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navybrat817 · 3 days ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 27

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 26 | Series Masterlist | Part 28

Chapter Word Count: Almost 4k

Chapter Summary: An idea comes to you regarding part of your future and Bucky has a few choice words for your parents.

Chapter Warnings: Confrontation, bonding of sorts, inner turmoil, world building, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: I don't know what happened to the original post. Let's try this again! More Hold You Tight, and thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought it would feel strange with Curtis hanging out in the kitchen while you baked the brownies, but it wasn’t as bad as you thought, and it was something you’d have to get used to since he would be around you going forward. He didn’t try to fill the silence with small talk unless you asked him a question, likely trying to remain in the “shadows”. You did wonder what was on his mind since he mentioned being trapped, but it wasn’t any of your business. He was your bodyguard and that didn’t mean he’d be your friend.

“Smells delicious,” he said, standing when you took them out of the oven.

“Don’t worry. I won't burn myself,” you said, nodding for him to sit back down. “And thanks. I hope you like them.”

“I'm sure I will.”

Ray walked into the kitchen the moment you set the brownies out to cool off and looked between you and Curtis who settled back in his chair. “A treat for breakfast?” he guessed.

“A treat for Curtis,” you said, making your bodyguard smile a little.

Ray blinked hard and slow. “I see,” he said, pushing his glasses up. Did that upset him?

“Well, that batch is for Curtis. You have first dibs on the other batch,” you clarified.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” The blonde raised an eyebrow. “And what about the boss?”

“He’s third. He knows what he did,” you said unapologetically. They were your brownies. You could do what you wanted with them.

Curtis hid a smile before Ray asked, “And how are you feeling?”

You put your hands on the counter and shrugged. “Hard to say since I’m seeing my parents today and still dealing with…”

“Everything,” Ray finished for you.

You nodded. “I appreciate you asking.” It felt like you hadn’t talked to him in days and you admittedly missed it. Like Curtis, keeping you safe wasn’t a bore or chore in his eyes. He believed you were brave and part of you was starting to believe it, too.

“We’re all glad you're safe now,” he softly said.

“Careful there. You might be showing emotion,” Curtis said, earning him a glare from his colleague.

“Where’s Bucky?” you asked.

“He sulked for a minute when you kicked him out of the kitchen,” he said, making Curtis snort. Again, Bucky knew what he did. “But he’s in his office. Called Steve and Natalia. He also got an update on Lois.”

“How is she?” you asked, hoping that things were still looking up.

“She’s recovering well,” he assured you. You were glad to hear that. “From what we know, she’s stubborn and strong and it’ll take time, but she’ll be fine.”

You let out a breath. “I really need to see her, and I need to talk to Natasha,” you said. A woman you could hopefully help heal and move forward and a woman who was going to help you in some capacity. Both receiving and paying it forward. As that thought settled in your mind, an idea washed over you, making you stand up straighter and look at Ray again.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I have a thought,” you answered, trying not to get too excited. “I need to talk to Bucky.”

Curtis jumped from his chair when you walked out without another word, his footsteps behind you nearly silent. He really was going to be a good bodyguard for you. Ray followed, too, likely curious about why you rushed out so quickly.

Bucky looked up from his desk when you walked into the office, a smile on his face when he stood up. “Brownies ready?” he asked, holding his hand up to keep Curtis and Ray from walking in.

“Yeah, but that’s not what I came in here for,” you said, taking a seat on the sofa. Bucky immediately went to join you. “I have a bit of a crazy idea and I wanted to get your opinion on it.”

“You want my opinion?” The subtle shift in his posture showed he was touched. “And I’m the crazy one, Kotyonok, so nothing you could say would ever sound crazy to me.”

You didn’t dispute that he was crazy. “So, you know how one of the things that attracted you to me was helping your mom and my generally kind nature?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“And you helped Natasha however long ago so she could give the women who work at her hotel a better life, right?” you continued. You remembered Natasha telling you if it wasn't for Bucky she wouldn't be where she was.

“Yes, I did,” he confirmed, not elaborating on how or why.

“What if I do something kind of like that? What if I try to help other women who have…” You swallowed and tried to find the right words, suddenly nervous to ask for his opinion. “Been through stuff, like Lois or me.”

He tilted his head. “You want to help women who have been hurt in some capacity?”

“Yeah. Assault. Abuse. Trauma,” you said. You thought of your own situation, not just Clark's attack, but Bucky systemically making his way into your life. He wasn't out to harm you, but some stalkers did try to harm their victims. “And it's not like I’d have to quit being a florist. I just… I don't know. I want to do something.”

It could've been a means to take back some more control of your life. Being by Bucky’s side, you didn’t want to lose who you were in your core and wanted to continue putting good back into the world. Perhaps you wanted to pay it forward even more since others didn't have the kind of money and protection you now had.

“It’s stupid, isn't it?” you asked when he stayed quiet.

You were a florist. Yes, you volunteered when you could and wanted to help people, but it wasn’t your area of expertise. An endeavor like that was out of your depth, wasn't it?

Bucky framed your face, his eyes flashing with a mixture of pride and fury. “Don't you ever say an idea of yours is stupid. I won't stand for that,” he said, his gaze softening considerably. “Especially since that’s a great idea.”

You studied him, looking for any sign that he was joking. He wasn’t. “Really?” you asked in a small voice.

He kissed the tip of your nose with a smile. “Really. Money won’t be an issue. We can sketch out a plan and figure out what exactly you want to focus on, start local and small. Or you can sketch out the plan and I’ll give input if you seek it out,” he said, a hint of his businessman tone coming out. “If this is really something you want, we’ll make it happen.”

“So, just like that?” you asked. He was really supporting this?

“Of course. It’s admirable that you continue to look out for others and I’m going to support whatever you want to do,” he said.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You didn’t want to admit how nice it felt that he was backing this up, especially when you had no set plan yet.

“It also means a lot that you asked for my opinion.”

“Well, we have to talk through these things. It’s what couples do,” you said.

His smile was brighter than the light in the room. “So, you really see us as a couple now.”

“I guess so,” you said. What choice did you have?

He sighed before he kissed your lips, featherlight and full of promise. “You won’t regret it,” he whispered, suddenly standing and helping you to your feet, too. “You’re still in your robe.”

“I’ve been in the kitchen this whole time,” you reminded him, your mind going back to Curtis and wondering more about his past.

Bucky checked his watch. “Why don’t you get ready for lunch? I think Curtis and Ray have seen you in your robe enough for one day,” he tried to tease and checked his watch.

“And what about the day I’m walking around in nothing but my underwear?” you blurted out without meaning to.

Darkness crossed Bucky’s eyes, but it was more lust than rage when he put his hands on your hips. “I’d hate to have to hurt my own men, but I do love the thought of you walking around our home so… freely.”

“I’ll bet you do,” you whispered, knowing he’d probably chase you around or drag you to bed if he had the chance. “But for now, yes, I should get dressed.”

“Don’t want to keep your parents waiting,” he said, letting you pull away to get ready. “I hope I make a lasting impression.”

You shivered, wondering just what kind of impression he wanted to make. “I’m sure you will.”

Curtis leaned against the wall outside of the office while Ray stood on the other side. “You want to help others, huh?” your bodyguard asked.

You stopped to face him. “Yeah, I do.”

Curtis didn’t say anything else, but he looked impressed. So did Ray. You didn’t have time to dwell on that. You had to get ready for a lunch that you didn’t want to go to.

But your whole life as of late had been a series of events you had to participate in without much of a choice, so what was one more?

Bucky held your hand the entire drive to the restaurant and didn’t force you to talk, which you appreciated since your stomach was in knots. You found yourself playing with the diamond necklace, which he had put around your neck before you left. Your mom would no doubt stare at it or make a comment since you had never had such a nice piece of jewelry. Was this going to be a disaster or were you overthinking it?

“We’ll get through this quickly,” Bucky told you once the car stopped, his lips brushing the top of your hand. “Long enough for me to meet them and send them on their way.”

The knot in your stomach tightened more. How exactly was he going to send them on their way? “And after that?”

“Whatever you want,” he promised, helping you out of the car.

You didn’t pay much attention as you were escorted to the private table, but you knew Ray and Curtis weren’t far behind. The place was bright and airy, but sophisticated. It would've been a nice place to go on a date. Would this lunch sour that idea?

“I’m here,” Bucky whispered, pulling out your chair for you.

Considering the way he burst into your life you never expected to lean on him for anything. You had since your attack and now this, looking to him for support without meaning to. You even asked for his opinion on your idea to help other women, which you did seek out. Who were you becoming?

“Why do I care so much about what they think?” you asked when he sat down beside you.

“Because they’re your parents and it’s natural,” he replied, taking your hand under the table. “But you don’t need them.”

You were about to argue that you did need them before you caught them in your line of sight, your back rigid as they moved closer. They didn’t look overjoyed to see you, which broke your heart a bit. Bucky squeezed your hand before you realized you had squeezed his hand first. This was going to be a long lunch.

“It’s good to see you,” your dad said when Bucky released your hand only to pull your chair back to help you stand. “And you must be-”

“Bucky, her boyfriend. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, shaking his hand and smirking when your dad winced and turning a critical eye on your mom. Neither of them hugged you before they took their seats and you quickly sat back down to hide your embarrassment. “You two raised quite the woman,” he added, daring them to say something.

“Thank you,” your mom said, looking over the menu.

“Since the menu seems to be more important than greeting your daughter, please, pick whatever you want,” Bucky smiled like a wolf getting ready to strike while you gaped at him. “I spare no expense when it comes to her and her… loved ones. Just look at her necklace. I purchased it for our first date.”

Your mom’s mouth fell open and you felt a bit of satisfaction when your dad squirmed in his seat. Did that make you a bad person? “I’m sorry. I meant nothing by it.” Your mom cleared her throat. “We’re thrilled to see you. It’s just with our accounts being frozen…”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” you filled in the blanks. You were used to it.

“Yes, I’m sorry about your accounts,” Bucky said without sounding sorry at all and pretended to look over his menu. “Interesting how you always think of others first even when you have a lot on your mind, Kotyonok,” he said loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Makes me wonder what that came from.”

Your mom’s mouth didn’t drop again, but you heard her sharp inhale on her next breath and your dad squirmed again. They weren’t used to subtle insults like that, especially for someone who had just met them. But as Bucky took your hand, you very much felt like his queen and he was defending you as such.

“Aren’t you going to compliment her necklace?” Bucky asked, turning his head to smile at you. “It’s as beautiful as she is.”

Your face felt hot when your parents stared and admired the diamonds. “They don’t have to say anything,” you mumbled.

“But I don’t understand. What kind of parents don’t compliment their child, especially when they haven’t seen them in some time?” he asked. Once again, it was loud enough for them to hear. He was digging the knife in and twisting it in the most passive aggressive way.

“It’s beautiful,” your mom said enviously, avoiding looking at Bucky.

“Thanks,” he said, flagging the server down and putting a hand to his chest. “Like I said, whatever you want. It’s on me.”

You picked a light meal, knowing there was a high chance you couldn’t stomach something heavy. Your mom chose the highest priced meal, which Bucky merely smiled expectantly. Your dad had the good sense to not do the same. It would’ve been nice if they asked how you were or gave some sort of indication that they cared.

“How did you two meet?” your dad asked to break the tension, which only made you nervous all over again.

“My club, and I very much fell for her first,” Bucky answered easily and leaned over to kiss your temple. “I knew she was the one the moment I laid eyes on her.”

“Club?” your mom questioned. “Since when do you go to clubs?”

“It was for Addison’s bachelorette party,” your boyfriend answered for you, smiling again. “You know Addison, don’t you? I would hope so. She’s practically family to her.”

You took a sip of your water and said nothing as your parents looked more uncomfortable with each passing second. The air was awkward to say the least. Bucky, on the other hand, looked over the moon one second and was ready to kill the next. It had to be giving your parents whiplash.

“She’s a good friend,” your mom said, her smile shaky. “How’s the shop?” she asked, changing the subject.

“The shop’s great,” you said and found yourself smiling since you did love the place and your job. “Mrs. Crandle is still a great boss and-”

“And you’re still just a florist,” she cut you off dismissively with a shake of her head, wiping your smile away. “You could’ve been so much more.”

Your eyes glossed over, but you held your head high. “There’s nothing wrong with me being a florist, and I am more.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Ease up,” your dad whispered to your mom, shocking you both. Since when was he not on her side? Or was it because Bucky glared at them?

“Just a florist.” The man beside you chuckled, a dark and empty sound. “Tell them about the idea you told me about earlier today.”

