had ever worn (the suit, the cape, the persona) was made of paper. He looked nothing like the hero who could hold up collapsing bridges or drag people out of burning wreckage. Right now, he was just a man, all raw edges and open nerves. You saw that. And something in your anger softened at the sight, like a knot loosening. Not gone, not entirely—because lies leave splinters—but enough that he could breathe again.

You’d told him you were in love with him, and the way his face had lit up—like the sun had risen twice—made your fury feel almost petty. Almost. Because no matter how much you loved him, the truth was he had lied. And that still stung.

With that sharp clarity anger gives, you cleared your throat. A tiny, deliberate sound that sliced the air between you. Clark’s senses tuned to it instantly, watching how you shifted, sliding back into your professional skin, the one that looked at him not like a man but like a headline waiting to be written. It struck him, for half a heartbeat, that maybe you weren’t so different from him. Maybe you had two faces too. Sweet, sleepy girlfriend in the mornings; relentless, razor-edged reporter once the sun went down.

Your hand moved toward the recorder. Slow, intentional. Like you wanted him to notice every inch of the motion, to make sure he understood that the game had changed. A soft click, a red LED. Recording.

“So, Superman,” you said, your tone shifting into that velvet-steel cadence he knew too well, “is there some kind of green card for immigrants from other planets? How is that kind of migration even handled?”

His mouth opened, but no sound came. Whiplash. One second he was holding onto your love like it was the last warm thing on Earth, and the next you were tossing him a policy question like this was the six o’clock news.

“Gosh da—” he muttered under his breath, catching himself because, oh God, Ma would hear that from space.

You arched a brow, eyes gleaming.

“Careful with the language, Superman. I’m recording.”

And there it was again, that mix of affection and fire that left him more undone than kryptonite ever could.

[pricegotmedickmatized]

taking a break from the sticky icky verse to talk about hybrid shifters and the 141. let’s do price first

bear!price who’s quiet and looming, and big, you can see that he’s big of course he is he’s a bear hybrid, but you don’t realize that that’s him not even standing at full height, not even standing with his tired shoulders straight and broad, and when he does, when he unfolds into his true height and breadth, he’s so fucking big

bear!price who by far prefers nature to the city, solitude to crowds, and takes every opportunity he can on leave to go camping somewhere, his favorite places are far flung and often cold, and he finally decides to pull the trigger, buys a patch of land in the middle of nowhere, builds himself a self sustaining cabin (all the necessary luxuries like hot water, old man like him needs it, and it’ll serve as a good safe house if he or the team ever need it so it’s a good investment)

bear!price who prefers to hunt his own food when he can do so, rather than just go to the supermarket or a restaurant like other hybrids nowadays, he likes the hunt, likes to be responsible for his own meals, and one day at that Alaskan cabin he’s out by the river for salmon, and when he reaches in for a fish what he hauls out is an otter, which quickly shifts in his heavy hand into a woman, soaked and shivering in the chill air, her little round ears flat to her head and thick, furry tail wrapped around her long legs

bear!price who brings her into his house, sets her in front of the roaring fire with a plateful of salmon and gently pulls her story out of her: she’s not wild, not feral, she just got lost on a hike a few days ago and as an otter hybrid she’s warmer and safer in freshwater than out in the wild…even if it means she’s floated down the river while she slept and now she doesn’t know WHERE the hell she is

bear!price who feeds her and puts her in his clothes (she lost hers in the first shift poor thing) who has to carry her around the cabin because she’s so clumsy on land, and wraps her in his blankets and can’t stop looking at her. can’t stop rubbing her soft little ears between his thumb and forefinger, making her blush and shudder, can’t stop petting her tail tucked beside her on the one chair in his cabin that he insisted she take

bear!price who, when she says that she’s still cold that night, takes great pleasure in wrapping her in his arms and pressing her down into the bed, who swallows each of the adorable little squeaks she makes as he nuzzles her throat, forces her thighs wide to fit his hips, and forces his cock inside

bear!price who’s too big for a pretty little otter like her but makes her take it anyway, crooning that she can take it she’s doing so good just hold out a little longer he just needs to fuck his scent into her so she smells right and he can sleep, licks her tears off her cheeks when she cums as his cockhead rams up against her womb, little claws raking ineffectively at his skin never able to break through

bear!price who decides mid fuck that she’s the softest, sweetest thing he’s ever felt and a pussy that tight can’t walk away from him. he deserves something soft to come home to, something to take his cock and cry about how big it is and just be so fucking sweet and soft for him. decides he’ll keep the little stray after all, now aren’t you grateful sweetheart? he’s gonna be so good to you, why don’t you thank him by taking his load?