The knot filled your stomach so much that you feared you’d get sick. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you said, not wanting to hear what they had to say since they never backed you up on anything.

“But it’s a great idea,” he assured you, giving your parents a smile. “Wait until you hear it.”

Your dad leaned forward and appeared interested. Was it for show? “What is it?”

Bucky nodded, encouraging you to speak up. “I went through something recently,” you said carefully, not wanting to blurt it out. “And it made me realize I want to help others and build a support system for women who have been through things.”

Your parents looked at each other as you held your breath. “That sounds ambitious,” your dad said just as carefully as you. “I realize you have good intentions, but…”

“You can’t just up and decide you want to run a charity,” your mom said, laughing and tapping her finger on the table when Bucky gripped his water glass. “You need more than just good intentions. You need experience and funding, which you have none of.”

You sighed. It was exactly what you expected. They wanted you to be more, but offered no encouragement when you tried.

“Aren’t you even going to ask what I went through?” you asked, your voice thick with emotion. For the first time, your mom looked worried. “Someone-”

“They don’t deserve to know.” Bucky took a sip before he gently set the glass down, making you eye him warily. He looked like he was ready to explode. “She isn’t just deciding, by the way. She has volunteer experience and she’s going to formulate a plan. And what she may lack in other ‘experiences’, she has passion, heart, and drive. It’s a shame you're too blind to see that.”

Your mom shrank back in her seat, looking as small as you felt. “I didn’t mean-”

“And as far as funding, I’ll be helping her with that since I don't expect either of you to lend her a thing. She has her own money, too. You just didn't know it,” he explained, bitterly laughing again at their shocked expressions. “Jesus Christ. You’re her parents. You should be proud of her. She’s loved by everyone she meets and she has thrived without your support.” He let that hang in the air before he continued. “She has more character in her finger than you two have in your entire body and I will back her up on anything and everything she needs because I believe in her.”

You placed a hand on Bucky’s thigh to ground him, your eyes welling with tears again. You were torn between not wanting him to cause a scene and for him to keep speaking because it just felt nice to hear. It felt pathetic and empowering, a strange combination.

“I just wanted you to support and love me,” you whispered, your chest aching at finally saying the words. “Why didn't you?”

Why did it hurt so much that you didn't have the love you needed?

Your dad leaned back like you slapped him while your mom didn't move. “We did and do love you,” he swore, looking to his wife for help when Bucky scoffed in disbelief. “Tell her.”

He shouldn't have to tell her that.

“We just wanted you to have direction,” your mom said, flinching when Bucky leaned forward with one elbow on the table. She couldn't even say she loved you.

“She has always had direction. You just never bothered to look where she was going,” he said, his voice soft and dangerous. “Though I guess your lack of support helped build her into the woman I love, so I almost wonder if I should thank you for not being who she needed.”

“I’m not going to sit here and let you continue to insult us,” your dad said since your mom was rendered speechless for once.

You almost warned your dad that Bucky wasn't the kind of man to mouth off to, but didn't.

“You know, I think I know now why you wanted to become a florist,” Bucky said as if he didn’t hear him. “You’re surrounded by warmth and brightness and you get to watch things bloom and grow and thrive because you never had that.”

You blinked away your tears. Bucky saw what they didn’t. You didn’t have to point it out.

“We do love our daughter, even if we didn't show it in the best way,” your dad argued, trying to take your hand across the table, but Bucky pulled you back. It was another brick added to the wall to keep people he didn’t want near you out.

“You didn’t love her enough and you never will.” He took his wallet out and threw some money on the table, more than enough to cover the meals that hadn’t yet arrived at the table. “Thank God I love her enough for all of us and I always will.”

Your mom sniffled. You hardly ever saw her cry. “I…” She trailed off when your boyfriend tossed more money on the table.

“That should cover the rest of your time here in the city. Take it. Or don’t. But I’m not going to sit here and play nice with people who make my future wife feel low about herself.” He pushed himself up and let your parents see just how large and imposing he was. “Just leave her alone the way you always have.”

They were good at leaving you alone.

“Please,” your dad begged, making you pause. “We’re sorry.”

“Empty apologies mean nothing,” Bucky said, his eyes narrowed. “Oh, and as it stands, I don’t want you at our wedding, but maybe your loving daughter will change my mind.”

“Wedding?!” your mom exclaimed.

“Yes, she’s going to be my wife and have a wonderful lifetime with me.” He smiled when you didn't disagree. “Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

Bucky helped you up from the table and led you away, not even letting you look back when you heard your mom choke on a sob. They didn’t chase after you. They never would.

Your steps felt heavy. Your head spun. It was a relief that they knew how you felt in some capacity, but you didn't feel much better. Why not?

“They’re the past and I’m your present and future,” your boyfriend whispered, slipping an arm around you when you bit your lip. “I’m the family you need.”

“Thank you for sticking up for me,” you said, making him preen.

“I’ll always defend and stick up for you,” he promised, his grip possessive. “And I'm proud of you.”

What was there to be proud of? No, you wouldn't think like that. You were a good person, and a survivor. Your parents and their lack of support and care wouldn't take that from you.

“But I didn’t even get to tell them what happened.” What if they had wanted to help? They weren’t loving, but you were still their daughter and your mom had looked worried for a second.

“You don’t need them. Not when you have me,” he said, leaving no room to argue when he nodded to Ray and Curtis who hovered nearby. “And I won't let them hurt you ever again.”

You should’ve known lunch with your parents meant Bucky would close the door. You would have no choice but to move forward. And you didn't know what that meant except that you were now one step closer to being entirely his.

This chapter took a lot out of me! As a mom who wants to show nothing but love and support to my babies (and protect them), I want to wrap Kotyonok in a huge hug. Where do we think they'll go from here? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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oaksgrove · 1 day ago

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hi love! I hope you're doing alright ♡

im here to request a tiny, little angsty piece. I can picture John being so, so tired from work that he just can't stand being touched, but his beloved needs it so badly, so they go for it (holding his hand) —don't get them wrong, they always ask! but they also had a bad day. John snaps, accidentally smacking their hand away.

little angst, with John comforting withdrawn neurodivergent reader after he accidentally snaps at them, which turns into them comforting each other because "you're tired - no, you are tired", until John moves to seek their touch himself

Tired.

Pairing: John Price x Neurodivergent!Reader

Synopsis: Some days are too much. Too loud, too bright, too sharp. When the world presses in, you don’t need grand gestures. You just need John to understand.

Warning: Sensory overload, brief miscommunication/startled response, hurt/comfort, soft reconciliation

The kettle was screaming again.

High-pitched. Piercing. It had only just started, but it dragged across your nerves like nails on glass. You stood frozen in the doorway of the kitchen, jumper sleeves stretched down past your hands and gripped tight in your fists.

It was just a kettle.

But it wasn’t.

The hallway light was flickering again, same as yesterday, the bulb stuttering in the corner of your vision. The drawer next to the stove was open again—your carefully organized cutlery now out of order, one large spoon stuffed awkwardly into the teaspoon slot like a mistake you couldn’t fix. And the boots—

Thud. Thud. Thud.

John’s heavy steps across the kitchen floor, back and forth, back and forth like a pacing bear in a too-small cage. He was muttering again, voice low but rough with frustration.

“Fucking brass—changing the op schedule last minute—bloody nightmare—”

You winced.

You weren’t scared of him. Never had been. But the noise, the pressure, the weight of it all pressing down around your shoulders—it was too much today. Too loud. Too bright. Too off.

You didn’t even realize you’d whispered his name until his voice cut through the air, sharp and fast.

“What?” he snapped, turning with a furrowed brow, hand half-raised in mid-gesture.

It wasn’t loud. Not really.

But it cracked something in you.

Your whole body stiffened. Like a rubber band stretched too thin. Your shoulders drew up high and your chin tucked down, sleeves clenched in your fists, throat closing up.

John stopped.

Instantly.

His face changed—brows falling, mouth parting with regret blooming like a bruise behind his eyes.

“Shit—no, love—wait—” he stepped toward you quickly, one hand out, then hesitated, hovering like he didn’t want to crowd you. “I didn’t mean that. Christ, I’m sorry.”

You said nothing. You looked down.

And that was somehow worse.

“I was just—” he started again, then cut himself off with a frustrated sound, softer this time. “Fuck, I was bein’ a right bastard.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he said.

You tried to breathe. The room felt too big and too tight all at once. The kettle shrieked one last time before clicking off. Still too late.

“I didn’t mean to be in your way,” you murmured. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just—everything’s loud today. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

John stared at you. His mouth twitched like he was about to argue—but then he caught himself. He crouched a little in front of you instead, like he was trying to shrink himself. His voice lowered.

“You’re not makin’ it worse. I am,” he admitted. “I know when I get like this—loud, angry—I make things heavier. And you’re carryin’ too much as it is.”

You didn’t answer. Not right away.

Just tried to unknot your fingers from your sleeves.

“I don’t always have the words,” you said finally, voice thin. “Some days I just… can’t talk properly. Or explain why everything feels so sharp.”

John’s gaze dropped to your hands, your tight shoulders, the way you were trying so hard to regulate even as your body rebelled against the room.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “Not to me.”

You looked at him. A flicker of disbelief passed across your face.

“I’m not good at being…” you trailed off. “Easy. Or quiet. Or normal.”

John’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow.

“I didn’t marry you because I wanted normal,” he said. “I married you because you feel like home.”

A beat of silence. The flickering light still buzzed. But it felt dimmer now—like the world had shifted, just slightly, around him.

“You’re tired,” you said softly. “You’ve been pacing since you got back.”

His mouth tugged into a wry smile. “No, you’re tired.”

You blinked. “Okay. We’re both tired.”

He huffed a warm, half-laugh. Then—very carefully—he leaned his forehead against your chest. Not heavy, just enough for you to feel the quiet weight of him.

“You always let me come back,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I act like a grumpy sod.”

Your hand came up without thinking. Just resting gently in his hair. Fingers threading through the soft, short strands at his crown.

“I love you,” you said quietly. “Even when you’re a grumpy sod.”

He exhaled. His arms wrapped around your waist.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” he murmured. “Sorry for making today harder.”

“You didn’t,” you whispered. “You just startled me. That’s all.”

You held each other for a long while—standing in the middle of the kitchen, kettle off, boots stilled, lights flickering quietly above. Nothing had changed. But everything had softened.

And when John eventually pulled back to press a kiss to your forehead, he didn’t say anything more.

He just reached over, finally closed the drawer the proper way, and turned off the light.

“C’mon, love,” he said gently. “Let’s go sit down. I’ll make you tea.”

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash @pythonmoth @kittygonap @rainyjellybear @anonymouse1807 @twoandahalfdimes

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aquawyrm · 2 days ago

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Hm. Hmmmm. So. The idea that asexuals are all repulsed by sex was lodged so firmly in the head of one of my exes that she could not take my word for it when I said "you'll have to say something if you want to have sex with me, because I'm not going to bring it up, but I'm happy to do this thing for and with you."

She couldn't ask for sex from me without feeling like she was forcing me to do something that I wouldn't enjoy. When this was very much not the case. She took "I don't really feel any intrinsic urge to fuck" to mean "I have to force myself in a traumatic and psychologically damaging way to have sex in order to keep a partner" which... uh... I don't have any problems with having sex? It's kinda nice? It's just also not something that I require in order to be happy. And no matter what I said, she couldn't get past "I'm ace" to any of the nuance.

So. People who aren't ace should be able to say "asexuals can still have sex!" Saying that people who aren't ace can't say that is going to encourage misinformation and people insisting that their interlocutors tell them the exact content of their personal rainbow alphabet soup, which is really none of their business, any time they go to have a conversation about any kind of queerness!

I want people who aren't ace to say "asexuals can still have sex if they want to," or "aromantics can date or get married if they decide to do that," without getting attacked over it! I just also want people to understand that, often, asexuals don't want to have sex, and that's just fine too!

It reminds me of being told that white people can't talk about how bad institutionalized racism is because they don't experience it themselves, and then seeing that the consequence of that is that white people who could have been allies in making that institutionalized racism less powerful not doing that.

Please, don't gatekeep knowledge. It doesn't help anyone. It just makes you feel Right and Good in a way that empowers misinformation and conflict and division.

The sentences "Asexuals can still have sex" and "Aromantics can still date" need to go up on the high shelf for everyone except aces and aros talking about their own experiences. From now on, everyone else has to use the revolutionary new phrase "Asexuals and aromantics can do whatever the fuck they want forever."

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rollwithdicey · 2 days ago

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Date Everything NSFW Headcanons

I've been thinking of a LOT of things since the game out and I just wanted to share some thoughts. I also haven't played a whole lot yet so I don't know a lot of the characters that well yet so I'll definitely do a part 2

Mostly female/femme reader stuff

Eddie and Volt

2 bad bitches at the SAME👏DAMN👏TIME👏

For the most part these 2 will fuck you together but there are days when they get you to themselves

Someone else said that Volt would be into tying you up or you tying him up and I can definitely see it

He'll definitely make you use your words to tell him what you what him to do, and teases you about how shy/eager you are

Eddie on the other hand tends to manhandle you a bit more, definitely loves marking you too

Surprisingly loud and groans lot when he's at it, (sometimes whimpers....who said that??)

He'll always start a little rough depending on the situation but the further you go, the more he softens up

He's not good with his emotions but he does care for you a lot and he fucks you like he's desperate, like he's scared of loosing you

He'll never admit it but he secretly loves it when you praise him

Also loves it if you're loud, just tell him how good he makes you feel

Together headcanons

I feel like Volt likes watching you and Eddie go at it in the beginning before joining himself

Volt definitely talks you through it if you're taking both of them at the same time

They're both definitely into overstimulation, you're not going anywhere until they're both done with you

They'll explore every inch of you and take notes over what makes you the loudest

I feel like they'd definitely be down to try anything new with you if you brought it up

Their foreplay would definitely be PEAK 👌

They know what gets you going and they get off on how wet they can make you

The combination of you being tied up by Volt and Eddie manhandling you is their personal fav

Might also be into blindfold and light choking if you were ok with jt

When everything's done their aftercare is the best, they'll clean you up and cuddle with you and bring you anything you need the rest of the night

Chance

Pleasure Dom 100%

He's the sweetest person ever and that definitely translates into the bedroom

He'll do almost anything you ask if it helps make you feel good

Obvi he'll be into some roleplaying in the bedroom, he'll do almost anything if you enjoy a certain scenario

Also probably into light overstimulation

He loves to feel you shaking and desperate for him

L o v e s when you say his name, or just loud in general cuz he loves knowing how good he makes you feel

Mostly vanilla for the most part, he just wants to pleasure you organically, but willing to try almost anything you might be into within reason

His aftercare too is always the BEST, he's literally there to serve you and bring you anything you need, you wouldn't even need to walk he'll just carry you

Best after sex cuddles as well, he just wants you to be comfortable and warm

Lyric

Everyone is sleeping on my man for real 😤

He doesn't act like it but he's secretly a horndog, like he's got the knowledge of every book and you really think he wouldn't know a thing or 2?

Absolutely into Sensory deprivation

With him being a genie I have a headcanon that he can summon and levitate certain things, but it only applies to books and feathers

L o v e s using feathers on you, whether it's playful tickling or you blindfolded and tied up he's using them on you

Will absolutely take his time with you until you're begging him to touch you

This might sound weird but because he's a genie I don't think he actually has a....uh....pp? But when he's realized and gets his human form he's definitely fucking you hard the second he gets the chance

Would love to read dirty romance books to you and watch your reaction every time to see what gets you going

Definitely asks if you can recreate different scenes from his favorite romance books

Super romantic always, if you're not as experienced he'll definitely go slow and be understanding, making sure you feel comfortable and have the best experience

Tony

I haven't done his whole story read but I'll add some more here when I finish it

He believes he's hot shit, he's so smooth with his words you genuinely can't help but lean into it

Experience on the other hand, he'll never admit it but sometimes doesn't always know what he's doing and might need a little guidance

But he'll also never admit he also loves praise and hearing how good he makes you feel, definitely inflated his ego more than it already is

He thinks he's good with his hands, but this is where he might need that little bit of guidance

He's into hair pulling, he loves just having a solid grip on you no matter what, but tries hard not to actually hurt you cuz he thinks it kills the mood

He definitely wasn't lying when he said he has a massive schlong, but don't tell him that you doubted him

Loves trying different positions with you, and his stamina lasts a long time so be prepared to be in it for awhile

Also a sucker for any kind of hand job or blow job, definitely a favorite for him and he'll absolutely talk you through it and tell you how he likes it

Probably doesn't understand the concept of aftercare so you might have to teach him, but once he gets it he's surprisingly caring because he wants you to enjoy your time with him

Dorian

I haven't progressed a lot in his story either but I'll try my best

He knows he's hot and he knows you think he's hot and he's A L L over it

Into light voyeurism/exhibitionism, he'll love it if you walk in on him pleasuring himself and encourages you to stay and watch, and also loves seeing you touch yourself in front of him

Spoiler if you haven't unlocked Keith yet but after hearing how Keith really felt about Dorian you try your best to be better than that

You love telling Dorian how good he makes you feel, and he knows he's good at what he does

Definitely loves seeing you on top from time to time, he wants you to ride him

Also please sit on this man's face, you won't regret it

100% uses his voice against you, loves to whisper in your ear or surprise you from behind just to rile you up

He'll be anything you want him to be from rough to soft

Loves taking care of you afterwards too, he'll never disappoint with his aftercare, and always has a habit of telling you he loves you afterwards

#date everything #date everything fanfic #date everything game #date everything fanart #date everything headcanons #date everything eddie #date everything volt #eddie and volt #date everything eddie and volt #date everything chance #date everything lyric #date everything tony #date everything dorian

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nofilterwaterfilter · 2 days ago

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also on the voice thing, we all know kris is one of the most autism coded characters to ever exist, but i really do love everything that both routes of chapter four when taken in conjunction told us about kris, being nonverbal, and how that's not painted as a bad thing?

it's pretty common i've seen for silent protagonists to be headcanoned as nonverbal autistic, but i think this is the first time i've seen it be explicitly canon, and also have it be pretty intrinsic to the narrative?

and like no, kris isn't entirely nonverbal, they do speak occasionally. but deltarune in general, and particularly ch4, paints a very strong picture of someone who (at least when they have control over their own voice) does not use words as their primary method of communication

like you can start with quiet people piss me off, or the fact that music is such an important avenue of self expression for them (made all the worse when they're not in control). noelle in ch1 asks if kris is okay when the player asks her the same background/lore questions we can ask everyone, because kris talking this much pings immediately as wrong to her. then there's everything we know about kris as a kid, and how yeah they had a bit of a mean sense of humor, but also pranks and fucking with people was a very good way for them to get attention without having to talk at all

noelle's story of the ferris wheel if you listen to all her and susie's dialogue in dess' room sticks out to me for this, and i really do love that anecdote. noelle mentions she and kris were pushed into riding the ferris wheel together as kids, she didn't really want to be there. and kris didn't say anything the whole time, for the first half they were just looking out the window. but then they decided to jump up and down and shake the entire capsule, and that's when they turned to noelle and smiled. susie goes "is that good or bad?" in response to that story and noelle says she doesn't know, but it's one of the things that gets kris' attention! and whether you believe that they were doing it to freak noelle out or because they also thought this was dumb and wanted to make it more fun for both of them (noelle isn't sure which it was either), that is how they communicate!

and when they do use words. this is the bit that makes me most emotional - noelle in weird route describes kris' voice as deadpan and mumbly. they don't like being loud, they don't talk very often, and they really struggle with inflection. all things that are normally criticisms when directed at autistic people, they're stuff autism moms use to justify their "i know my real child is in there somewhere" bullshit. but when noelle hears it again from soulless kris for the first time since the soul stuff started, she starts crying over how much she's missed hearing them talk. the soul (as we know from a variety of susie and noelle conversations) is louder, more charismatic, more confident and articulate, and it's not kris. so all those traits that are normally things autistic people get told to be more, are explicitly condemned by the narrative

and that's what makes kris being largely nonverbal such an excellent additional dimension to their story. because everything the soul does, at least in the normal routes, pretty much aligns with how people are expected to behave? kris under our control has a great social life, has friends, is likeable, isn't weird and hard to understand. and a crueler person, the kind autistic people have to deal with far too often, would say "well it's good we gave them a voice, they're not using theirs anyway"

but that's what makes it evil! it doesn't matter if kris is the kind of autistic that everyone hates, if there are things about them that don't fit in with society but that they either can't or don't want to change. their life and their voice, as infrequently heard as it is, is still theirs. and they deserve the freedom to use it however they want to

#throw in them being the only human in a town of monsters to intensify the metaphor #and like while i do love their sense of humor and i don't wanna take that away from them #it also hasn't escaped my notice that most of the pranks they played on noelle as a kid #were based on her being afraid of humans (the same way a kid in our world might be afraid of monsters)#and i don't think the fact that they went okay if humans are scary and i can't be a monster im gonna be scary is irrelevant here!#anyway kris i have such immense love for you #deltarune #kris dreemurr #meta #mine

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txniesha · 3 days ago

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Complication Sylus x Non!MC Reader Pt 5

Synopsis: You wanted to get away but he dragged you back like he always does. The only question is, why don't you leave, why do voluntarily stay?

cw: angst, typos, grammar

word count: aprox. 3000

A/N: finally got my macbook charger replaced so im back to writing. I'm excited to get back to updating this regularly and even starting a new one. I hope you guys enjoy and sorry for posting this so late at night.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 6

The ride back was a lot more awkward than you had expected. You expected screaming and anger, not pure silence. He didn’t even have music on; he was just staring quietly out of the window. It deeply unnerved you as Sylus was a quiet man but not like this. Usually his silence spoke volumes, but you couldn’t tell what he was thinking at that moment.

When you arrived back to the N109 zone you felt a sense of nervousness, you couldn’t stop fidgeting with your hands and you really wished you could smoke a cigarette. Your phone was shattered and was barely functioning, so you didn’t even have that to distract yourself during the ride. “Here” Sylus says, and you look over at him. He was holding a box, a new phone. You accept the phone hesitantly. “Don’t worry, I didn’t even start it up. I heard how angry you were when we were talking and figured you would do something stupid… like break your phone” he says, his tone a bit disinterested, nodding at your shattered phone.

You just nod and give him a silent thank you. It irritated you that he waited the entire ride back from Linkon to finally give you the phone, but it was whatever. You spent the remainder of the ride setting up the phone and transferring your things over. You weren’t really surprised when you got the service set back up and your phone lit up with missed calls and text messages.

You looked over to see Sylus' reaction to the flurry of messages but were surprised to see him still staring out of the window. This behavior unnerved you. Usually, he would make some slick remark about your ‘boyfriend texting you’ or take your phone and power it off. You decided to ignore it and respond to the messages. You weren’t surprised to have a few from Xavier asking you to please tell him you were okay. You sent back a quick message telling him you were fine and not to worry. Zayne had also sent you a message, but you decided not to look at it. You didn’t know why but you felt like seeing a message from him would make you regret agreeing to go with Sylus.

The car came to a slow stop in front of the main base of Onychinus. This base holds Sylus’ multi-story penthouse at the very top. The driver opens the door for you, and you thank him as you step out of the car. You did not miss the cold dark city of the N109 and longed to be back in Linkon already. Sylus walked ahead of you, and you couldn’t help but follow behind him like a lost puppy.

The air here felt different, and you could tell everyone in the base was more on edge than usual around him. You felt bad that everyone had to suffer the backlash of your actions and walked with your head down. The elevator ride up was tense and awkward also, with Sylus not even looking at you, just staring blankly at the elevator doors.

The doors opened up to Sylus' luxury penthouse and you stepped out into the cold dark hallways. You were surprised to see Luke and Kieran leaning against the wall talking. They had somehow managed to make it back before the two of you. They perked up at the sight of you two and rushed over to Sylus. “We did well right boss!” Luke asks in an excited tone.

Sylus nods and waves them off. “Yes yes, the two of you are free to do whatever it is you both do for the rest of the evening.” Luke and Kieran high five each other and excitedly hurry to the elevator doors. “See you later boss lady” Luke shouts after you. “Don’t get in too much trouble” Kieran adds before the sound of the elaborate doors closing symbolizes the isolation of you and Sylus.

He turns and starts walking down the corridor and you follow behind him. You’ve known Sylus for years but had never actually been inside this property of his. The ambience here was so much different than the other properties you had been to. This one felt more like home. The place was a lot more decorated and smelt distinctly of him. You followed behind him like a lost puppy, hot on his trail, not really sure about what to do and not sure if you should do anything.

He led you to a big door with immaculate craftsmanship in the wood and it opened for him as if it sensed he was there. The room was beautiful, with a couch placed against a wall and a bookshelf lined with records behind it, both placed in front of a beautiful fireplace with leather chairs surrounding it. A gold record player was set to the side of the couch and behind that was a bed in front of a full-length window, red velvet curtains positioned to the side showing you the N109 zone in all its glory. You looked to the side and saw a small bathroom positioned behind a glass wall. The room was too grand to be a guest room. It was his.

You looked at Sylus confused as he took his blazer off and placed it over one of the chairs. “This is where you will be staying” he says as he loosened his tie, his back turned to you. “Sylus I can stay in a guest room” you say quietly. You started to speak again, but he raised his hand, silencing you. He turned and looked at you, his face stoic.

He walks towards you and corners you against one of the chairs, making you fall back in it. He grabs your face and makes you look up at him. “You left me. Lied to me. Slept with another man. You don’t deserve a guest room.” He lets go of your chin and grabs your hand. He reaches into his pocket and slips out a ring. Your ring. He slips it back onto your finger and kisses it. He leans down and gets face level with you. “Don’t try to run from me again. I need you” his voice is painfully full of emotion.

He gets up and gestures toward the in-room bathroom. “Go, take a shower. I’ll have dinner and clothes waiting for you.” He then leaves the room, and you get up and walk towards the bathroom.

It wasn’t much of one, just a shower and a toilet. The walls were lined with various body washes, shampoos, conditioners, scrubs, and facial products. You were not really shocked as he was a man who very much cared about his hygiene. What shocked you was the number of feminine products in the shower that were clearly used. You sighed, biting your lip in anger. This was just another sign that she had been here—frequently, at that.

You took your time showering and did a petty thing, pouring all of the products he had used down the drain and putting them back in their place. You used some of Sylus’ unscented washes and exited the shower.

When you left the bathroom, there was a plate sitting on the table and a pair of clothes—women’s clothes. You guessed that those were hers, and you refused to even put them on. You sat on the couch and ate dinner as you waited for Sylus.

He came back into the room as you were almost finished, and he looked at the pile of untouched clothes. He smirks slightly. “Do you plan on being naked for your entire stay?” he says as he sits next to you, crossing his legs.You roll your eyes. “No. But I'm not going to wear her clothes or use the things she showers with. You say you need me, but numerous things in here scream her.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re always so busy worrying about other people and what I do and who I see when I’m not with you. If it displeases you so much, I’ll get rid of all of it.” He reaches into his pocket and throws his wallet on the table. “Go buy the things you need tomorrow. I'm done with this conversation and we’re not having it again,” he says, his voice ice cold.

He gets up off the couch and walks to the bathroom.You get up and walk toward the only other door in the room that wasn’t the one that led to the hallway, guessing it was the closet. You were correct in your assessment and started looking around for what you expected to be there.

Sure enough, there was an entire section in the closet designated for her. You grab the clothes and begin throwing them out of the closet onto the floor. As you were digging through some of the drawers, finding more of her things, Sylus came in. “What the hell are you doing?” he says, his voice full of confusion.

“Well, if I'm going shopping tomorrow, I need space, right?” you say, continuing to throw her things out of the closet. “That doesn’t mean you go trashing my room,” he says, irritation now present in his voice. “I'm not trashing it. I'm going to pick them up and throw them away when I'm done,” you say, now turning to him.

He was wrapped in only a towel, much like yourself, his hair still wet and dripping water down to his torso. You had to look away, reminding yourself you were very much upset with him and would not be tempted.

He sighs heavily. “I told you I would throw it all away. Why are you making a scene?” he says, stepping deeper into the closet and grabbing your arm to make you look at him. “I don’t trust that you mean it,” you say, scoffing and pulling your arm out from his grasp.

His jaw tightens and you can see the irritation on his face now. “You think I would keep her things around just to what, taunt you, make you feel like she’s still a choice?” You nod your head, lips pursed. “Yes. I think that is exactly what you would do, because you’re a terrible person when you feel wronged or hurt.”

His face drops into one of stoicism and his grip loosens. He grabs your face gently. “Is that really what you think of me? Some manipulative dickhead who goes to extreme measures just to keep you around?” Yes, you say to yourself in your mind.

“I know what I’ve done to you in the past twenty-four hours is a bit extreme, but I just don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. I don't know what you want from me, and I don’t know how to ask you without you blowing up on me. If you didn’t matter, if I didn’t…” he looks away, sighing, and drops his hands.

He turns and grabs a shirt off of a hanger, his shirt, and gives it to you. “I’m tired. Let’s talk in the morning. Sleep in here,” he says, and then leaves.

You stopped your rummaging and sat in silence, contemplating what had just happened. You sighed and decided to go and lay down, putting on the shirt. The bed was a luxurious one with silk sheets. Everything smelt just like him, and it brought you comfort strangely. Your moment of calmness made you realize that you weren’t just angry at him; you were angry at yourself for caring about him. For still feeling something for him, letting him get under your skin, drag you back to him. You close your eyes, deciding sleep is your only option now.

A week of awkwardness went by. A week of glances, unsaid words, and awkward dinners together. He worked in his office when he wasn't down in Onychinus base handling business. You had grown so tired of the awkwardness that you had started talking to his private chef as he made meals just to hear someone speak. Zayne and Xavier had been calling and texting, trying to get ahold of you, but you couldn't bear to talk to them knowing how much it would hurt. How you gave up on the two who cared and tried to protect you just to go back to the one who hurt you the most.

You walked into the kitchen expecting his private chef to be gone already and the kitchen to be empty, but were surprised to see Sylus in there pouring coffee, his hair messy and looking like he had been up all night. You turned to leave, but a red mist quickly pulled you back around to face him.

“No more avoiding. Sit,” he says, and your body involuntarily takes a seat at the kitchen island. He places two cups of coffee on the table and sits across the island from you. “I wasn’t avoiding you,” you say, taking the coffee and blowing the hot drink.

“Not talking to me for a week, awkward side glances, leaving the room every time I'm in there. If that's not avoiding, I don't know what is,” he says with a sly smirk. You sigh and shrug. “Maybe I just need some time to think about all of this. I don't know what you want from me, Sylus,” you say softly.

“You could've left a week ago. Could've run away again, hid better this time. I want you to stop acting like you're not here by choice,” he says softly and grabs your face. “I... I care about you a lot, more than I would like to admit.” You leaned into his touch, not ready to say the words held in your chest. “Sylus, I can't allow myself to be hurt by you again,” you say.

“I won't. I know I haven't given you much reason to trust me, but baby, I promise you, I will do better.” Before you could say anything, the elevators to the penthouse dinged. You both looked over, probably expecting the loudness of Luke and Kieran to grace your presence, but were instead surprised to see her walking down the hallway like she owned the place. Her hair was put up in a ponytail, and she dressed casually with a cup of coffee in her hand.

“Sylus,” she called out, not looking up from her phone.You look over to him and roll your eyes. “Doing better starts now. If you don't handle this, I’m leaving,” you say to him, irritated.

His jaw sets and clenches as he looks toward the doorway where she approaches. She finally looked up and saw you. You were dressed in his clothes, both of your hair messy. It wasn’t hard to guess what she was thinking.“Sy... what's going on here? Why is she here?” she asked.

You get up off the stool and walk out of the kitchen. “I'm serious, Sylus,” you say as you walk out of the kitchen. You stayed in the hallway, obviously going to eavesdrop.

“I told you it wasn’t a good time to come here right now,” Sylus says with a sigh.“What do you mean not a good time? Is it because she's here? You’re not involved with her, are you?” she says, her voice shaky and confused. There was a long and tense silence. “MC, right now is just not a good time. We can talk about this later. Just please leave,” his voice was desperate as he pleaded with her.

You hear a huff and then she comes storming out of the kitchen, not even noticing you as she walks toward the elevators and leaves. Sylus came out of the kitchen, rubbing his face. “Why didn't you tell her we're involved?” you ask.

“Please, just don't right now,” he says, rubbing his temples.“No! I'm just confused. You want me here but can't admit to her that you have feelings for me?” He grabs your arms and makes you face him. “It's more complicated than that. She... she's fate. You're—” he stops speaking and looks away.

“Say it, Sylus. Say what I am to you,” you ask desperately.

“You're a choice. My choice. Not one predestined for me. I want you, all of you,” he says softly.

You look at him and don’t see the put-together man that you usually do. You see one that was unraveling, struggling to come to terms with what he wanted and what he felt like he had to do. You don't know the extent of what he felt for her or how far back it went, but you knew those feelings would always be there.

“I know I'm selfish for wanting you... but I... I love you,” he finally says.

His ruby red eyes bore into yours with such intensity you felt like you were drowning in them. “Sylus, you make it sound like loving me is some kind of rebellion. You call her fate and me a choice, but you're hiding. I don't want to be loved privately like some kind of secret that will break the world. I want you to love me unashamedly, claim me, and show me off. And until she's out of your life, that will never happen.”

tags: @sillyfreakfanparty @crimsonmarabou @z3vl @96jnie @perqbeth @justpassingdontworry @malleus-draconias-rose @sleepykittyenergy @aboobie @syluslittlecrows @scrambledhuevos79 @madam8 @fandomenbylover@insidious-innocence @etherealsoul90 @xsammijoanneex @acasualattempt @sylusgirlie7 @jasperjokester @animegamerfox @jae48 @goldenbirdiee @zoezhive @rxelarailuj @huuvu @simphoursonly @athanasia-day @asakiyu @thirstblogforaparchedgirl @eolivy @caramelizedpopcirn @auraficial @dilf-destroyer-04 @hebreeee @noxus123 @satansdaughter123

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ghostwitchboy · 2 days ago

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My ex would constantly downplay the things I was most excited for when starting hrt. She explained it away as a trauma response to bad experiences in the past. That was fair to a certain degree, they were genuinely traumatic events, and no one can control what becomes a trigger.

But did she need to remind me that she might start associating me with monsters once hrt starts working and changing my voice (because all transmen sound the same to her) EVERY TIME I said I was looking forward to my main source of dysphoria potentially being lessened? Did she need to tack on "Hopefully you'll still be attractive/xyz" whenever I talked about things I was looking forward to in my transition? Did she need to remind me that I might just be stuck being a very pretty, feminine afab person for a very long time and I might just have to be okay with that?

No. Obviously not.

I had thought that, because we were both transitioning, we'd both support each other's transition like we said we did. That she'd hear the awful things she'd say about herself, see all the ways I tried to encourage her and remind her that I loved her for her, not for the man her family wanted her to be, and that we wouldn't be alone in our transitions. But she ended up being the only one who wasn't alone.

I got used to the concept of actual change in my transition being a bad thing, and I got used to it being a sword of damocles very quickly. Something that's really easy with near-constant reminders from literally everyone you talk to daily that you'll never be what they actually want. People who only respect your identity as long as it doesn't make them uncomfortable, as long as they can put caveats and emergency vetos and stops on it.

And then I broke up with her. There were other problems and theose problems had been present for years, and they weren't even tied to gender.

But I suddenly no longer had that very loud, very important voice drowning out mine. I could think. There weren't consequences to me expressing how I felt. I could be myself without caveats.

And then I met my current partner. And they celebrate my transition with me. I remember the first time I apologized for liking the more masculine form my body was starting to take and them reacting with confusion. Because they loved it too. They've been my biggest support and they've not only accepted my transition as a part of me, but help me be actively exited for it. They love parts of me I didn't know were possible to love and all done so immediately and without me begging them to see the virtue in it.

Parts of myself that I have always been self conscious of, they adore, and they do so loudly and with their full chest. I have never been allowed this amount of autonomy before, to the point I don't know what to do when I don't have to triple check before making a decision, which sometimes causes anxiety.

But I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life. I'm the most loved I've ever been in my life.

If you're with a partner and they say they'll leave you if you transition, if you start hrt, if you present your gender a specific way, or if your body changes a certain way, leave.

You deserve to be yourself. You deserve to be happy as yourself. You deserve to be loved as yourself. You deserve nothing less, no caveats, no vetos.

“but my girlfriend said she’d break up with me if I started hrt…” FUCKING LEAVE HER THEN!!

#trans pride #trans #trangender #pride

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orellazalonia · 3 days ago

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i love your blog and writing style so much! reading x reader fics is my only type of comfort (besides my cat) so you're making my days better and more bearable i'm really thankful for that! 😭🌷

soo i wanted to ask you to write a fic for me 🥺 i literally have NO ONE like no friends (i have 3 or 2 but not 'friends' friends you know?) and my family is messed up i feel like i have no one in my corner and i would love love love if you write something like reader is lonely and bucky goes in her life and etc etc i would be SO thankful if you choose to write this and if you don't, don't worry you're already making my days better while writing your fics 🤍🩶

Hello, dear! I’m glad you have enjoyed my work and that they’ve been of comfort to you! I appreciate the kind words. It was nice completing your request since I could relate to some of it and always enjoy writing some hurt/comfort. However, I do hope you find some good friends or people you can turn to someday! Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy! Happy reading!!!

Stayed Through it All

Summary: You’d spent most of your life convinced you were too quiet, too much, not enough for anyone to stay. But then Bucky Barnes started showing up in your life slowly and gradually became the first person who made you feel like you didn’t have to be anyone or anything else to be enough.

Word Count: 3.6k+

Main Masterlist

You didn’t mean to let it get this bad.

You didn’t even notice when the loneliness stopped feeling like something temporary and started becoming something permanent.

It was probably after your friend stopped texting back to hang out with their new friend. Maybe it was after your father stopped returning your calls, blaming you for being “too much” when all you’d done was cry quietly on the phone one night. Maybe it was the way your mother’s voice always sharpened when you dared to mention being tired. “You think you have it hard?”

Eventually, you stopped sharing at all. Even in the smallest ways. You nodded along to your coworkers' stories, laughed at the right times, learned to say “I’m good, you?” like a reflex.

But one day turned into a week, then a month of missed calls and unanswered messages. Not that there were many to begin with. Your friends, if you could still call them that, had slowly drifted, slipping into group chats you were no longer in. Family remained… complicated. Cold shoulders wrapped in guilt-trips and sharp words. You’d grown tired of pretending you didn’t notice when they began talking around you instead of to you, or when they only reached out to check boxes you didn’t fit in rather than check on you.

Work had been your only escape, but even that now felt fragile. Hours were cut, supervisors were vague or micro-managing, and you faced an endless stream of people who smiled right through you. It was like being invisible while still somehow feeling too much.

Too sensitive. Too strange. Too needy. You hated how easily you cried these days. How easily you cracked.

It got harder to go home after work with each passing day. The silence in your apartment was different now. It wasn’t peaceful anymore, it reminded you of every thought and thing wrong about yourself. How you must have done something wrong for people to not want you around. How you couldn’t host dinners or parties because there was no one to invite. How even living in this apartment was seen as another disappointment rather than an achievement by your family.

Maybe that’s why you started walking at night, even though you claimed it helped you sleep. Sometimes it did. Sometimes you wandered until your legs ached, until your phone’s battery blinked red. It wasn’t safe, but you didn’t care. You weren’t reckless, you just didn’t feel like you belonged anywhere long enough to be missed.

That night, you weren’t planning to go far. You’d just needed air. You hadn't even bothered with proper shoes, just slipped on your jacket and walked. The streetlamps buzzed overhead as a breeze tugged your hair across your face.

You focused on the ground as you rounded the corner of a quiet street, when you almost ran straight into him.

“Oh–sorry,” You said, stepping back instinctively, your hand pressed to your chest. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

The man raised his hands slightly in a gesture of peace. His eyes were sharper than the streetlamp above you, but not unkind. “You okay?”

You blinked. He was wearing a hoodie and gloves, but you’d seen enough photos on newsfeeds and headlines to know exactly who he was. “You’re… Bucky Barnes.”

He looked surprised for a split second, like he hadn’t expected to be recognized. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I am.”

You gave a small, breathless laugh. Not because it was funny, but because your nerves were starting to catch up. “Didn’t expect to bump into an Avenger tonight.”

“Didn’t expect to get bumped into,” He replied, something vaguely teasing in his tone. “But it’s alright.”

There was a pause. You shifted awkwardly, hugging your arms around yourself. “Sorry if I messed up some kind of mission or something.”

His brow furrowed, then smoothed. “Not exactly a mission, just walking the neighborhood. Making sure things are quiet.”

You nodded. “They usually are.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you in that quiet way that made you feel like he was seeing too much. “You’re out here a lot.”

You hesitated. “That supposed to be a warning?”

His expression softened immediately. “No–no, I didn’t mean it like that. Just… noticed. That’s all.”

You gave a small shrug, trying not to look embarrassed. “It’s quieter out here than it is at home.”

Something in his eyes changed, recognition. “Yeah,” He said quietly. “I get that.”

You looked at him then. His hood couldn’t hold the weight behind his eyes nor could he hide the way exhaustion lived in his posture. You didn’t know all the details, but the world had made sure you knew enough.

“I’m fine,” You added, mostly out of habit.

“Are you?” He asked gently.

You swallowed, glancing away. “I don’t know.”

There was another moment of silence before he took a slow step back, giving you space. “Do you want company? Just to walk. I won’t talk if you don’t want me to.”

You hesitated. Your gut said no. You didn’t let people in, couldn’t. Not anymore. But your heart, the part that had been bruised and stretched thin and aching for something steady whispered yes.

“…Sure,” You said. “Walking with someone sounds… nice.”

He nodded, falling into step beside you. “And what should I call you?”

You glanced at him and smiled softly, giving him your name. And for the first time in what felt like forever, it felt like someone might care enough to remember it.

You never said it out loud, but you started looking for him.

Not in an obvious way. Not with expectation. But your heart would lift, just a little, whenever you turned the corner and saw him there. Hands in his pockets, hood pulled low, and watching the world like it might turn on him at any second until he saw you. Then he softened.

He never greeted you loudly. Just a simple, “Hey,” or a nod, like you’d both agreed long ago that this was normal.

And somehow, it became exactly that. Normal.

It wasn’t every night of course, but it was often enough that absence felt strange. A small ache in your chest when he wasn’t on the corner. You told yourself it was fine, that he had a life, a job, a past filled with shadows. You weren’t owed anything.

But you missed him anyway.

There were other nights where you spoke in fragments.

“What do you do when you can’t stop thinking?” You’d asked once, voice barely audible.

“Walk,” He’d said. “Or hit things.”

You’d laughed, and he’d smiled, just a little.

Other nights, it was quiet. Just walking. Just being near someone who didn’t expect anything from you. Someone who didn’t need you to perform happiness or push down your grief.

Bucky never asked about your family. He never pried. But you could tell he knew something wasn’t right. He noticed the tension in your shoulders. The way your voice got flat when you mentioned home. The way you avoided talking about weekends or holidays altogether.

But he didn’t force you to explain. He just stayed.

And on one Tuesday night, you realized something.

You’d left work exhausted, your brain buzzing from a manager’s sharp words and the hollow ache of pretending to be okay all day. You weren’t thinking about much when you turned the corner that night and there he was.

Same spot. Same faint, crooked smile when he saw you.

And it hit you: he was waiting.

Not just showing up. Not just passing by. He was waiting for you.

You swallowed thickly, not trusting yourself to say much.

“Hey,” You managed.

“Hey,” He said, falling into step beside you.

Like always. Like routine. Like something steady that just kept growing.

Because the next night, he was there again. This time, with two paper cups.

“Tea,” He said simply, holding one out to you. “Figured I’d guess this time.”

You took it, your hands feeling the warmth from the cup.

“…You always this nice?” You asked softly, only half teasing.

He glanced at you. “No.”

You smiled faintly. “So why with me?”

He looked away, the way he always did when he was thinking too much. “Because you remind me of me,” He said finally. “Back when I thought no one saw me.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“…I see you,” You whispered.

He looked at you then, something softening in his expression. “I know.”

And that was the night you stopped pretending it didn’t mean anything. The night you realized you weren’t just walking anymore. You were building something. And Bucky Barnes was becoming part of it.

One afternoon, you didn’t expect to see him in the daytime.

Your connection lived in the quiet hours. After sunset, under flickering streetlamps, where shadows were long and words were soft. That was your world. The only time you felt allowed to exist without needing to explain yourself.

But then came Saturday and there he was.

You spotted him from across the street. His hands in the pockets of his jacket. He looked more like a guy running errands than a former assassin on patrol.

He saw you at the same time, gave a little lift of his chin and crossed the street with purpose. You froze halfway to the bus stop, unsure why your stomach flipped the way it did.

“Hey,” He said, a little breathless, like he’d hurried.

“Hi,” You replied, confused but smiling anyway. “Didn’t think I’d see you in daylight. Thought you were strictly nocturnal.”

Bucky actually chuckled, quiet and rare. “Yeah, well… I wasn’t sure if this would be weird.”

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was gonna grab lunch. There’s this spot a few blocks away. It’s tiny, but kind of quiet. I figured I’d ask if you wanted to come.”

You blinked. It took you a full second too long to register what he meant.

“Oh,” You said. “Like… lunch. Together?”

“Yeah,” He said, then quickly added, “Just food. I mean, not like–unless you–hell, I’m bad at this.”

You bit back a laugh. “You’re fine. I just… didn’t expect that.”

“I figured,” He said, eyes scanning your face. “If you say no, it’s okay. We can just stick with nightly walks.”

That made your heart ache in a way you didn’t expect.

Because part of you wanted to say no. Not because you didn’t want to go. But because some part of you was convinced you’d ruin it. That he’d realize you weren’t enough.

That someone like him who was kind, observant, and careful, wasn’t meant to stick around people like you. People who carried too much in their chest and didn’t know how to set it down.

But then you looked at him. Bucky Barnes who had every reason to close himself off and still offered you tea when you were shaking, and quiet when you needed space.

And he was asking to spend time with you. Not out of pity. Not out of obligation. Just… asking.

You nodded. “Okay.”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “Yeah. Lead the way.”

The place was small and tucked between a bookstore and a laundromat. It was the kind of quiet that didn’t feel empty, just calm. You sat across from each other at a little table by the window. And for the first time, you talked in full sentences. About music. Food. The ridiculous number of people who apparently still thought Bucky liked plums because of some file Steve mentioned once.

You laughed more than you had in weeks. He smiled more than you’d ever seen.

You caught him watching you a few times, like he couldn’t quite believe you were there. And every time, your heart did that quiet, painful twist that came with realizing someone actually wanted you around.

You didn’t talk about family. Or trauma. Or loneliness. But you didn’t need to. Not yet.

Because for now, you let yourself sit across from a man who kept showing up. And for once, you didn’t feel like a burden for accepting it.

When it ended, you both had exchanged numbers and you smiled the whole way home. Not a big, giddy grin. Not the kind that buzzed with new love or rose-colored excitement. Just a small, warm curl at the corner of your mouth that wouldn’t go away.

Because the lunch had been… easy. Natural.

You didn’t remember the last time you’d felt like that with someone. Just sitting across from them and not having to work so hard to be interesting, or likable, or fun. You hadn’t needed to fill the silence, because Bucky never made silence feel like failure.

And he’d even paid, grumbled a little about modern pricing, but still held the door open when you walked out.

You should’ve felt safe. Happy. But of course, that voice came back. The one that always did when something good happened.

He was just being polite. He probably felt bad for you. You talked too much. Or not enough. Or said something weird. He’s probably second-guessing it now.

You told yourself to stop, that none of it was true. But you’d lived most of your life watching people lose interest in you like clockwork. So instead of walking with that same lightness you felt at the table, you found yourself shrinking again.

Head down. Hands in your jacket pockets. Smile fading, bit by bit

And to your surprise, texted later that evening.

Just a simple:

Made it home okay?

You stared at it for a full minute.

Then typed:

Yeah, thanks. And… thanks again for lunch. I really appreciated it.

You added a second message, hesitating.

You didn’t have to do all that.

You almost deleted it. But your finger slipped, and it sent.

A minute later, he responded:

Didn’t do it because I had to.

Another pause and he sent another message.

I wanted to.

You stared at those three words for a long time.

The next night, you almost didn’t go on your walk. You weren’t sure if he’d be there. If it would be weird now. If the quiet thing you’d built would somehow be different just because you’d shared a meal like two normal people.

But you went anyway. And when you rounded that corner, heart in your throat, he was there. Same spot. Same faint smile when he saw you.

“You came,” He said.

You swallowed. “So did you.”

“Of course I did.”

And just like that, without needing to explain the ache in your chest or the thoughts still clawing at the back of your mind, he started walking beside you again. As if the doubt within you never stood a chance.

However, good things never last.

You hadn’t meant to cry.

You’d gotten good at holding things in. Good at keeping your voice even, your expression neutral, your heart locked up behind carefully stacked defenses. You knew how to keep walking. How to keep breathing through the ache.

But some days, some days it didn’t matter how strong you tried to be. And that night, everything hurt.

It wasn’t even about something new. Nothing fresh or sharp. It was the old stuff, the words that never really healed. The ones that resurfaced in this mornings phone call with your father, when he’d said it without hesitation. “You’re just too hard to love, you know that?”

It had gutted you then and it still did.

Because even if you didn’t show it, you’d started to believe it.

The way friends drifted away. The way family only called when they needed something or to criticize. The way people got tired of your quiet, your sadness, your needs. Even when you tried to shrink yourself, to not ask for anything… it was never enough.

You were always too much, and somehow not enough all at once.

So when you walked that night, when you saw Bucky waiting in his usual spot, you almost turned back.

But he saw you. And the moment he did, something in his expression shifted.

You didn’t say anything.

You just walked right up to him, stopped short, and stood there with your arms crossed tight over your chest, like if you let them drop, everything would spill out.

Bucky’s voice was soft. “You alright?”

You shook your head once, too quickly as your voice cracked when you whispered, “Why do you keep showing up?”

He blinked. “What?”

You looked at him then, eyes confused. “Why do you keep coming back? Why do you keep… being nice to me?”

He took a step closer, cautious. “Because I like being around you.”

“You shouldn’t.” The words burst out before you could stop them. “I’m not…– people don’t stay. They get tired of me. They always do.”

“Who said that to you?” He asked quietly, his voice low, steady.

You laughed bitterly. “Does it matter… Friends. Family. Pretty much everyone I ever let get too close.”

You looked away, blinking hard.

“They all said the same thing… that I’m just too hard to love.”

It was out now. Ugly, raw, and terrifying. You waited for him to flinch. To pull away. To prove them right. But he didn’t.

He stepped closer, slow and sure. He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he reached out, one hand hovering at your shoulder until you gave the tiniest nod.

Then his palm pressed gently against your arm.

“They were wrong,” He said.

You swallowed hard. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” He said firmly. “Because I know me. And I don’t waste time on people I don’t care about.”

Your throat tightened.

He wasn’t trying to fix it. He wasn’t telling you to be positive or that it would pass. He wasn’t saying it didn’t matter.

He was just there. With you.

“You’re not hard to love,” He spoke softer now. “You were just surrounded by people who didn’t know how.”

And that broke something loose.

The first tear slid down your cheek. Then another. You tried to speak, to apologize, but your voice disappeared behind a sob that ripped straight out of your chest.

You folded into yourself, ashamed, but Bucky caught you. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms. Not tight. Not smothering. Just enough.

Enough to say I’m here. Enough to say You’re not too much for me. Enough to say I’m not going anywhere.

And in his arms, safe for once, you let yourself cry.

Really cry.

For the first time in a long, long time.

When the tears had finally stopped, you felt worn out like a storm fading to drizzle. You’d stood in the dark with Bucky for longer than you realized, his arms wrapped gently around you. He never rushed you. Never asked you to talk more or explain.

And when you finally stepped back, breath unsteady but lighter somehow, he didn’t say a word about the crying. Just looked at you like you were whole.

“…I’m okay now,” You’d whispered, not sure if you believed it yet.

His head tilted slightly. “You want to walk?”

You nodded.

And you walked until you were both sitting on a cracked bench outside a 24-hour café near a closed bookstore. He’d offered to buy you something, no pressure, just a question, and you said yes without thinking.

It felt… nice. Like last time. Letting someone do something for you without guilt clinging to it.

You had a small paper cup between your hands of warm chai, still steaming. He had black coffee, of course. Of course he drank it black.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but the quiet wasn’t awkward. It was gentle. Companionable. Like your sadness didn’t scare him. He wasn’t expecting you to bounce back or smile to make him feel better.

He was just there.

You took a small sip, then glanced over at him. He was watching the empty street like he was half on patrol, half at peace.

“Thanks for the tea,” You murmured.

He looked at you then, eyes soft. “Thanks for trusting me.”

You looked down at your drink. “I didn’t mean to cry like that.”

“I know,” He said. “It’s okay.”

You hesitated, then asked softly, “But why didn’t you walk away?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just leaned back on the bench, hands wrapped around his cup like it grounded him.

“Because I know what it’s like,” He said finally. “To think you’re too broken or too much. To think you’ve ruined the moment just by being yourself.”

You glanced at him, surprised at the honesty.

He kept his gaze forward. “I’ve been there. I still go there. But… I also know how much it means when someone stays anyway.”

Your heart ached in a different way now. Not from pain. From being understood.

“Thank you,” You whispered.

“Anytime.”

You sat in silence again, drinking your tea slowly, letting the warmth from the cup seep into your fingers.

The city was so quiet this late. No shouting. Barely any cars. Just wind and dim streetlights.

Eventually, you looked over and gave him a small smile. “You think next time we could get donuts or something instead?”

Bucky’s mouth twitched, his version of a grin. “You saying I’m not a good coffee date?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile widened. “You’re passable.”

He let out a soft huff of amusement. “Alright, donuts next time. But only if they have the jelly-filled ones.”

You nudged his arm lightly. “You got a deal.”

And just like that, something fragile began to stitch itself back together inside you.

It may not have been fixed or finished. But it was held together by his love and care.

And for now, that was more than enough.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #marvel fic #marvel x reader #bucky x you #hurt/comfort #bucky hurt/comfort #angst fic #angst #request fulfilled #thank you for the request!

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xclowniex · 10 hours ago

Text

Broke up with my girlfriend earlier tonight 👍

And it does suck, but not as bad as I thought it would be.

I didn't even plan on breaking up with her tonight. It just sorta happened.

For the past month and a half it's been almost like I've been begging for her attention. And I do understand she has had more on her plate recently, but it's not like it's been impossible to fit me into her schedule and still have time to herself. Half of it has honestly been poor time management on her part. And I was giving her benefit of the doubt, and was going to give it another week before bringing it up as an issue to talk about as I was giving her benefit of the doubt as assuming the busy period would end.

However at dinner she kinda dropped the news that at the end of her degree in 18 months she will be moving to the south island. No ifs no buts no maybes, she will be doing so. And I do understand why she wants to move, it's just that she did not factor me into her plans.

When she dropped that news my first question was, "where do i fit into your plans". And she admitted she didn't think about me. I asked like 10 different questions to get like a proper understanding. But essentially she didn't want us to like break up or anything, but she already made up her mind 100%.

Now I'm pretty open about moving cities and even islands. As long as I can get a good job I don't care. But she wanted to move to a small town without really any office roles... which is the only thing I can do due to my career path. And she didn't even think about if she wanted me to move down with her.

And when we first started dating, we both said we cannot do long distance and are wanting something longterm.

And the decision for me to break up with her was because she should have either factored me into her future plans OR communicated that what she was wanting out of the relationship had changed. Not "I don't want us to break up but also I am not going to account for you in my future plans please stay together with me".

I respect myself too much to essentially be this person she is only with for the sake of being with someone.

And I am proud of myself for not pushing my own feelings aside, and it was an amicable breakup, which I am glad about.

It's also made me realize what I am looking for in a relationship. And whilst I'm not like "I will only date jews", honestly at this time I would prefer to date a woman or non binary person who is Jewish.

#vent #wlw #lesbian #jumblr

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citysuk · 3 days ago

Text

when we were young | lh44 & nr6

chapter 2

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!strategist x nico rosberg

summary: "flashbacks when you meet me, your buzz cut and his hair bleached. even in my worst times, you could see the best of me. flashback to my mistakes, my rebounds, my earthquakes. even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me."

words: 1952

warnings: love triangle, fluffiness, 3 idiots who don't know how to really talk about their feelings. social class difference. eventual angst. eventual brocedes conflict.

notes: wanted to post yesterday but it was my birthday so i wasn't really on my phone, but it's here now! like and reblogs are very much appreciated 🤍

series masterlist | previous | next | masterlist

Monte Carlo, Monaco — June 2000

The plane ride to Monaco felt like stepping into another life.

The small charter jet buzzed softly as it cut through the clouds, but the real noise was inside your chest — nerves flickering, heart beating a little too fast. You’d never flown for something like this before. Not for races you weren’t driving in. Not for this world — the one Nico seemed to belong to so easily.

He sat across from you, legs stretched out, flipping lazily through a glossy Grand Prix program. His hair was messy in that way it always was when he wasn’t trying. He glanced up and caught your stare.

"You’re going to love it," Nico said softly, like a quiet promise. "The streets, the harbor... the cars. There’s nothing like it."

You smiled faintly, trying to hide the nerves. "Big words for a place I’ve only ever seen on TV."

He smirked. "You’ll see."

Across the aisle, Lewis sat slouched comfortably in his seat, earphones half-hanging from one ear, bobbing his knee to the faint beat of something only he could hear. His buzz cut caught the pale cabin light every time he moved. But for once — finally — he wasn’t wearing that wary frown. He grinned when you glanced over.

"Can you believe this?" he said softly, excitement breaking through. "Monaco. The real thing. Not some magazine or broadcast — we’re actually going."

You grinned at his boyish energy. "And here I thought you didn’t care about fancy places."

He chuckled. "I don’t care about the suits and yachts. But the track? The drivers? That’s real." His dark eyes gleamed, wide with the kind of hunger you knew from the karting paddock. "That’s what I want to see."

Nico leaned over slightly, catching Lewis’ words. "See? Even him can get excited sometimes."

Lewis shot him a smirk. "Only when it’s about cars, Rosberg. Don’t get used to it."

Their teasing felt light this time — the way it used to feel, before the edges got sharper.

When you landed, Monaco hit you like sunlight on water. Everything gleamed. The air smelled of sea salt and warm stone, and the drive from the airport wound past cliffs and endless blue harbor, yachts bobbing gently on the waves. You watched Lewis press against the window like a kid, grinning every time a Ferrari or Aston Martin slid past in traffic.

"Man... this is something else," he murmured, half to himself. "This is where it all happens, huh?"

Beside him, Nico just smiled like he belonged here. Like this was normal.

"My family’s apartment’s not far from the paddock," Nico said over his shoulder. "We’ll drop your bags, then I’ll show you the pit lane."

Lewis turned to you, eyebrows raised. "The pit lane. We’re actually going to see it." He gave a short laugh. "Guess Monaco’s not so bad after all."

You couldn’t help but smile.

The apartment was ridiculous. Marble floors. Glass walls overlooking the sea. You stood in the wide living room, turning in slow circles, feeling out of place in your scuffed sneakers, helmet bag still slung over your shoulder.

"This is... wow," you breathed.

Nico laughed softly behind you. "Told you. Monaco’s different."

Lewis let out a low whistle, standing at the balcony door, staring out at the endless blue. "Mate... if this is your everyday view, you’ve been holding out on us."

"Relax, Hamilton," Nico said, brushing past him with a grin. "No one’s judging you here."

"Not judging," Lewis said lightly, his grin wide and real. "Just wondering how the other half lives." Nico turned back to you, smile softer now. "Come on. Let’s go see the paddock."

You walked behind them down the quiet streets toward the track. The city buzzed already — crowds building, flags waving from balconies, engines growling far off like distant thunder. Nico pointed out corners of the circuit as you went. "This is the swimming pool section. Fast and tight. They say if you nail this part, you’ve mastered Monaco."

Lewis let out a long breath, shaking his head. "Tight’s one word for it. No room for mistakes here." He was closer to you now, walking beside you, his shoulder brushing yours in the crowd. His grin hadn’t faded. "Crazy, right?" he murmured. "One day... we’ll race here for real. Can you imagine?"

You smiled softly. "Yeah. One day." But then Nico stopped ahead, grinning like a kid. "There," he said, pointing. "The paddock."

You turned the corner — and stopped, breath caught. It was another world entirely. Towering trailers. Motorhomes bigger than houses. Mechanics rushing everywhere. And the cars — real Formula 1 cars — sleek and fierce under the sunlight, their paint gleaming like liquid metal.

"Want to get closer?" Nico asked, stepping beside you.

"Can we?" you whispered.

He smiled. "You’re with me." As you followed him deeper into the maze of the paddock, Lewis caught up beside you, wide-eyed.

"Feels like walking through a dream," he said softly. "Like I’ve been watching this place my whole life and now I’m inside it."

You bumped his shoulder gently. "Maybe this’ll be your future."

His gaze flicked to you, grin soft. "Ours. Don’t forget that."

The Mercedes garage loomed ahead — silver shirts, crisp logos, the low murmur of engine tech. Nico’s hand brushed your elbow, steering you closer.

"Come on. Want to see inside?" You felt Lewis tense for the first time, hesitating slightly behind you. But when you glanced back, he smiled again, pushing past it.

Inside the garage, the car sat like a beast at rest. Perfect lines. Silent menace. The smell of fuel and rubber filled the air. Engineers whispered to each other, moving fast and precise.

"You’ll be here someday," Nico murmured, close beside you. His voice was low, almost private. "I know it."

His hand touched yours for just a breath — warm, sure — before slipping away again.

And when you turned, you caught Lewis watching, his eyes darker, thoughtful now.

Before you could speak, Nico called from ahead, grinning, waving you forward toward the shining car.

And as you stepped between them — caught between Lewis’ quiet excitement and Nico’s golden world — you felt the shift again.

Sunday at Monaco was nothing like the quiet karting weekends you knew.

It was noise and heat and color everywhere — the roar of the engines bouncing off the old stone buildings, the flash of sun on chrome, the smell of burning rubber in the air. The streets throbbed with energy, the kind that made your skin prickle and your heart race.

You stood at the edge of the balcony overlooking the main straight, leaning against the railing as the cars shot past below like silver and red missiles. The noise hit your chest like a heartbeat — loud and alive. You could feel every gear change in your bones.

Nico stood beside you, sunglasses pushing his hair back, the breeze tugging at the edges of his shirt. He pointed to the corner ahead.

"That’s where Senna crashed once," he said, voice raised over the engine scream. "Even the best can make mistakes here."

You glanced sideways, watching him more than the track. He looked completely at home — as if this was his world already. Maybe it was.

"And there?" Lewis’s voice broke in behind you, closer than you’d expected. His grin hidden behind the shadow of his cap. "That’s where I’ll pass you one day, Rosberg. On the inside. You won’t even see me coming."

Nico gave a quiet laugh, not taking his eyes off the cars. "You can try. Monaco doesn’t forgive mistakes.".

The cars blurred past again, the sound like tearing sky. You gripped the cold metal rail tighter, breath caught.

Lewis stepped beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. "Look at this place," he breathed. "The track. The crowds. I want this." His voice was low but burning. "I want to be down there. Fighting. Racing. You too, yeah?"

You hesitated. The words caught in your throat, bitter. "Nah," you said softly, trying to keep your smile light. "F1's not for people like me."

They both turned at that — two pairs of eyes fixed on you now. "What do you mean?" Nico asked, frowning slightly.

You shrugged, eyes on the cars flashing by below. "It’s not for girls. Not really. They don’t let us in. Not where it counts."

Lewis let out a quiet breath beside you. "Says who?"

"Everyone," you muttered. "Look around. You see any women down there in helmets? On the grid? In the cars?" You gave a small, bitter laugh. "I’m not stupid. It’s a boys’ world. Always has been."

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The cars kept screaming past — louder than ever now. Then Nico leaned in close, voice low but firm. "That’s bullshit," he said. "If anyone could do it, it’d be you. You’ve beaten me before. You’ve beaten both of us."

You glanced at him — the certainty in his eyes made your stomach twist. "Doesn't matter if I can drive," you said softly. "They'll never let me through the door. Sponsors, teams... they don’t want a girl in the car. I’d be lucky to hold a stopwatch in the pit lane."

Lewis shook his head, his jaw tight. "You really believe that?" His voice was different now — serious, quiet. "Then what are you even doing here? You don’t race for them. You race for you. You know you’re good enough."

You blinked, surprised by the heat in his voice. "Easy for you to say," you muttered. "You’ve got a seat waiting for you someday. Both of you do."

Nico tilted his head, smiling faintly. "And you think I’m here because I’m lucky? I’ve worked for this. So will you. If you want it."

You frowned. "Wanting’s not enough. Not when the rules are made to keep you out."

Lewis stepped closer, his hand brushing your arm — warm, steady. His voice dropped low, just for you. "Then break the rules," he said. "You’ve been breaking them since karting. Don’t stop now."

Your breath caught.

For a moment the roar of the cars fell away — the whole world narrowing to the space between the three of you. Nico’s quiet certainty. Lewis’s fire. Your own doubt twisting like wire in your chest.

"Stop acting like the future’s already written," Nico added softly. "You decide what happens next. Not them."

You looked away, down at the track — the blur of speed and noise, the life you’d dreamed about but never dared to really believe was yours.

"Maybe," you whispered. "But it’s not that simple."

Lewis bumped your shoulder gently, a rare grin breaking through. "Nothing good ever is."

Nico glanced over, smile crooked. "Even Lewis gets something right sometimes."

For the first time that day, you laughed — quiet, but real. The cars screamed past again, the crowd roaring with them, but the moment between you three held steady, deeper than the noise.

"Come on," Nico said after a pause. "Let’s go down to the pit lane. You’ve seen it from up here. See it where it matters."

Lewis grinned, falling in step beside you. "Get used to it. You’ll be down there for real someday. Helmet on. Engine running."

You shook your head — but the spark inside you flickered anyway.

As you followed them down toward the track — caught between Nico’s golden confidence and Lewis’s fierce belief — you felt something shift. Small but real.

Maybe this wasn’t a boys’ world after all. Maybe the door wasn’t as locked as they wanted you to think.

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dissociativewriter · 4 hours ago

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OH MY! congrats on the 400 followers!!! and for the event can't you write some angst with sylus x nonmc, please??? don't know if you have listened to WILDFLOWER by Billie eilish, but i really wanna see what would be born out of that??? not pressure tho! (also sorry for my english but im not a native speaker haha)

thank you!! this was an amazing request! it took me a while to write it, but i really like this. i hope you do too!

request event

The base hadn’t been quiet in months.

It was nice, you thought. A welcome change. In all your years at Onychinus there was always a tense silence. Always something that seemed to say this was an operation, not a home.

That all changed when Miss Hunter arrived, though.

Everything seemed warmer, splashes of color dotted around and a constant hum of chatter echoed through the space.

You’d never seen Sylus like this. Even when he was laughing and messing around with Luke and Kieran, he hadn’t allowed himself to be this happy. It seemed like there was something holding him back, something expectant.

Now the air was lighter, his shoulders lost their tension, his laughs came more freely. Things seemed to be looking up.

That made the newfound silence all the more jarring.

Miss Hunter had left just as quickly as she’d came. It wasn’t a huge ordeal. She hadn’t made a big deal out of it. There was just an conversation, spoken in quiet tones behind closed doors. Next thing you knew, she was gone in a mess of tears and broken promises.

You’d let Sylus alone for a time after that. Taken up the responsibilities of Onychinus in his stead, the role practically second nature ever since he’d promoted you to second-in-command a few years ago.

It was quiet again. You didn’t see much of the Boss, and you never expected to see Miss Hunter again.

But she’d shown up at your doorstep one night within the first week of their separation. Tear tracks on her cheeks and a heart-wrenching sob asking for someone to talk to.

You’d obliged, of course. How could you turn her away when she was like this? Pulling her into you, rubbing her back as she sobbed into your shoulder. She blubbered that she didn’t have anyone to talk to, that none of her friends really knew Sylus enough to cry about him to.

She explained that even if they weren’t together, she didn’t want to expose him and his identity like that.

You nodded, holding her close as she seemed to cry herself dry. She did most of the talking that night. Talking about how it had been a mutual decision, how they both felt like they just weren’t right for each other.

Miss Hunter had said she never expected falling out of love to hurt so bad.

The next morning, Sylus emerged from his room for the first time in four days. Silvery hair messy, eyes bloodshot, usually steady hands now trembling at his sides.

You sat with him. Wordlessly offered him a cup of coffee. He took it with a nod of thanks, holding it close instead of drinking it, like he was willing its burning warmth to thaw the cold that had taken over.

It became a routine. You’d sit with him, allow the quiet that had been uncomfortable, that had had something missing, to settle until it became something resembling understanding.

Sylus tried to distract himself with the work of Onychinus. You limited his access and told him he needed to sit with his grief and understand it before it consumed him entirely, not avoid it with gunfights and business deals.

Sylus never was able to fight you when you got like this.

He let you take care of him in a way no one had in a long time. It was gentle, quiet. A cup of tea here, a gentle reminder there. Never asking too many questions, never pushing for something more. He didn’t mention how much he appreciated it. He knew he didn’t have to.

You should have seen it coming, you thought. He was vulnerable. You were there. You should have expected it when the touches began to linger, when he began reaching for you.

You always thought of her when he did that.

Maybe you brushed it off because you thought you’d never compare to her. After all, what was the worry, when she was so bright and outgoing when you just seemed to fade into the background.

“No one knows me as well as you do,” Sylus muttered one night, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve always been there for me. I think— no, I know…”

Your breathing felt like it stopped. All you could think of, all you could see in the back of your mind was Miss Hunter. Should you feel this guilty? This hurt?

Were you just a replacement, something to fill the void, that fresh wound that kept bleeding?

“I love you,” Sylus whispered, low and reverent.

You didn’t move your hand from his. You didn’t say how all you could think about was how Miss Hunter must have felt.

Sylus didn’t mean to hurt you. You knew that.

Maybe being quiet was for the best.

comments and reblogs appreciated and asks open! <3

masterlist

@dolledbunnytail @sleepykittyenergy @orbitraiden @coffeedragonhobbyist

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isetfiretomyself · 2 days ago

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Yandere Male Chef X G/N Actor Reader

This is my first request for a Yan online! YIPPEE :D I don't think I'd respond to questions again because damn it ruined my engagement last time. This took me way longer then expected to get done(⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠)Guys I need you to understand how long it took me to figure out how this guy was gonna lose his mind(⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) - Jay

Trigger Warnings! Putting people in harms way, Unhealthy Protectiveness, Violence, Gore, Cannibalism, Tricked into Cannibalism, This Fic gets a little darker then my normal stuff! This is all fictional I don't condone toxic behaviour or crimes irl!

🔪Yandere Chef who worked at his families restaurant till he was 17. He was taught to cook with love and care! He then got the opportunity to learn professionally were he spent years working with the best of the best! It's wasn't about fun anymore it was about perfection.

🔪Yandere Chef didn't like people by the end of his training and worked out private work was so much more isolating then high class restaurants. He would come in for romantic dinners, parties, whatever, whenever. He didn't care.

That's where he met you. Wade learnt what to expect from certain clients. Influences usually want small appetizers for parties, athletes want meals they can heat up but you. Actor's usually want a show piece for events, you just wanted your favourite meal alone on your birthday. How bizarre?

🔪Yandere Chef knocked at your penthouse. You opened the door. "Hiya! You're here!" Wade isn't used to people talking so excitedly around him. It reminds him of his childhood before yelling negatively was what ingrained into him. He didn't really like having these feelings brought up in him.

🔪Yandere Chef was lead to your kitchen where you had all the ingredients neatly laid out, cute. What surprised him more was when you sat opposite him elbows on the counter. "You don't need to be about. I won't burn your kitchen down." "Oh! I know! I just wanted to keep you company! If I'm allowed?"

🔪Yandere Chef was taken aback. "Who am I to deny you on your birthday?" He was so curious about you that for the first time he questioned a client. "Why are you alone on your birthday?" "Oh! I prefer being on my own!" "Amen to that." He mumbles while focusing on the meal.

He plated your meal and to his surprise you ate all of it. If it's one thing he's learnt from celebrities is that they never eat everything. Something about being "humble" or not being "greedy", whatever it's insulting to see the food he spends hours cooking get only half ate.

"This is so good! You're so talented!" You were so excited over his food it threw him off guard.

🔪Yandere Chef felt a little embarrassed. He's not had so much praise since he was a child. He was more thrown of guard when you tried tipping him on your birthday. "You don't need to do that." He tried resisting but you wouldn't let it happen. "Please, I really, really want to! I haven't had such a delicious meal in a while!"

Wade went home looking going through the cash you gave him. Most of the time celebrities pre pay, completely ignore him and send him on his way. On a bad day he'll actively hear people negatively talk about his food. You were so happy it was such a harsh contrast.

🔪Yandere Chef was hired for a house warming party. Some rich actor wanting show off his mansion. He was there hours early making appetizers because none wants a real meal anymore. He had everything set up and was about to leave and till his client stood in his pathway.

"Listen it's totally optional but you're hard to get and I think if you showed your face it'd be pretty cool. I mean you're notoriously hard to get and I did give you a generous tip."

That's how Wade ended up with swirling red wine around in a glass, sat on an expensive sofa debating if he should stain it. He had people come up to him mainly trying to hire him or trying to get gossip on his prior clients. He was going to leave when he hears someone from the other side of the room. "Oh my! Wade! Hiya!" You come rushing over. "I thought you made the food, it's so delicious!" Then like a proud parent you dragged him around telling everyone how good the food is and how they should try it. It was so embarrassing!

🔪Yandere Chef was leaning on a wall watching you talk to others. Why does he always feels so embarrassed around you? That's when your laugh brought a realisation within him. You're so pure in such a vile industry. You remind him of his family restaurant, where there was hard work but joy in his creations.

Wade noticed the way some of the others side eyed you. He felt a scoff come from his throat, they were so stuck up, it irritates him.

🔪Yandere Chef takes his hands in yours. "Would you want me to make you another meal? This one's on me." The host's visitors were all shocked. Behaviour like this wasn't common! He noticed the eyes on you made you embarrassed. "I don't mind..." You mumble.

🔪Yandere Chef was making something for you in your kitchen. He was actually trying to engage with you this time. "So." Wade said cutting up vegetables. "You're an actor but you get nervous at parties, why?" He watches you trace circles in your counter. "I don't know...I was a child actor so I suppose it's all I've known." His face hardens.

🔪Yandere Chef thinks you deserve better. I mean you're a good actor but you're better then acting in his eyes. "How many movies have you been in then?" "Didn't you look me up?" "No?" Everything went silent. You had lunged forward over the counter and hugged him. "You're the first person not to goggle me in a while..." You mumbled into his shoulder.

Now the two of you had a sort of alliance or whatever. You called it a friendship.

🔪Yandere Chef was cooking for some rich couple while they were watching TV in the living room. He didn't mind, the women was sweet but the man was cold. He's glad they left him alone. He could faintly hear the TV when your voice was on the screen. Must of been a show or movie you were in.

Wade felt himself smile when he can hear your faint voice from the screen. That's when he can hear his client being rude about your appearance.How dare they!?

🔪Yandere Chef was following a recipe from the husbands descendants. The ink was smudged already in some places so what if he smudged the part on how much spice he was suppose to put in the meal?

It was too spicy. The couple started yelling at him. But he simply pointed at the recipe he followed. By the end the couple was apologising to him completely unaware Wade was in fact to blame.

🔪Yandere Chef didn't like people who were rude to his friends. And you were his friend now. You said so.

🔪Yandere Chef started hanging out with you more and realised maybe he didn't hate all rich people. (Acting like he isn't yk...rich)You were so down to earth. Wade had you round his house watching movies when and advert for your show came on.

You cringed leaning on wades chest to hide your face. "Mute it! Mute it!" You cried. "Seriously you don't need to act." He rubbed the side of your arm. "I just don't want to feel useless.." That's when it hit him, the best idea he ever had in his entire life.

🔪Yandere Chef opened a restaurant! The famous private chef opening up a small restaurant in a busy part of the city. He had the help from his business friend (Yandere Ex Wife cough cough) to insure it.

🔪Yandere Chef needed your help. Well need is a strong word. It gave you a reason not to act, helping your friend! The more you helped, the closer you two got, the closer you two got, the stronger he's feelings for you grew. Manifesting into someone more sinister.

Who complemented him it never meant anything compared to you. You would come in to help the chef's to clean the kitchen after the shifts sometimes too! Aren't you a cutie?

🔪Yandere Chef was opening up early in the morning. Putting his keys into the door but before turning he hears your voice. "Wade! I'm on my way to a magazine shoot but I made you something!" You show a box of homemade sweet treats. "Don't eat them Infront of me...I don't want to know what a renowned chef thinks of my online recipes!" He watches you run off. He hates that your still in the public eye. So casually complacent with your discomfort because what if the change is worse than the norm?

🔪Yandere Chef sat in an empty booth of his restaurant before his employees came in. He opened the box and to see cookies, brownies and sorts. He bites into one. It was so average but tasted so good. Thick tears run down his face, splattering against the table. He's never been the one served food before. Since he was a child he always cooked his food and dinner. Unprovoked act of kindness was something that hit him in a sensitive spot.

🔪Yandere Chef kept working and till he heard you had came to visit. As much as he complains about you being in the public eye but you haven't done any acting since he opened his restaurant, I suppose Wade's plan sort of worked.

Wade walked through. He was going to ask you round his, he as many times before but this time it romantic. He wants you, He needs you to be his. He see's your gorgeous face but before he can talk to you, A waiter has got your attention to try and flirt with you. This angered him. You don't deserve some dirt like that, the world doesn't deserve you. Nobody deserves you.

🔪Yandere Chef had staff stay back to help him clean. Purposely giving the guy trying to flirt with you a hard job so he stays back longer. "Boss, I'm done. I'm going to clock out for the day,Okay?" He turned his back not being able to see Wade pick up a meat tenderizer and smash it on the back of his head.

The lifeless body lays on the white kitchen floor. Wade had already turned the cameras off. The cameras needed to be reset anyway so nobody knows who came in and never came out. The servers head was caved at the back, a slight dent filled with dark red blood before overflowing onto the floor. "Disgusting pig." He said while spitting on the corpse. Wade took out his own personal cooking utensils from a tool box. Taking out a meat cleaver he slides it along the body's corpse angling it away from the corpse and pushes down in a sliding motion skinning the flesh of the bone. It reminds Wade of how his father taught him to handle meat while preparing a dish.

You were in bed, it was quarter to midnight and you were snuggled in your bed thinking about your day. You hope Wade likes the food you made. He was very supportive! Acting was something you felt like you grew out of and he understood that. You've been trying to stay out of the public eye since but it's all you've ever known. Maybe you could ask Wade for a job? Is that scummy? I mean he was so caring! While you were debating the ethics of asking your friend for a job, you hear a knock on your door.

You were scared a little. Checking your doorbell camera, you see Wade waiting there. "What are you doing here?" You asked, rubbing your eyes. "Midnight snack?" He ruffles your hair. Usually you wouldn't eat so late at night but Wades such a good Chef. It was a meat you've never tried before goat, horses? It was strange.

Little did you know Yandere Chef had feed you the man who tried to flirt with you.You didn't know is this is a morbid start to a brutal end.

#yandere imagines #gn reader #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #male yandere

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naamahdarling · 18 hours ago

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Cranking your hog with children in the house also upsets these people, btw.

The idea of pleasure as addictive is so fucking toxic. Wanking isn't bad.

It can be a compulsive and destructive behavior, that isn't disputed, compulsive behaviors are disorders, and compulsive behaviors are certainly present in some but not all cases of various addictions, but there are major components of addiction (diminishing returns in the pleasure center of the brain -- the brain does not seem to exhibit this wrt masturbation -- physical dependence, risk to health and life) that are never present in these people. Treating it like an addiction does not work and in fact causes people harm. Calling it an addiction is inaccurate and irresponsible. It may seem like splitting a hair, but it isn't. It's very important.

Studies have shown a very common element in the distress associated with "sex/porn addiction" is religiosity and shame. Not just being someone who masturbates. It seems like the culture of shame and repression is the toxic factor here.

"Food noise" is...hmm. I have very low dopamine, and so I think about food A Whole Fucking Lot, or I did until I got my dose of ADHD meds raised and it stopped. Which was nice, I won't lie. So I've experienced what people would probably label as "food noise". But I'm skeptical of its validity as a problem on the scale people are now talking about it being, because even if we grant that thinking about food all the time to the point that it becomes genuinely upsetting is a thing, we have such a dysfunctional and unrealistic cultural relationship with food that I don't trust ANY mainstream discussion or medical discussion about how we eat not to be deeply, deeply unhealthy.

It's the same with sex negativity, which is having a revival even among left-leaning people. You cannot have a rational and healthy discussion about sex OR food in a social climate that deems sexuality as gross and inherently damaging and food as a vice and fatness as a massive character flaw. I'm absolutely not going to be able to meaningfully discuss "porn addiction" or "sex addiction" with people who have a really fucked-up relationship to the idea of other people's sexual habits. I also don't trust people whose knowledge of psychology, sexual psychology, and addiction comes primarily from the internet. I don't trust much of what psychology says about it, either! If you don't think people should get their sex ed from porn, you also should not think that people should get their information about sex and addiction from talk shows and wellness sites, social media, Facebook, Reddit, etc.. There is a large and growing body of evidence that calling this "addiction" is inaccurate and inappropriate and leads to crap outcomes in treatment, which people exhibiting compulsive behavior do need help with.

Fuck it. I don't trust ANY talk about things we culturally consider nasty, indulgent, immoral, immoderate, etc. People just can't fucking cope with the idea that human beings should be allowed to do pleasurable things that aren't causing them distress or negatively impacting anyone else. Someone being bothered by the idea of a coworker's UNCONFIRMED daily masturbation -- during what is likely the only breathing room he gets away from kids and an insufferable-sounding wife that judges him so hard she'll bring it up to strangers -- does not count as being negatively impacted.

I think people should be left the fuck alone and allowed to do what they want with their bodies.

This is not an addiction

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angelltheninth · 1 day ago

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Kissing to Believe

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, kissing, new relationship, didn't know they were dating, misunderstandings, suggestive, boner, grinding, bad at feelings

Word count: 0.9k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

Ao3

A/N: He needs therapy. Or someone who really loves him. That could work too. Both will help I think.

You and Bakugo have been... something since the start of the new school year. He had no problem pulling you in for a kiss in front of everyone and you had no problem reciprocating. And all this because he kissed you on impulse after the Dabi's attack. At the time he'd been pretty delirious and just happy to, well be alive. Since then he hasn't stopped.

It finally came to the point where, after he'd spontaneously kissed you in the hallway, his hands on your lower back, edging dangerously close to the hem of your skirt, "Hey Bakugo, what exactly are we?" You asked, a little bashful of all the eyes currently on you.

"Huh?" He tilted his head, his good mood quickly replaced by one of confusion and mild annoyance, "The hell to you mean?"

"I mean..." You sighed, not quite understanding what was it that confused him, "Are we dating? Friends? Are you just fooling around or-" The shove was abrupt, the tch audible and his face fully red as he shoved his hands in his pockets and began walking away.

"Don't fucking believe this shit. How the fuck-" You didn't hear the rest as he hurried to his dorm room. You were left in the middle of the hallway, in the sight of everyone, whispering about a lovers quarrel, how they knew that it would end like this, and something about a bet.

Lovers what now? There was a misunderstanding here on a lot of sides.

Quickly you followed after Bakugo, barging into his room and slamming the door closed just as hard. He didn't pay you any mind, laying on his bed with his back turned.

"Stop being a baby." You tried to pull him towards you only to be pushed away by him, "Bakugo! Just tell me what did I do all of a sudden?"

"Being stupid is what you did." What?

"You have a lot of nerve saying that when you're been playing with me for the past month. Now stop being stubborn and look at me." This time he let you spin him around and he used that momentum to push you onto the ground and pin you down.

"Fucking ridiculous." Bakugo growled as he loosened his tie and pushed your legs apart, the position making both of you blush but Bakugo was the faster one, surging forward to kiss you silent. It was so desperate and hungry, the way his lips pressed against yours, the way his tongue demanded entrance, the way his hands gripped your shoulders, the way his hips rocked against yours to keep you still. "Get it now?" Even if you wanted to reply you were too out of breath to do so, "What, did you think I kissed you all these times because I was doing it for the shits and giggles?"

It was your turn to be pissed. You yanked him down by his tie and into another hot kiss, "…Let’s be real, you did have a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public. Or your hands going down my body, you're lucky I didn't kick you in the-" His knee pressed between your legs hard, making your hips slide upwards, "You... you always do this! You kiss me, you tease me, you touch me, and then you never say anything about it! How the hell am I supposed to know what's going on in your head Bakugo? I don't have a mind-reading Quirk!"

"I shouldn't have to! You think I kiss just anyone? That- that was the first time I- damn it!" Bakugo sat back but still kept his body between your legs, his hand frustratingly raking through his spiky hair, "You know I'm not got with words and that mushy crap. So I thought my actions would be enough to show you. Everyone else seemed to have picked up on it."

"Everyone?" Thinking about it you did hear a lot of talk about you and Bakugo lately, and you did get a lot of questions about how things were going. You assumed this was because they were amused by him teasing you when actually, "We were dating?"

"I hoped we were." Oh. All those kisses, the little late night hang outs, the walks outside campus and the... heated training sessions.

"You should have just told me that you jackass!" You pulled him to the side and got on top of him, trying to ignore the hardness under you, "For your information I don't go around kissing just anyone either, I just thought you wanted to be more free. You'd be pretty popular with the ladies if you weren't so scary."

"Oy! I'm plenty popular!" That was a bold lie and blow to his ego, "And even if I wasn't I already got my eye on you so you better quit this pussyfooting around and tell me: do you want to be my girlfriend or not?!"

Finally a clear question!

"You love calling me an idiot but if anyone's the idiot here its you." Bakugo grit his teeth at you at being called an idiot but you knew how to wipe that snarl off his face, by pulling him into a kiss, the same way he did to you so many times before, just as passionate just as heated, just as rough. "Clear enough for you?"

Bakugo grinned, "Nah. You need to make it more clear for me." His hands settled on your hips, "Really clear." You yelped when you felt one hand sneaking under your skirt before you slapped it away, your face heating up which only made his grin wider.

He might be a hot head but he was your hot head now, and you would make sure everyone knew it from now on.

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